A Feeling That Can Not Be Described, Only Felt ~ Poem By Monique Lucy Weberink
Seldom I live in this imaginary world
Surrounded by ghostly energy, I can feel it
Nothing else is present in my dream today
All that is there is this huge dark space
I feel haunted now all the time
What scares me most is being alone here
All alone. Without any good soul to accompany me
Just the screams of demons and evil spirits
Joyous feeling, why did you leave me?
You deserted me and left me here all alone
Wandering around in a delirium that is not mine
It takes over my unconsciousness
Going around in circles until I lose direction
Now I can surrender, let myself fall into the deep
Nothing more of me is left other then a black hole
My spirit lost and my body absorbed due gravity
Knowing that I am going to die.
Monique Lucy Weberink
Painting is Angel in Chains by Odilon Redon
Paul Verlaine – What Is A Poem?
“A poem is really a kind of machine for producing the poetic state by means of words.”
― Paul Verlaine

Paul Verlaine II
Anders Zorn - 1895
The Song Of The Siren
“Stay away from the underground lake I implore,
The Siren will see you are heard of no more.”
― E.A. Bucchianeri, Phantom Phantasia: Poetry for the Phantom of the Opera Phan

The Siren
Edward Armitage - 1888
My Daily Walk Home ~ Poem By Monique Lucy Weberink
My daily walk home...
There is a river on my right
fast flowing deep and dark water
these leaves being dragged along
twirling, what a curious sight
High up a blackness of one cloud
when I am starting to talk to you
and even though you are not here
mist forms a cover like a shroud
A few strange birds glide in the sky
the variation of trees just in front
suddently a squirrel running across
and the grass covered by a grey dye
Now there it is again, this massive weight
pressing hard on both of my shoulders
I need to find a way to break free from this
free myself from carrying this freight
These thoughts of us are crossing my mind
just because and despite of what happened
they intertwine, merging into the distant
for what is next to happen is not aligned
Do you think it just happens like this
do you think it just falls out of the sky
if so I can't be bothered to pick it up
It's definately not something I shall miss
Walking, step by step, slow but steady
always avoiding the mud and the puddles
still going through the drissling rain
I am clearing my mind, am getting ready
To fight this poison without a remedy
like a powerful flame that burns me up
I must wake up out of this bad dream
to finally reenter the realm of reality
You are hardly worth my while
but the curious world around me
pulls me out to another place
its only for a short mile
A sound distracts me
pulls me back here
someone walking past
that is not all I see
This is the brand new me
exactly how it was dreamt
this is the end of the road
There exists no more we
I used to think I was strong
but now I know where I belong
...its just another daily walk home


Monique Lucy Weberink,  2014

James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834-1903)
Nocturne in blue and green
Alfred Tennyson ~ Memories
“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depths of some devine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.”
― Alfred Tennyson



Memories
John White Alexander - circa 1903
Sylvia Plath ~ How Important Am I ?
“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.”
Sylvia Plath
W.h. Auden ~ On Books
"Some books are undeservedly forgotten; none are undeservedly remembered."
W.H. Auden,
'Reading', 1963.
E.e. Cummings ~ You Are…
“Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”
― E.E. Cummings

Christian Rohlfs,
Dancing around the Ball of the Sun, 1916
Rainer Maria Rilke ~ Evening
Evening
Slowly the evening puts on the garments
held for it by a rim of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands divide from you,
one going heavenward, one that falls;
and leave you, to neither quite belonging,
not quite so dark as the house sunk in silence,
not quite so surely pledging the eternal
as that which grows star each night and climbs-
and leave you (inexpressibly to untangle)
your life afraid and huge and ripening,
so that it, now bound in and now embracing,
grows alternately stone in you and star.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~
Claude Monet - 1840-1926 - The sunken road in the cliff at Varangeville - 1882
Anna Akhmatova ~ In The Evening
IN THE EVENING  BY ANNA AKHMATOVA
The garden rang with music
Of inexpressible despair.
A dish of oysters spread on ice
Smelled like the ocean, fresh and sharp.
He told me: "I'm a faithful friend!"-
And lightly touched my dress.
How different from embraces
The touch of those two hands.
That's how one strokes a cat or bird
Or looks at slender lady riders...
Just laughter in his quiet eyes,
Beneath his light gold lashes.
And the despondent voices of the violins
Sing out beyond the hanging smoke:
"Give blessings to heaven above
At last you're alone with your beloved."
March 1913