Nikola
Short Poem Challenge
Write a short poem in any language you want. Yes, there is a catch. All of the following things have to appear in it:

<ul><li>a tree of some sort</li><li>a positive emotion</li><li>a negative emotion</li><li>an item of any size that can be found in the kitchen (an appliance, utensil etc.)</li><li>a first name that is common where the language you're using is spoken</li></ul>

If you spot any mistakes, feel free to provide the authors with corrections in a comment or in a PM. For poems written in a language other than English: If you add an English translation, more people might enjoy your poem.

Have fun!
May 23, 2020 12:25 PM
Comments · 48
7
I don't know how well the German version is written, but here it goes:


Johannes die Eiche sagte mir: „Komm her.“
Ich gehorchte, aber ich wusste nicht warum.
Ich tat einfach, was sie mir sagte.
Ich ging langsam. Mein Herz schlug schnell.
 
Als ich ankam, sah ich eine schreckliche Szene.
Feuer umkreiste den Baum.
Ich rannte und ich schnappte mir einen Eimer Wasser.
Immer wieder tat ich das.
 
Es war endlich vorbei.
Ich könnte mich entspannen.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
John the Oak Tree told me, "Come here."
I obeyed, but I knew not why.
I simply did what I was told.
I went slowly. My heart beat fast.

As I arrived, I saw a horrible scene.
Fire encircled the tree.
I ran and a snatched a bucket of water.
I did this over and over.

It was finally over.
I could relax.
May 25, 2020
6
Nikola,

How many more poems?

That's not an easy question to answer. Writing allows me freedom to do what I cannot physically. It is as much a part of me as my eyes and my limbs. It is an integral part of my soul. I cannot be separated from it.

If you create a new topic and a new set of rules, I will e drawn to it like a bear to honey. Dangle the carrot, and the rabbit will follow...
May 25, 2020
6
Nicola vuole dei versi e io scrivo
queste rime affettando le cipolle
sembra ch'io pianga, su quel taglier d'ulivo
e invece rido, sentendomi un po' folle.

Nikola wants some verses and I'm writing
these rhymes while chopping onions
it seems I'm crying, on that olive wood chopping board
instead I'm laughing, feeling a bit crazy
May 25, 2020
6
El corredor

Corre a la cocina.
Corta las verduras para el guiso
que alimentará a sus amigos con su cuchillo.

Corre al trabajo.
Intenta ayudar a los demás
a alcanzar sus objetivos.

Corre a los cerros.
Corre a través del monte,
hacia el viejo árbol Rimu,
ocho siglos de serenidad.

Llora, a veces de alegría.
Más a menudo porque
nunca se ha caído bien.
Corre para no pensar.

La gente piensa en él como
Pepe.



The runner

He runs into the kitchen.
He chops vegetables
for the stew which will feed
his friends with his knife.

He runs to work.
He tries to help others
to achieve their goals.

He runs to the hills.
He runs through the bush,
to the old Rimu tree,
eight centuries of serenity.

He cries, sometimes for joy.
More often because he never liked himself.
He runs so he doesn't think.

People think of him as
Pedro.


<em style="color: rgb(102, 185, 102);">Only one downvote so far? I'm losing my magic touch ;)</em>
May 23, 2020
6
Maples drop their little wings:
Memories of many things;
Pancakes cooking on a griddle,
Maple syrup in the middle.
Falling sadly to the ground
Seeds of summer, spinning round.





May 23, 2020
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