Wolfgang Steinmann

Wolfgang Steinmann Poems

1. Nichts Ist Von Dauer 1/14/2016
2. Revolutionen 1/14/2016
3. Dichtung 1/15/2016
4. Januar Hüpft Herum 1/17/2016
5. Ich Habe Mein Leben 1/18/2016
6. Schneeflocken 2/1/2016
7. Der Junge Trägt Jetzt Die Farben 2/1/2016
8. Spiegel Im Februar 2/2/2016
9. Schnee 2/3/2016
10. Schnee-Fee 2/6/2016
11. Eletelephonie 2/6/2016
12. Ein Faun Sieht Zum Ersten Mal Schnee 2/6/2016
13. Erfüllung 2/8/2016
14. Was Arbeit Ist 2/8/2016
15. Sicherheit 2/9/2016
16. Lied 2/11/2016
17. Der Blinde Knabe 2/11/2016
18. In Meinen Armen 2/12/2016
19. Blauer Valentinstag 2/15/2016
20. Valentins Tag 2/18/2016
21. Valentin 2/18/2016
22. An Dorothy 2/19/2016
23. Geh, St. Valentin 2/19/2016
24. Wolken Und Wogen 2/20/2016
25. Ohne Zu Hinzusehen 2/21/2016
26. Leuchtturm Bei Long Point 2/21/2016
27. Ist's Möglich? 2/22/2016
28. Weil Ich Nicht Schlafen Kann 2/22/2016
29. An Den Winter 2/23/2016
30. Fegefeuer 2/27/2016
31. An Meinen Lieben, Liebenden Mann 2/27/2016
32. Erinnerungen An Einen Glückliche Tag Im Februar 2/27/2016
33. Dröhnt, Trommeln, Dröhnt! 3/1/2016
34. Krieg 3/5/2016
35. Die Verrückte Tante 3/13/2016
36. Gebet Im Frühling 3/13/2016
37. Das Also Heisst ‘am Leben Sein' 3/13/2016
38. Die Sonne Hat Den Himmel Gesprengt 3/19/2016
39. Nur Eines Zählt Das Herz 3/19/2016
40. Roter Mohn 3/19/2016

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Best Poem of Wolfgang Steinmann



They both had been quiet a while. And now
The room lay in darkness, heavy and gray.
The man looked at her and the wife heard him say:

We shall not become like each other or bow.
For everyone suffers his very own pains.
My grandparents there in these picture frames,
They sometimes give me a terrible start:
Could you only see the letters they wrote;
The words look alike, they equally float,
It is really quite hard
To tell the writers apart. -
… You know, it's not good to suffer together,
For the pain that is shared is hurting ...

Read the full of Marriage

The Women Of Winsperg

The first of the Hohenstaufen at Winsperg did he lay,
King Konrad with his army, he held the town at bay.
The foe, the Guelph, was beaten, the town not giving, yet,
The villagers they held it, not minding weapon's threat.

The hunger came, the hunger! That is a piercing thorn;
For mercy they did ask now, but they found only scorn.
'You've slain in days gone by, many of my band,
Though if the gates you open, you still will find your end.'

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