spokenword Archieven - Sara's Stories

Zeeland

Mijn bed is zacht
Dus ik wacht, geduldig zittend op de bedrand
In gedachten met mijn voeten in het strandzand
Van Domburg

Iemand zoals jij is raar
Want jij kijkt naar, de dingen die niet mooi zijn
Waarom hoor ik daarbij, op jouw ideeëneiland
Van Domburgs strandzand

Wij zullen gaten graven
En met maatstaven, kijken wie het beste is
De Zeeuwse lucht blaast fris door onze huid
Bij ons tweede thuis

Duw mij in het zand
Begraaf mijn linkerhand, mijn been totdat mijn kop
Het enige is wat nog enigszins rechtop, bovenkomt
Verslindende zandgrond

Het dilemma tussen kiezen
Of ik je hier wil verliezen of dan toch niet hier
Op schelpweg nummer 1, bewonersaantaal meer dan twee
Wegrennend naar mijn zee

Mijn bed is koud
Handen waarvan jij niet houdt, zoeken houvast
Hou me vast op de dijk van Domburg, op dat bankje
Ik bedank je

Ik bedank je
Voor zonsondergangen waarin we, een strandhuisje huurden
En stiekem gluurden, over het strandzand, vol scherpe schelpen
Help me

Hou mijn handje vast
Terwijl ik de leegheid aftast
En gretig zoek naar iets wat jij niet hebt gezien
En dus van mij is

Welk deel van mij
Heb jij nog niet gevoeld, met zachte lippen spreek je
Dat dit niet is wat je bedoelt, dit is geen liefde
Liefje

Je gooit verkeerde namen
En verzameld nog de moed het goed te praten
Omdat ik altijd zeg dat haatten een sterk woord is
En ik toch niet sterk ben?

Het strandzand brandt
Onder mijn voet belandt de een of ander schelp
De scherven snijden in mijn huid maar dit keer
Wil ik geen help

MET DIT GEDICHT ZAL IK DEELNEMEN AAN KUNSTBENDE YOUNG CREATORS FESTIVAL IN DE KROMHOUTHAL TE AMSTERDAM OP 26 JUNI 2022, OM LIMBURG TE REPRESENTEREN IN EEN WEDSTRIJD TUSSEN JONGE DICHTERS VAN ALLE PROVINCIES.

A Sinner’s Mind

To those I’ve wronged, I bow my head
I’ll cover your graves with flowers and life
I know you wanted me dead instead
My sins cut like a sharpened knife

I can’t forget the lives I stained
For they are gone and I grieve their loss
Fire turns treacherous if not trained
And thus I hang on Jerusalem’s cross

The faces of the men I send to their death
Haunt my nightmares once I close my eyes
The burning red flames of my last breath
An answer to their endless cries

And with that breath I free my soul
It flees my skin and in the sky it’ll dance
Enjoying life before the end of it all
Perhaps to be given a second chance

Sir Winston Churchill was the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1940 to 1945 and later from 1951 up till 1955. At this time he was a member of the Conservative Party.

He considered Gallipoli the greatest tragedy of his political career (which is what the poem describes). As Britain’s lord of admiralty (secretary of the navy), he made the fateful decision to attack Turkey on its Dardanelles coast, specifically at Gallipoli during the early days of the First World War. The failed campaign led to the humiliation of the British. Churchill was dismissed from his cabinet position, excluded from the War Council, and allowed no hand in the further conduct and administration of the war.

Kunstbende 2020

On the 18th of October I had the honour of participating in Kunstbende Limburg Voorronde. The video is my performance which won me first place. This means I have to perform in my capital, Amsterdam, on the 7th of November. I wanted to perform more like the sixteen-year-old I sometimes forget I am, instead of the Second World War persona I usually perform as. But I couldn’t read poems without including where it all started, could I now?

