Heide kunz-traubert: books

Monday, July 13, 2009


Reading sample "Thoughts in the river":

ISBN No. 978-3-940640-13-0

Tank tops don’t need fuel
Floral white vests don’t smell
Frock coats cannot run
Fake fur doesn’t believe in culture
A little black dress doesn’t have to be a negro child
Bell bottoms don’t hand out
Low shoes are two whole
Shoehorns have no soup contact
Blue men are not always drunk.

I deny fear the right to live in my soul,
impose a ban on stopping in the mind.

The joy of life can move in in the long term,
including free parking in the zones mentioned.

Out of sight out of mind
Long time no see, today accidental eye contact.
Encounter almost a little embarrassing.
Long time no talked to each other,
now a lot of blah blah.
which is why the hug?
The sound quality of the words is poor
and speech suffers from helplessness.
What should you say about it??
The standard saying is enough "how are you"
(Basically only interested in the margins anyway)
It is best to quickly get out of the clasp,
where you almost threaten to suffocate,
but which seems to fit into the usual scheme of an unexpected reunion.
A friendly smile would have been enough.

See you soon …

You can find this book and other samples in the literature depot

Reading sample "Letters to Victoria":

ISBN # 978-3-940640-11-6 on the days,
where buckets, scrubbers, brooms and dustpan rule,
very few claim,
that they are cheerfully happy.

that are hit from the gut,
in no way reduce the body size.
What I personally regret.

Before you look over the dark side
complain one dreary day
you should make sure,
that all shutters are raised.

You can find this book and other samples in the literature depot

Reading sample "Sweet sins":

ISBN No. 3-924824-53-3
Restless night

With all the side effects of loneliness.
Nothing moves next to me,
only my breaths audible in unison with my heartbeat.

But the overdose of restlessness that is gradually coming out
in the black silence, my hand leads,
charged for touch,
the tiny surges of electricity, my skin vibrate,

Nevertheless, again and again sliding into nothing,
looking for your hand,
realizing that it is not the same.

I see them shining through the veil of dawn,
the colors the night for me paint.

You can stay, but leave out the light.
The beauty of my pictures unfolds in the candlelight.

Do not speak now because I can feel your words,
especially the tender ones.

And please, turn off the music because the sounds of the song,
you can feel that I will sing for you.

Are you interested in this book?
Send me an email, I will be happy to give you sources of supply: [email protected]

Reading sample "Tender encounters":

ISBN No. 3-924824-65-7
The small Sister of the spirit
is imagination,
which is often smiled at.

But it blooms in dazzling colors
and plant the flowers
in her big brother’s gray cells.

high spirits
The blade of grass between your lips trembles in the airflow of a cool breeze.
You’ve been chewing it for far too long.
You say you get an appetite for cotton candy when the clouds are thickening in the sky. Can’t you see how gray they are??
They will spill over you and it will show if the colors of your dreams are waterproof.
Don’t you want to go before they get lost?

What fascination comes from the little black feather beings,
when they land on the almost deserted swings of the apple trees?
They only hide their beaks before they pierce the fruits with predatory intent.

The type of bees that swarm around you with poisonous spines is dangerous,
be careful not to hit them, otherwise you will fall victim to their honeyed longing.

How can you believe that they are big colorful butterflies,
that fidget in the air when children fly kites!

The Singspiel on the stages of the summer gardens came to an end,
and the mist wove the last curtain.

When a cold morning peeled from the dawn,
the foolish clown’s tears were frozen to ice.

Are you interested in this book?
Send me an email, I will be happy to give you sources of supply: [email protected]

Reading sample "Only the geraniums see red":

ISBN No. 3-924824-97-5
When the night creeps into the bushes
relax the paths in the park.
The water lilies fall out on the ponds and the willows on the banks mourn deeper.

When the night creeps into the bushes,

butterflies begin the firefly dance and get enthusiastic about it.
A few hot oaths die behind magnolia trees,
who might be crying over a owl.

When the night creeps into the bushes,

the benches are left to themselves, with watery hearts,
pierced by arrows.
Time to cool down the scars of her tattooed wounds from the past.

When the night creeps into the bushes,

desolation creeps in.
Yesterday’s newspaper and the rest of dreams in my backpack,
filled in red wine bottles.
Then Tristesse opens her tents and shares the warmth of tired matchstick flames
with frozen feelings.
Until dawn,

when the night crawls out of the bushes.

