From the category archives:


The storm

by Henk ter Heide on Wednesday January 14, 2009

in Poetry

I followed you
but you left me in the sky….
You left clouds rushing through my skin.
The clouds rampaged through my soul like gray bulls,
their hooves beat against the surface of my spirit.
Thunder erupted as my soul screamed your name
only to hear the echo drift from my tongue
like a tiny leaf falling from a branch.
I looked closer at the leaf
and noticed behind the leaf’s skin
there was a dancing flame,
there was lightning.

The leaf ignited
and erupted into a star.
The rays of light began to stretch through the night sky.
The rays of light began to grow stronger,
forming branches,
forming a giant white tree that expanded
from one point of the horizon to the next,
from the branches snow fell like droplets of fruit.
You stormed as the clouds covered your roots.
You stormed
and snow fell outside
my empty bedroom
in Los Angeles.

From Law & motion


Security poetry (Poem)

by Henk ter Heide on Saturday January 10, 2009

in Poetry

Norinic Klege
Misms, bionobte.
Poogisp percut stind ismst,
Bitur, magulthr flati.
Gedgerl (foitidi)
(Tieratt) recodm.



Lolita (Poem)

by Henk ter Heide on Tuesday January 6, 2009

in Poetry

Her name is Lolita.
She’s got Double D’s.
She’s bold and she’s beautiful;
She’s eager to please.

She’s got five hundred friends;
She’s charming and wise.
They flock to her photos;
She’s so easy on the eyes.

Oh so lovely, dark, mysterious.
But that’s not just a fake tan.
That’s one fake old photograph.
That’s one smart old man.

Poems copyright Heather Grace Stewart, 2009.



The Journey

by Henk ter Heide on Thursday January 1, 2009

in Poetry

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

By Mary Oliver

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