Autumnal Poetry

Ein digitales Herbstlandschaftsgemälde nach einem Wanderweg bei Lauchringen (Grafik: Martin Dühning)
Ein digitales Herbstlandschaftsgemälde nach einem Wanderweg bei Lauchringen (Grafik: Martin Dühning)

Once again risen from the dead, well, not quite yet, some words trickle down from the autumnal lyric tree – say it in English, please…

Old with worry

Old for worry, aged with concern,
I have little hope that things will get better:

I fought so many fights in my life
That I got tired from all these wacky games
That other people forced me to play with them
Just to trick me, one time after another.

I got tired, believe me, but they do not care;
Why should they stop when all things running
For them so well, time after time,
And the bill always goes to me?

If there is a God, he should take care of it.
At least, if he is a caretaker and not just an icon
He should take care of it,
At least, once.

* * *

Autumn Colours

In the meantime I can enjoy the autumn
In a lot of colours; well, it’s just ok,
I mean, in fact: It doesn’t seem just
As distressing to me as it did in my twenties…

But what remains is the knowledge
That under all the foolish colourfulness
Of insubstantial, empty rustling of leaves
The darkling beetle is already feasting.

But, what the hell! In these times of change,
Look: When these summers almost kill you
With their merciless heat waves,
Thanks to the hellish climate change,
You’d better be obliged
When a poor little rain still falls
And the fog covers a meaningless sun
That has nothing left to offer you
But devastation.

* * *

The Loss of Life

After another serious illness
I woke up and realized
that I was not quite dead yet.

But outside, the seasons had passed,
Spring has become summer, summer autumn:
My friends have gone and strangers
Are now walking the misty streets.

It has been kind of tragic
And it makes you angry,
But that doesn’t help:
Things stay the way they are.

And sometimes you really think:
You probably shouldn’t have got healthy
Again and again and again.

* * *

The Road not taken

Once I had a girlfriend who, at a fork in the road,
Wanted me to take a certain route.
It was somewhat surprising, since she herself stated
That she did not believe in destiny or fate.

Well, in retrospect it is not so sure anymore
If she wanted to or not, if she had intentions,
Or if she would like anything at all,
Because until the end she didn’t really tell me
What she expected from me.

On the other hand, she explained in detail
What she abhorred, what she feared, and what
She – supposedly – would never do.
She often contradicted herself, and at some point
I lost track of who felt what, how and when.

Maybe the road itself didn’t even exist and it was
Just a confused signpost that a mocking ghost
Had placed in the middle of the forest.

We have to assume that such lying spirits exist,
Otherwise we wouldn’t need to fear the world
As she did.

* * *

Two Thousand and Twenty

What has it brought us so far, the year 2020?
New trouble with troublesome neighbours,
Little meagre support from the few friends left,
A bunch of expenses and costs caused by other people.
Burning forests, new wars and much more misery…

But you can’t say that it was boring, this year, can you?
So much has changed in our lives because of the virus,
Life lies became obvious and some people were given
The chance to rethink. Everything. My goodness,
So little use was made of this opportunity!
Liars continue to rule the world and dealmakers…

Nevertheless it was a full year, a year
Full of unpredictable, ongoing events,
However, this year was not fulfilling,
It was downright disappointingly empty of soul.

At least in my dwindling circle of acquaintances
Only a few good people have died so far,
Some of them were really deep hearts,
But I had no contact with them anymore.
It is a bit of a pity, though,
And it may sound a bit selfish
To complain that I will now receive
Even fewer postcards, no more travel pictures
And no personal adressed letters anymore.

Because in these troubled times,
Despite all, what has happened,
People still don’t have time for you
To give you more than a few likes on social networks,
Which now are nothing more than soulless advertising bots.

Shame on us: Oh, what has become of us, what is to become!
We always have to be serious and political now, at any time,
Although we have nothing to say at all.
For 2021 I have also only little hope…
Even Farmville they will shut down in December…

* * *

Über Martin Dühning 1164 Artikel
Martin Dühning, geb. 1975, studierte Germanistik, kath. Theologie und Geschichte in Freiburg im Breisgau, arbeitet am Hochrhein-Gymnasium in Waldshut und ist Gründer, Herausgeber und Chefredakteur von Anastratin.de.

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