Are you interested in this book?
Send me an email, I will be happy to give you sources of supply: [email protected]

Reading sample "Very close to life":

ISBN No. 3-924824-84-3
loss of time
I have time

Sometimes I have the time too

Today I became painfully aware of how much time I had


Searched and found
I have often searched for the right words.
It wasn’t until I learned to be silent,
I knew how to use the language.

Your face
Just dreamed of it,
draws pale mood pictures in my night landscape.

Becomes an obvious revelation
after countless stunted encounters
colorless days.

Are you interested in this book?
Send me an email, I will be happy to give you sources of supply: [email protected]

Reading sample "Jumped over the lips":

ISBN No. 3-934193-03-X
Just in case
I choose the methods to close my educational gaps
and beware of the sticky mass,
by trying,
not to go to her glue.

tell me where..
I am no longer impressed by the drama of dark red roses.
With their transience, hopes too often vanished.

Meanwhile, a handful of men faithfully dry next to forget-me-nots
on my windowsill.
There is something innocent about it, but above all it is permanent.

Sometimes I wish for,
i would be a cat.
At least it always falls
On the feet,
and not like me,
so often on the snout.

Are you interested in this book?
Send me an email, I will be happy to give you sources of supply: [email protected]

Reading sample "face time":

ISBN No. 3-934193-14-5
There was a mistake in the baskets,
that I got in my life,
Collecting fruits.
I only harvested fruit,
worm-eaten and rotten,
through a much cried maturation process.

There are shining examples,
they shine at some point
only by absence.

Gray dirty lady, dominant accent in the backyard environment.
Your sloppy existence makes you the target of my looks.
I can’t believe what you’re able to catch.
Treated derogatory and crammed to overflow,
if you wait for your emptying times, you belong to the throw-away society,
celebrate the festivals as they fall.

Your party guests are four-legged servants who are bustling around you,
eats out of your hand.

And sometimes you feel searching hands, generously fill plastic bags
after reaching into your special offers, for the poor recyclers
of your worthlessness.

Actually I don’t want to have anything to do with you and should be ashamed,
because I visit you so often to fill your throat!

Are you interested in this book?
Send me an email, I will be happy to give you sources of supply: [email protected]

Reading sample "Up close":

ISBN No. 3-934193-29-3
end of November
Accompany deep shadows a dying year
through the rest of his time.
Then places are free on the fog banks
for freezing souls who have fled
in front of Hitchcock`s black birds.

The ride through life is often like a rodeo.
who then despite turbulence
can hold firmly in the saddle.
Is not that the case,
you probably have too long,
ridden the gentle tour.

A summer love
sick in the fall,
will not be rare
buried in winter.

My little black dress
carried grief with me,
that I had sewn into the hem.
Now the time has come,
to cut the seam.

Are you interested in this book?
Send me an email, I will be happy to give you sources of supply: [email protected]

Reading sample "Modern romances":

ISBN No. 3-00-018286-1
(Prize winner poem 2008 of the library of German poems):
Show a smile face drawn poker face
Didn’t they throw off your freckles
in the frenzy of the dance of resurrection.
The much too big snout tells of experience
grants revelation.
You are the legitimate reissue with slight back curvature,
but finally freed from the legacy of a long-bled stone age.
The world had been silent for a long time.
The forgotten suitcase rumbles in the locker, now wants to reveal its secrets before it runs out of breath.
1 and 1 that turns 2 into a subway blues.

Underground people on track 3 choke on homeless people at the children’s song.
Rattling Münzgeschwader in the tin pot celebrates the comeback of the Dreigroschenoper.
In itself, breadless art also makes people lonely.

In Kreuzberg, the gift horse swallows his favor in the toothless mouth
and is not at all ashamed of his feeling, even though morality wants it that way.
He knows exactly: From now on, things go downhill.

But it can rain red roses now and then,
whenever the memory comes on

She danced
Through a long white summer,
took what and who she wanted,
in the end threw everything away.
She’ll keep dancing, sure,
but eventually only with her broom.

A strange smile
Flew towards me.
It was looking for a landing site in my eyes.
I didn’t catch it, the landing failed.


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Christina Cherry
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