- Non-Erotic Poetry
- At Goethe's House
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During an intermission
changing trains
in Frankfurt-am-Main
I visit
the restaged home
where Goethe was born.
It's charming
with its many stories
chambers
vestibules
full of period furniture
books
assorted memories.
It's a museum
but there's a harmony
an equilibrium
an almost tender manner
so homely.
I climb the many stairs
I even saunter through the kitchen-
The attic
however
is off-limits.
I wonder if that's where they store
the dark secrets and fantasies
the official memory
proscribes.
In the gift shop I
ascetically
buy a mere
postcard
a portrait of the Poet
histrionically reclined
over an imaginary Italian landscape.
With time
every poet turns into his own spoils
but can you
ever again
hear the inaudible?
- COMMENTS
glheinzabout 3 years agooder gar im keller
liegen die dunklen geheimnisse
des schreibers
jung wild radikal
angepasster schleimer
doch auch verbrannt
und somit verbannt
hat er vieles
unkeusches
dieser elfte zwölfte finger
ModernPrometheanover 12 years agoI will definitely return to this poem to enjoy again !
duddle146about 17 years agoMucking around in a dead poets house ~ savoring the past.
LeBrozover 17 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 34,000 poems.
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LeBrozover 17 years agoHere's another of Lauren's from over 3 years ago. Savor it.
A tourist's stop at the poet's birtplace and as a remembrance, one of his books?
No, just a postcard. Seems so touristy and cheesy and so very real.
