Achim Wollscheid

Rookie (10/13/93 / Leipzig, Germany)

Achim Wollscheid Poems

1. Expose 10/12/2009
2. Before All Others 11/29/2009
3. Final Goodbyes 11/30/2009
4. Medicines 12/4/2009
5. Grieving Today 12/4/2009
6. Blue Sun 12/15/2009
7. A Beast Illusion 12/15/2009
8. Life's Objective 12/20/2009
9. Retrospect 12/20/2009
10. Uncommited 12/20/2009
11. Tell Me Everything 12/20/2009
12. My Heart's Resting Place 7/8/2009
13. Possibly-Maybe Land 7/12/2009
14. Schorf 10/12/2009
15. God Of Dawn 10/12/2009
16. Run, Run, Run 10/12/2009
17. Do Not Fight A Feeling 12/23/2009
18. Taste 12/29/2009
19. Web Of Lies 12/29/2009
20. You Were Once Sure 12/29/2009
21. How Did You Change? 1/12/2010
22. Paranoia 1/12/2010
23. Inner Beauty 1/14/2010
24. Woebegone 1/19/2010
25. Pieces Of People 2/1/2010
26. Mawkish Romantic 2/1/2010
27. I Know There's A Place For Bad Days 2/4/2010
28. We Cannot Crush Christ 2/4/2010
29. Embers (A Haiku) 2/14/2010
30. Neue Perspektive 2/14/2010
31. Heap Of Confusion 2/14/2010
32. Sweet Flower 2/19/2010
33. The Background 2/19/2010
34. Always Sleeping, Always Dead 2/27/2010
35. Empathy 3/2/2010
36. Alone 3/13/2010
37. Nothing Is Present 3/13/2010
38. The Event 3/26/2010
39. Happy As We Were 3/26/2010
40. Fools 6/22/2010
Best Poem of Achim Wollscheid

Every Dying Color Lays In The Street

Fall is damned!
Every leaf of every tree sheds
as the balding of a man's head.
The pigments are beautiful,
but they're trampled on the ground:
the oranges, yellows, reds and browns!
My eyes find the most horrendous thing;
children plummet into the heaps
that I submissively raked up yesterday.
Each day in Fall I wake from a torpid nature.
It pains my limping limbs;
the eyesore of many gardening tools.
Why can it not be the time of fresh new ways?
When the weather is warm and replenishing
like the admirable season, Spring.
Always, around this ...

Read the full of Every Dying Color Lays In The Street

Run, Run, Run

We’re at seams
Threads and ending things
We know it’s just the world
But we know its hurtful ways
We hold each other’s hands
And their faces grow distressed
They all scoff at us
Unmoved and merciless
We’re fond, you and I

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