Tag: powerful

When Heaven Touches Hell

The book is now finally published and purchasable. When Heaven Touches Hell is a book with 40 beautiful poems accompanied by stunning photographs! The in total 75 pages high quality paper comes at a low price (shipping not included). At only 14 years old, Sara Curfs wrote a book with the most impressing poetry in a language not even hers. We are excited to share with you and everyone around the world: When Heaven Touches Hell. (Send a Message through the website to purchase the book)

The book costs €9,95 (euro’s!!!) without shipping.
Costs of the book in The Netherlands are €14,- INCLUDING DELIVERY

While sending an email to purchase the book, please inform us of your residence so we can calculate extra costs including shipping/transport.

The book will be delivered to you in an extra protective envelope to make sure it doesn’t get to you in any damaged way.

AMZAF 2019

After participating in Kunstbende, I was asked to to part in AMZAF. This was of course an amazing opportunity, and thus I said yes. Even though it was quite a ride in the car, for we live in the south, I went none the less, which was a very good idea

A few days beforehand I had bought my original ANC Class A jacket, which means an officers jacket. Because this event was very near in the future, it seemed to me as a good idea to come in the entire uniform, this time more dapper then before. After having said so, I received the Pink Officers Skirt, to complete the uniform, together with the Garrison Cap in the same colour.

I had prepared a handful of poems, because I had been given three times five minutes separately. Two people didn’t make it, meaning there was another five minutes added to my collection. At the end I read four different times, each five minutes. I had brought seven poems with me, which turned out helpful for I could switch in between poems.

It was raining, which meant there were fewer people than expected. Because “Word Art” was placed in the horses’ stables, some of the ladies, the artists that is, and myself took it upon us to gather people outside who’d be willing to join us. This, luckily, succeeded, causing a very nice ambiance.

I stood there with a lot of love and respect, after I had secretly changed my clothing to my uniform, the dubbed Class A, I was given a headset, which needed some getting used to, papers in my hand, together with other writers like me. It was an amazing evening, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Poppy’s Day 2018

I’ve always been interested in World War One and World War Two, treating these topics with most utter respect. Back in November 2018 I wrote my first WWI related poem called “In No Man’s Land.” My school had asked a handful of the people in my class, including myself and many of my friends, to join the mass of Remembrance Day weeks before.

After being invited and telling my father, I wrote the poem on my way to the hairdresser, in the back of our car. When we got home, I read it to him. He immediately contacted the organizer of the event and send my poem to her. She asked if I wanted to read this after the mass, to the soldiers of Brunssum and other people invited.

Starstruck and over the moon, I said yes.

I read the poem, although I was very nervous. It touched many people, I soon realized, for many came to me and thanked me, or said I did a good job. That was my first time reading my poems to anyone else than my family.

That’s where it all started, my urge to bring my poems to others, read them to anyone who wanted to listen. It was a beautiful day, it really helped me grasp an idea of what I wanted to do with my poetry.

The video below is me reading the poem. In the description you will find the lyrics.

Why One Fights

In this war, everyone has a different reason to fight, a person or idea they make themselves believe is worth hall this, this suffering, this never-ending fighting and this ever-lasting battle between two sides, which both don’t really want to do this.

You need something, someone, to keep you going. You need to have this dream, this vision of perfection you want to achieve, in order for you to get up in the morning and continue the life that has been so rudely taken from you all those years ago.

Some fight for freedom, a noble cause of course, the thought that everyone will be able to walk on these streets, Jew or not, male or female, they don’t care. Everyone has basic rights they wish to achieve, because what kind of world are we living in, when little kids can’t go to school just because of the star they’re forced to wear? 

Some fight for loved ones. The man next to me? He’s writing a letter to his wife and children, every week. He’s fighting for them, he didn’t enlist for his family, but you can be damn sure they are always in his mind, gun or not, whether he is in a battle or not, it’ll always be his family.

