Marie Loewe
Marie Loewe lebt und studiert in Heidelberg. In ihrer Schulzeit schrieb sie mit ihren Freundinnen Haikus im Biounterricht, heute experimentiert sie in Anflügen von Inspiration mit verschiedenen Gedichtformen.
Marie Loewe lives and studies in Heidelberg. During her school days, she wrote haikus with her friends in biology class; today, she experiments with different forms of poetry when inspiration strikes.
To the Friend I Am Saying Goodbye To
Never
will I tell my son
to man up
instead of hurting
to be tough
instead of feeling
never
to stop crying.
No, I will tell him
to be kind
and caring
to be true to himself
so one day
he might grow up to be
a good man
like you.
To the Friend I’m Watching Fall Apart
I am an ocean.
I am so wide,
my waves kiss the feet
of shrieking children
and crash the ragged cliffs
of northern shores.
I am deep,
I draw my strength from darkness,
a vast unknown
resting at the very heart of my being.
I am blue,
languid waves
rocking back and forth
drawn to the coast in eternal longing.
I am green,
still waters
growing life in the gentle folds of my indigo grounds.
I am restless grey tides
always running
always roaming
gone for days
but always
finding my way back home again.
I am thick, black currents
spiralling downwards at impossible speed
and I am whitewater surges
bursting the dams and dykes
built to rein me in.
I, too, am
red
and orange
and purple
liquid gold
a mirror shining forth the light
of this beautiful world.
I am an ocean.
I am powerful and mighty,
a thing of beauty.
I am not one colour
but many
and I am not afraid
to let them show.
To the Friend I Am Falling in Love With
A couple of days ago, a friend from school said
We have known each other for fifteen years,
Which gave me the chills.
Fifteen years.
A stretch of time so long
parents apply it to their marriages
or the family home
featuring a front yard and a guest room.
Thinking of you, I imagine
an old house made of stone
friends around a large wooden table
relishing your risotto.
Holidays in France
home-made bread and
Portuguese tea cups
dangling from the kitchen shelf.
Long weekday evenings
we spend in the living room
marking exams and slow Sunday
mornings when after an early run
I sit by the open back door
watching a squirrel racing up and down the birches
standing guard in our backyard
waiting for you to get up
so we can have breakfast together.
Fifteen years,
a stretch of time so long
parents apply it to their marriages
or the family home
featuring a front yard and a guest room.
Fifteen years,
a stretch of time
I would be glad
To spend with you.