#322 of #365 A Prompt A Day For Bee ~ Words travel again


November 2016

I wrote a poem a day from June 2014 to May 2015 and as travel is a topic on Thursdays on this blog I wanted to repost this poem and dedication to one of my favourite poets. Enjoy:

April 2015

Today’s poem is a tribute to one of my favourite poets: Erich Fried. Born in Austria he had to flee the Nazi’s and came to Great Britain where he worked as a writer but also a Shakespeare translator.

He became famous for his political engagement especially against the Vietnam war. In Germany many did not realise that he had written beautiful love poems too.

The one I chose to work with is “Words“. I took only verbs, adverbs, adjectives and nouns of the poem and then created a new one.

These are the words I have used:

words lose syllables tiredness silly mistakes begin typewriter want fall asleep wake daily sadness happenings world things I prevent word starts groom quietly hums half thought starts brushing looks another momentarily choking something swallow looks around takes half thought hand says: Come tired words fly typos laugh themselves half whole thoughts London’s ghetto sea plains mountains across spot walk down steps garden morning pause pay attention look see rest hear flutter little cold perhaps still little misplaced truly happy you



Words travel again
Again words travel.
They fly quietly
While you are asleep.
Syllables of happenings
On plains, sea and mountains
Want to fall daily into sadness.
They don’t wake anymore
On typewriters. They
Begin maybe in London’s Ghetto
Just to hum in every spot in
This world.
A word momentarily
Might lose its mistakes but
Tiredness pays attention
To silly things that begin
To groom typos but
Prevent nothing.
Half thoughts and
Tired words walk down
Little misplaced steps
In our I’s.
They look around and brush
On something to choke on.
Then half thoughts start
To swallow and look for one another.
They start.
They take each others hand and look
Around in their little garden.
One says: “come” but the
Whole of them pause and
Laugh at themselves.
See across in the morning
To the spot where they rest.
Hear them flutter before
Perhaps they become still.
Will they ever be truly happy?

Leave a buzz for The Bee