Dear Visitor!

Welcome to this poetry site.

On this site you can find a selection of the poems of Hans Gerlach, written under the pseudonym Hans van Egmond..

The poems here were originally written in Dutch under the title “Vloedlijnen”( Engl.: Tide lines ) referring to the lines of particles of stuff floating in the water, little animals, shells, salt, etc. that the deminishing high tide leaves on a sandy beach.

Here the sea is an allegory of the life of the author, that left marks in the form of poems: “Marks of kisses and tears”, as the author calls them in his first poem of the bundle.

The author has a special memories at Egmond aan Zee, a coast-place in the province Noord Holland of the Netherlands. He lived there, as he said, during “the luckiest and most careless years” of his life.

‘Flood lines’ was my first bundle of poetry containing 75 poems. The complete bundle, I am going to publish it later on. Hereunder a selection of the poems from the bundle is published, translated in english. The bundle was followed by “Grenzenloos” ( Without borders ), which file you can find here under.

Some of the poems are given here, others are published in the form of links of PDF files, that can be opened here and/or downloaded to your computer.

A hand full of Images

This is a collection of stunning poetry fragments in Dutch and English. Those are the lines that most impressed in the aselect chosen poems, from known and unknown poets, by their images, atmosphere or musical values ( NL+E )

A Hand full of Images ( PDF file )

Grenzenloos, Borderless

This was my second bundle of poetry in Dutch language. The bundle contains 65 poems, written in a time when writing poetry and dreaming was one of my survival strategies. When you want to read the whole bundle in Dutch, please click here:

Grenzenloos (PDF file )

To give you a small impression of ther bundle, I translated a few poems in English. hereunder.

Drowning crickets

Noiseless

she’s walking barefoot

in her darkred sarong.

Through the twilight

of the cooler evening

monotonous

gamelan sounds

are floating

under the whistling

palmtrees.

Through the flagrant

sirsak juice

I smell the warmth

of her smooth, brown skin.

Softly

she is humming

joyful childhood songs,

whispers

exciting secrets

in my ears.

Then our blood is waked

by the rustle

of cicaks

diligently and naked

our hasty heartbeats

drown the deafening crickets

while we hold our breath

to save the wonder.

Cosmic Gulfs

Octaves higher

than Chinese girlchoirs

spacey cosmic tunes

are reaching

feather tender

my hearing’s

borderlines.

Gulf after gulf

more

shining eyes

seething

sultry twincklings

in our pallid cooled blood.

Safely flowing

glassy fleeces

around the sunken skin

muting naves

are filled again.

Then we are divinely connected

with the silent stars and planets

our ancient gods

their men and ladies

are returning to their

former temple places.

Once so timid

stolen glances

are drawing

in an endless shutter time

lightning traces

fom eyes to eyes

from ears to ears

from skin to skin

in the nightly gloom.

In the altar

of Our Holy Lady

a young and bashful mother

is solemnly crowned as a pope.

Shadow

Sometimes

helped by strong emotions

the shadow defeats the self

and takes over

re-member-s

his hidden ghost

putting her open soul

in the farthest corner

filled with anxiety

crying from irrational fear

like a canope

that lost the heart.

Then only poison

can manage him

let him fly hesitating

leaving the old house

with broken windows

unclosed doors.

After months

the heart returns

still death

until the self

breaks the stones

and laughs

silently.

Discover me

This song is born

from the mirroring

of far blue mountains

in flooded sawa’s

from the smiles

in women’s eyes

from the rice and flowers

at every houses gate

from the colored prawa-sails

strikes before darkness

from all abundant bananastalks

countless cocospalms

and wildly rempant greens.

Their perfumes tell

about your nearness

birds are singing about your presence

crickets are scraping highly

your solemn welcome song.

I hear around

to every sound

I sniffle as a hound

in the round

of every shell

I raise my nose

to every kind

of unknown smell

hoping

that I’ll find thee

or that you

sooner or later

shall discover me.

Bodysigns

Dark bright eyes

black waving flagrant hair

in the languid smokey air

blossom colors

on their subtle moving clothes

silent feet

apparently

without any hasty aims

the smell of baked meat

in endless quiet evenings

with ancient, holy treats.

The world is young and new again

animals and things

have not their common names

sparrow and flying eagle are

“finger wave” and “armwide beast”

talkative with body signs

we read

what never ever

could be said

in our smiling eyes.

Game of Signs

What sort of thermal gloom

is penetrating in my chest

whatfore a singing voice

is lodging in my head?

You paint your rosy signals

with softed fingers on my pane

you whisper very loudly

through the seducing springtime birds.

Your hairy smell of just fallen rain

dispels the still remained gray

illuminates appearing greening

and cracks the last not melted ice.

The warmth of your foreign members

is planting roots into my flesh

the trembling of your silent life

is twinkling in my bloody dwell.

I am trying to escape you

mates, do string the ropes around my skin

but you slip into my dreaming

and draw me into your game of signs.

Ashes

Wingless

my laughing bird

is spilled from

her youthfully

joyful flight.

Soulless

she’s sitting now

in the fruitlessly teared sand

of her cracked glassy cage.

Silently in minor

she’s sobbing

over and over

the same

irrational

desperate

refrain.

In sack and ashes

I……..

am raoming in the city

and steal

the smallest smiles

on ladies’ cheeks

secretly

I…….

am drinking

the seducing gleams

from their moistened lips.

The vaguest sparks

from their shiny eyes

I…….

am catching

and plant them

cautiously

in my almost cooled hearth.

With far too bulging cheeks

I……..blow

and……blow

into the whirling

whitely ashes

longing

more and more

for a little

warming flame.