20200616 – spelling mistakes included

Moonlight waves in the night’s breeze

A gentle touch igniting a burning desire

Moonlight shines on closes eyes

A moan announces my earth-shattering release

The dream has gone.

What’s new?

I like taking pictures. I don’t pretend that they are good, but I like them. They are often of every day things, just from a different angle.

I am thinking about adding photographs to my next book. The only thing keeping me from doing it is that the print will be more expensive. I can’t sell my books at a higher price, I think. I am a nobody, and readers don’t pay for no-name authors.

This is my IG account, take a look and let me know what you think.

How was your weekend?

I visited my father for the first time in over three months on Friday, had guests on Saturday, and it is Mother’s Day over here today.

Lots of new and good music found its way into my ears. That was nice too.



I have many (very) short stories on this blog that are rarely read. Some are worth your while. Others are repeat feelings. And of course, there are all the letters I wrote for that imaginary couple of twin souls in my head.

Now I am wondering:

Should I repost them?

Should I collect them and make into a collection of short stories?

Any and all advice is welcome.

Thank you


Tossing and turning between these empty sheets
They are still emanating our passionate heat
I can’t believe that you are gone
That I am not the one and that you moved on
I keep replaying our kisses in my mind
Why weren’t our stars aligned?


I could love you again and let you back in
I miss your soul’s imprint on my skin
Another sleepless night wasted on regret
Can’t we redo the way we met?


Consumed by the memories of our bodies ablaze
And I wish they would return, these carefree days
A raincloud darkens the sky in my head
Disabling the wings of freedom you helped spread


It’s four o’clock in the morning, and I am counting sheep
It’s been months since I was blissfully asleep
Now I am lying here, nightdreaming myself into your bed
Disappearing in our lies, panting. I am drenched in sweat.

Around the corner

I found you in the corner of my mind

Guiding me into the tunnel, and from there, into the light

I found you in the darkest memories I couldn’t find

Dragging me through the day and abandoning me at night

I found you as tattoos drawn on my soul

Completing my imperfections, filling holes and voids

How come we kept our love hidden in plain sight?

You sang too many love songs to know by heart

And I found you in my mind and my blood

It was a start, but one that we forgot

Kiss me gently until I almost regret

That I found you where you left me last night

Unfinished stories, unsaid words – I will not leave without a fight

I found you and keep you as a hostage in my chest

Twin soul, bearer of light, buried forever in the corner of my mind

Original draft of this poem, slightly altered for better flow and to be easier accessible


Our love is just not there

The clouds are pushed away

and just like that, our memories fade

Day after day – more lost

But your eyes they were touching my eyes

You became a ghost in my hair

I called your name in my latest nightmare

It stayed silent on my tongue

But I remember – when your eyes were touching mine.

Sunday Scribblings – revolt

Resisting the urge to be complacent and silent

Every person with a bit of compassion in their bones should

Vow to speak up for the

Oppressed. We need to be

Loud. To make them hear our voices,

To make them shake in their racist boots.


Revolt! Stand up.

End this madness.

Violence, though, violence is not the answer.

Only the peaceful protest will have the power for change.

Lower your guns and gather your thoughts

Too many precious lives have been lost.


Raise your fist and join the lines, because

Enough is enough.

Vacant minds need to be educated

On how to love every human being equally.

Listen to the painful lessons from the past. It is

Time to revolt.


By definition, to revolt is


My words are used, and they become meaningless in this world. No hurt can be eased. No wrong can be undone. Not by me. Powerless and doomed to watch from the sidelines. And I am in pain when I see the news. Angry too. But from my ivory tower country, I cannot do much. I can raise my voice, but no one will hear.

song for… now

Billie Myers – kiss the rain

The song appears on the album “Growing, Pains” (1997, Universal Records)

Why this song now?

It’s raining. For the first time in many weeks, it is raining. Of course I went outside. I stood with my arms wide open and felt every drop on my face and on my arms. I soaked it up and let a smile replace my frown. What I sight I must be for the neighbors, but I don’t care. This is me. The essence of me. Soaking up the rain. Kissing the rain. It makes me happy. Yes, it does.

I guess this is very weird for most people. But try it. Go outside and enjoy the rain. Enjoy how it feels on your bare skin. It’s magic. It really is. I know, kissing the rain, enjoying it so much that it makes me really happy and energizes me, that’s quite eccentric and not something people do. But, I do.


Sunday Scribblings – wrinkles

She wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror and looked at her tired face. Brown eyes, with a gleam hinting at her mischief. Distinctive nose, betraying her Greek ancestry. Grey hair stood oddly off her head, only a handful of them, but enough to be noticeable. They seemed to ask for attention. Wrinkles had formed around her eyes and mouth. Her plump lower lip pouted. Her youth was definitely in the past. She couldn’t deny it. She would never pass off as a young woman again. She would never have to show her ID to buy alcohol. Young people would call her “Miss” now. It was frustrating. She ran her hand across her face again and dragged her cheeks down, making silly faces at herself. Her reflection didn’t change, though. Her hair was still beginning to lose its natural brown, and her eyes still showed signs of age. She looked down at her damp naked body. There was no hair; she had suffered through a couple of procedures to make sure of that. But there were other things she saw: Wrinkles. Loose skin. Flab. It was useless. She put her hands on her protruding hips. She turned left to right, standing on tiptoes, looking at her beauty spots. How could she face a blind date looking like that? And even if she would meet him fully clothed, their texts had implied that there would be activities requiring less clothes. She was thirty-seven and ready to start a new chapter in her book of life. Wrinkled old face or not, she had to get ready. She chose skinny jeans and a black blouse. She liked to keep it simple. A little bit of makeup and her preferred jewelry topped off her look. Her hair was a hopeless cause, but she tied it in a loose bun. She wasn’t dressed up. This was her, all her.

She was ten minutes late when she entered the pub where they were supposed to meet. She recognised him right away. There was a smile on his face, and his greeting was but a croak. She extended her hand, and he leaned in for a hug. It was all very awkward. She looked at him; the first thing she noticed was wrinkles. Around his eyes and mouth. And just like that, she didn’t feel old and out of place anymore.