The young kid, he’s fighting for honour and pride. Maybe not as noble as freedom, yet interesting to say the least. He feels like he owes his country this, a country which not too long ago, wasn’t even ours to begin with. He thinks this is what he should do. 

Others fight for shelter and food, the money they get. They have seen hard times, lived through them, and they saw the perfect opportunity to have shelter, rations and a pay check. You should’ve seen their faces when they were sent to other countries. 

Some fight because they expected it to be fun, to have all the ladies swirling around them, to have them look at him, while their panties drop and they fall on their knees before him. That didn’t go as planned either, as I bet you could’ve guessed already.

Me? Why I’m fighting? I’d love to say something heroic, something brave, something that would make you think that it was the best thing I ever did, enlist in the army. But to be fair, I did it because I saw everyone who already enlisted look so honourable and shiny in their green suits, I was jealous. That’s a reason too, envy.

I know it sounds stupid, that I envied them. But all the reason’s above, they didn’t apply to me. I didn’t feel the need to bring freedom, because I didn’t expect myself to be able to. I didn’t have anyone I loved, except my mother, honour and pride had left me a long time ago, the shelter and food, the money, they didn’t draw me in. I was used to living without much gold and glitter, I didn’t do it for the ladies. I did it because of the most stupid reason anyone’s ever heard.

If I look back at myself, I swear to God I would hit myself so hard I’d fall through the ground and straight into Hell, where I belong. I was foolish to think the war was just another stupid decision that might work in my favour. 


It didn’t.

The photograph shows the original Band of Brothers: Easy Company, US 101st Airborne Division. There have been multiple books written by the man that served in Easy Company and a short series (partly) directed by Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg

Peace?

He looked at what was left of the war
No Man’s Land silent at last
Feeling guilty of the clothes he wore
There was just one thing he asked

He asked God up in the sky
Just for five minutes or less,
“Protect me so I don’t die,
Still wearing my army dress.”

Some parties they agreed
Not to fire a single round
Another dead, there was no need
For even more bodies in the ground

Other soldiers they did not
Believe that war was gone
Their firearm still burning hot
To death they were drawn

Few didn’t keep in mind
On their muddy watch, still going
11 o’clock is to be defined
As peace for the unknowing

Seconds before the church bell yells
That peace has finally been ensured
A dozen stories no one will tell
Of wounds that will never be cured

Have happened

Written down on marble white
At 5 AM Germany will write
Peace, between the nations
The roaring twenties crumbling foundations

And 6 hours later
The man on the field are told
War’s very own violator
Has finally been controlled.

But in that time too many will fall
Because of a last whistle being blown
Over No Man’s Land they crawl
For the didn’t know

This poem was based on the short film called END OF WAR- the final minutes of WWI. The “peace” was signed at 5AM, but the soldier didn’t know until 11AM, or couldn’t act on it until that time at least.

A Conversation With Death

I always thought of death as the enemy, this dark figure that would take your hand and never let it go, as he walks with you to the gates of Hell. He’d offer you to go to Heaven, because he already knew that’s what you’d pick, as he waits for you to make your choice, he says:

“You’re free to choose, son, so what’s it going to be?”
“You can either chose heaven or chose heavenly.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you’d tell him, at last
“Can I have some time to think,or do you need my answer fast?”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he’d smirk “so, don’t feel stressed.”
“Just chose whether you want to be worshiped,” he whispered “or blessed.”

“And all the other boys? Can you tell me what they chose?”
“Apologies,” he admitted “but I fear nobody knows.”

“So this is it? I have to pick one of the two, without knowing which holds whom?”
“For one might be my resting place and one may be my doom.”

The devil thought silently, before he muttered under his breath,
Perhaps he shouldn’t live to see what comes right after death?

“Rather I could take you home,” he offered, “if that is what you desire?”
And so the soldier turned his back to that heavenly angels choir

Took the devils hand, and together they walked back
To where the devil had before so ruthlessly attacked.

“Thank you,” the soldier spoke “for yet another day.”
“Don’t mind it, it’s what you deserved,” death would say