I Don’t Know if I’ll Ever be Enough

I apologise for all the tears
The sleepless nights and broken heart
The silence and the screaming
The six feet apart

I apologise for your self hatred
The sadness that I’ve brought you
The unspoken words and held back truth
Sorry for the hell we’ve been through

Sorry for the times I didn’t hold you
Or the days I forgot to show my love
Sorry for the good memories
Or more, the lack thereof

Sorry that I forgot to care
And sorry for the days I cared too much
Sorry that I can’t feel your hug
Or your sweet touch

I’m sorry that I’m not there right now
And words will have to do
But don’t question my feelings
And the love I have for you

Inspired by the song ultimately by khai dreams

Echt-Susteren

18 and 19 January 2020, while still living in the rush of being in the newspaper, I was hired to read my poems for the Echt-Susteren event. I was more than thrilled to do so and decided to show up in the right attire.

During the event I read a few of my poems, one before the mock battle and one before the amazing concert on Sunday evening. I met a lot of great people and I was very thrilled to have gotten this chance.

There aren’t many pictures from me, but I found one made by Patricia Geerling and one by a photographer for L1 (I assume Jean-Pierre Geusens). I want to thank the organization for the amazing weekend and everyone who showed up. Thanks again

In No Man’s Land SONG

Martin Krewinkel, a man in my re-enactment group and to be fair, a true sweetheart and a gem in every way, messaged me one day if it would be alright with me if he used one of my poems for a song.

Of course I said yes.

Time went by, and after a month or so, he messaged me again, now with the complete song of one of my poems. He loves music and loves writing and singing, yet all the same he loved my poetry and combined the two to something so sweet and heartwarming.

I listened the song for a good few days non-stop until everyone at home grew tired of me and I was forced to wear headphones, haha. None the less, it truly warms my heart and I personally really like the song, hope you all do too!

Credits go to Martin Krewinkel for the amazing song!

Here are the original poem:

There he lay,
In crimson bathing,
His lifeless eyes,
Stargazing
His useless body,
Laying still,
No more breaths,
For his lungs to fill
No more days,
Yet to come,
No more watching
The rising sun

There he sat,
With bloody hands,
Mourning,
For his fallen friends,
His lips shut,
No words to say,
No call to utter,
Or God to pray,
With anger filled,
He grabbed a gun,
And fired,
At that rising sun

And so,
Night took over day,
Yet close,
Death would always stay,
He sat silently,
In No Man’s Land,
With a message,
For Heaven to send,
Of grief, sadness,
And the beautiful dead,
A message which is nothing more,
Than sad

Der Regenbogen des Kriegs

Alles ist anders wie erst
Rot ist nicht nur einfach rot
Rot ist die Farbe der Menschen die ihren Streit verloren haben
Rot ist die Farbe der Kinder die nicht mehr nach Hause wiederkehren sollen
Rot ist die Farbe des Kriegs
Des Blut das ich nicht mehr von meiner Händen waschen kann
Rot wie die Sonne die mich jeden Tag weckt
Rot wie die Lippen der Frau die ich so vermisse
Rot, die Farbe des Kriegs, dem Zuhause das ich nicht mehr wieder erkenne
Rot ist meine Farbe, so wie Tausenden anderen Männer und Frauen, weil rot nicht nur einfach rot ist

A dead German soldier, killed during the German counter offensive in the Belgium-Luxembourg salient, is left behind on a street corner in Stavelot, Belgium, on January 2, 1945, as fighting moves on during the Battle of the Bulge.

To Be Loved

Do you know this feeling where you just want to be loved? You want to be recognized by someone and know that you are worth loving. It’s like the constant rush for appreciation, not so much love itself. You want to be held, kissed, you want to be important to someone.

And because you’re human, you return that appreciation. After one, maybe more, weeks, it just fades away into nothingness, until you are left with someone who doesn’t love you, but just wants to be loved.

Shame, that’s what washed over me when I realized this. I had used someone for the soul purpose of being told I was loved. I couldn’t see it then, for I was blinded by the idea I could fight everything, because someone thought I could.

The same person had used me too, the exact same reason in his head as it was in mine, so at the end, it didn’t truly feel like I alone was at fault. I wanted to be recognized and he wanted attention, it was a perfect match made in Hell, but it felt like Heaven to me.

Now I’ve realized we both didn’t do anything wrong. We were trying to get back up from our previous battle and just needed a helping hand, a smiling face to tell us we could do it. I was his, he was mine. And now we are ourselves again.