The last wish

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

The last wish

It was an old book, he had in his hands.
You could hear the leaves of autumn,
in the woods, hidden far away.

There was an old man in the woods,
somewhere far away,
whenever I look in his eyes,
blue silver light, a memory in my heart.

No one told me about the book,
until someone holds it All together,
one day.

They say, you can’t write
unless you might feel another day,
a week, one month and a year.
He said it by his eye.

In the last wish, one deep love
has rhymed my oldest poem,
if you would like, to hear the sound
in a book, he holds it All in his hands.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,
January 17, 2020

© 2020 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10122498-in-light-of-night-silver-diamonds-on-my-coat-shine
https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10120310-the-blue-silver-light-woke-up-the-day-starts-in

Photograph II : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

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The Tree in Life

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

The Tree in Life

In my youth, my younger years,
I always had the same shelter
behind a window.
As a child, I never knew, anything better.

When I learned, that happiness
is a symbol of silence, the music
started to dance, all day & night, 
long … longer than I could hang on,
back in my Wind!

Under the highest roof,
I woke up that day, and I realized,
the window had one dimension,
I could not see, at all.

I looked, I look over to see him,
under my Tree, but All I listen, to

is the sound of leaves, leaves of autumn.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,
January 12, 2020

© 2020 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10119193-in-the-glance-of-the-past-a-remembrance-of-memory

Photograph II : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

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One past in memory

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

One past in memory

In small letters, I touch pages of the Past.
In little numbers, I hear a walk in my Path.

The time passed by, I pronounced
the first letter until the last one,
to make sure the story has been known.

All in the eye, of a small body,
an open mind and deep spiritual soul,
I heard a new song in the silent dark woods,
without life, without light and a soft whisper
would sing, endlessly.

I touch a butterfly, I love the tiny specific
sensitivity in the light.

In the strict same book of memory,
one is a number after two numbers.
I cannot remember, who has given me
the spirit to rhyme.

I can be given, a soft spark behind the eyes,
and in my ears I always look for the special,
strong music, in my Night.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,
January 11, 2020

© 2020 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10118236-the-whitest-pavilion-ticks-the-oldest-clock-by-time-itself

Photograph II : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

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The fairytale castle

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

The fairytale castle

In a far away Castle, upon a Roof,
you had a story, it would not end or start.

Let me tell you, a story.

Dr. Frankenstein never had clouds in his mind,
or worms, food stamps and meatballs, over there.
He was acting, strange, stranger than strange can be.

Mr. Einstein, almost the same name,
walks different, right and left, and back.
He was too late for the Barber; that’s obvious.

The fairytale Lady, has endless curls in hair,
so beautiful, you almost love to touch.
And then, we have, next to all pavements,
a kind of Tackle, continually between my legs,
I can’t help.

And after that, in the fishes of all Ocean,
I hear a sound over and over again,
in a book on the Table.
There is a mirror in it, you see, easily.

Behind a dimension of the mirror in the book,
a depth was seen, in the Desk.
I see, the dot-dot-dot of her Ink, 
it is dry by now and all that is left, is a pencil.

Very, very simple.
But, can you imagine, from 14:00 till 2:00 AM,
what does it matter, if the Clock strikes 3, 
after 15:00 PM, the birds returned, … ,
the last day in December, until January 2020!

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,
January 11, 2020

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10094261-braindead-is-a-term-to-say-you-are-lucky-not
https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10094255-when-you-start-all-over-the-next-year-the-past

© 2020 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9098979-there-was-one-thing-i-never-understood

Photograph II : Rooi Pannen, Tilburg, the Netherlands, January 2014

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Across all silver Air

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

Across all silver Air

In that days, those days to be remembered,
longer than always, someone took one decision
to make it All, last.

I was looking at a Bridge, no one could cross,
not I, not me, though I was.

The oldest English is not correct,
that ways of all bridge in One.

I saw it all reflected in two eyes
without a guidance, simple, and honest.

They say, the Russians knew how to protect
the wind, nor the old memories in a book.

You see, I am, what you ought to saw,
whenever the country fell in pieces in one mind.

Those memories will not last, sure longer
but one still looks, in a sky …

Across all silver Air!

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,
Fryslân Bobbe!
De Kast – Eltse Grins Foarby

January 11, 2020

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10093990-the-ordinary-portuguese-folks-know-how-to-crack-an-oyster

© 2020 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10091451-ebenezer-scrooge-was-written-by-charles-dickens-and-not-because

Photograph II : Rooi Pannen, Tilburg, the Netherlands, January 2014

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In a small Vestibule

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

In a small Vestibule

In a distance, a far distance,
I watch the Clock change, 11 to twelve.
In my hands, a feelings rests, through
a simple daylight.

Younger, as I was, in those days,
I have seen, clothes and coats,
falling down in all skies!

I played, no cards of chest,
I laid no laughter of a Game,
the 17th and 18th Century
gave you the fool in all Times.

In twelve cards, you see,
the Joker, the 10 commanders of rabbits
with long white teeth, and mushrooms
in the woods haven’t grown, green or grey.

If you can’t write, or read, 
you have not understood,
the level of my houses,
the hearts in the winds of Air.

Do not mind, I ask you a question,
to be in Time; it asks, nothing more,
than being charmed by silence in a dining room.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,
January 10, 2020

© 2020 Petra Hermans

Photograph II : Rooi Pannen, Tilburg, the Netherlands, January 2014

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The whitest Pavilion

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Photograph I : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

The whitest Pavilion

High in the sky, emotional intelligence
has not been acknowledged.
I saw it All, coming down, in those days.
I write, I can write without a teacher,
numbers of letters, in and out my lines.
I will not mention, your style.

In my hands, the left of all rights,
lives the eye of a child.
She does not write, she does not think,
it is a child without a mind.

The white Pavilion has a guidance,
I cannot listen, to, in a way.
It is a temperature, across all 5 winds,
left, right and behind.

In all small worlds, the alphabet
is not mine, exactly, by an optical sphere.
The glasses have a special dimension,
I do not need.

When you look, a little closer,
the smallest child in our world
has a name.
It won’t be shared, that easily.

In all dimensions, in the silence of all skies,
it is good, it’s nice to come Home.
The pair of glasses is next to my bed,
not in the office.

It is, how I look at the end of the white waters,
I see them all, coming in, and coming out.
While, in the meanwhile, the optical sphere
has been silenced in complete harmony.

Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Europe, the Netherlands, Tilburg,
January 9, 2020

© 2020 Petra Hermans

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10112934-in-the-hands-of-a-child-a-small-eye-is

Photograph II : Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans

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