A German Poem

I speak German as a second language. The following poem was composed in German. I will give a brief summary of the poem afterward.

Ein kleiner Augenblick

Wenn man sich auf den Boden legt
    und schaut die Sterne an,
Fuehlt man doch eine Verkleinerung
    meint, man hat wenig getan.

    In dieser grossen, alten Welt
       steht jeder ziemlich klein
    und zu oft werden Menschen meinen
       Sie stehen doch allein.

Ein Tropf von Wasser sieht so aus
    als ob er nichts tun kann.
Der Tropf wird aber immer wieder
    zur Erde fallen, und was wird getan?

    Die Berge werden zur Erde fallen,
       Die steine werden Sand.
    Tropfen brechen sie alle nieder
       und veraendern das ganze Land.

Gott wird uns immer wieder sehen
    und versteht was wir alle tun,
hat immer Geduld, immer Hoffnung,
    und weiss, dass wir ingendwann bluehen.

    Er sieht in uns einen kleinen Tropf
       und weiss was wird getan.
    Die Steine, die in unserem Pfad liegen
       zerbrechen werden, und wir gehen voran.

Quick translation:

1st stanza -- When someone lays down and looks at the stars, they feel small, and think they really haven't accomplished much.

2nd stanza -- In this great old world, everyone seems small, and sometimes they think they stand alone.

3rd stanza -- A drop of water looks like it can't accomplish anything. However, the drop falls over and over again to the earth, and what happens then?

4th stanza -- The mountains fall down, the rocks become sand. Drops break them all down, and the whole landscape is altered.

5th stanza -- God looks at us again and again, and he understands what we do; he always has patience, always hope, and knows that at some time we will bloom.

6th stanza -- He sees in us a tiny drop, and knows what will happen. The stones that lay in our path will be broken up, and we will keep going.

With Only One at the Roots

A tree once grew behind our fence,
      it wasn't a very large one.
It's branches within were not very dense
      But of growing it wasn't quite done.

      You see, it was a nuisance to us,
           we didn't much care for its life.
      As it grew, we would put up quite a fuss
           'cause it gave us nothing but strife.

Against our fence its limbs would constantly push,
      eventually the fence it would break.
The loppers we would take out to cut that bush
      and the branches to the trash we would take

      Yet the plant, it would seem, would always grow back.
           It was reluctant to die.
      Even if branches it usually lacked
           all its roots under the dirt did lie.

We consistently were found attacking the top
      but never once did hurt the tree.
Its growth underground we never did stop,
      and soon our mistake we would see.

      As the roots all throughout the ground did grow
           the fence's foundation got weak.
      And even though the post's rotting was slow
           our fence's life the tree did seek.

So one night when a strong wind did blow
      the fence did give up its fight.
Over to the ground it did loudly go,
      it was a saddening sight.

      See, the roots had pushed clear right through the base
           of the fence we were trying to save.
      Although we had cleared branches from the fence's face
           the large roots no consideration we gave.

If just one person would have spent the time
      to cut the roots instead of top,
our fence that was on the ground would've been fine,
      the damage could have been stopped.

      See, without one attacking the base of the tree
           the problem you cannot solve.
      You make strike at all the symptoms you see
           but the source you will not have resolved.

Yet with only one striking down at the source
      the solution quite soon can be found.
You will be saved from a lot of remorse,
      Your fence will stay strong in the ground.

Wave

A Rise, a fall.
A churn of bubbles.
A pulse driven by wind.
A constant plague to shore.
A reminder of natural boundaries.
A pattern of monotonous repetition.
Unnoticed for hundreds of miles.
Influenced by heavenly bodies.
Ever withdrawing, returning.
Erasing the days events.
Wiping the sand clean.
Rising, Falling
Wave

Willow

Wee babe
   Insulated from the world,
     Loving and
       Living for attention,
         Only a year old,
           Watching her parents always.

New Beginnings

An Outlet Opens

Compositions of My Mind

Poetic Writings

This is a Haiku.