Diana van den Berg Poems

No matter how deep the salted wound,
mostly I can paint my heart naked
in its blood-colours for you,
but not for others,
...

On a roll
tapping the keys
and shaping a creation
until half past three this morning
...

Amidst cacophonous supermarket chatter,
velvet notes hummed softly
by a musing cashier
melted the chocolate of my thoughts
...

I am in love with words –
passionately,
tenderly,
intimately.
...

Nights linger longer
wide-skyed, slow-eyed,
shadows dancing
to the butterfly beat
...

One would think
that I should
be used to this
by now...
...

I woke
with a single tear
trickling full down
each cheek.
...

Brimful of sigh-wonder,
eyes stroke the birth-colours of the morning,
exploding the sparkle in the shimmer-windows
into the music of bubbling laughter, laughter, laughter,
...

There is a great convention
here today.
It’s a big one
and of great significance.
...

Sometimes,
what seemed
impossible
to change...
...