Achim Wollscheid Poems
Comments about 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 ...
My Heart's Resting Place
i found my heart resting
in another's heavy hands
it was kept always gently
so as not to easily break
i was feeling excitement
that it had all gone away
the injury had dissappeared
as an inhabitant
in a remote place