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The drama

her appeals were in vain, he peed standing

and has laughed scornfully
what they put in a great rage. Finally

's got this far, that they
a hatchet in itself - it
only saw flash,
now it works with the seats.

Legally - how it happens to be hot - she sits
since last week also.

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annoy my poems

My poems

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The Grim Reaper

Before I bite into the grass

because I like to ask this and that

and if death times knocking at my

he is stopped up with questions.

"They want to please?"

coming first

"I'll just post"

the one you are looking

I'm sorry -

unfortunately comes with delay "

.

"Does it matter what?"

I would then ask

"if you geh'n first to the neighbors?

's I'll call him say

that you wanted to see him urgently. "

and would he asked again I

"Well you know's really not?"

while ago was her colleague as

The deletes' his life to light. "

And would he then completely red with rage

then I hope for his death.

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Spring Awakening

The window was open
spring came into the house
Mr. Meier from the fifth Stock
who was longing so much out.

The window was opened, the birds sang
ha'm
interested in Mr. Meier's no longer
because the degree is' jumped.

The window is closed,
is Mr. Meier awakened.
His nightmare is over
why Mr. Meier laughs.

The window is open.
Mr. Meier bends out of it.
But obviously much too far.
Now it really.

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breakfast episodes

morning so early when he made nearly twenty
eating carrots.

evening he sense how powerful
his bowel peristalsis.

But all this was' a pain
because he was sitting in the cinema

And while he's suddenly running
is nothing with NEM happy ending.

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fish poem

on the floor full of wax
slipped for Smoked Salmon-
and before I must confess:
was similar to the mackerel.
fell flat on its face even
of beluga caviar.
And finally -
this on the fly:
gossip! fell down the Flußforelle.

This was not without consequences.
The action came at the district court's.
The judge there, who had paws
and has banned the entry prompt.
Since then, it smells like freshly waxed
and only wax
and not like fish.

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lament of a postage stamp

My portrait is enchantingly beautiful
I have teeth, corners
but all the the überseh'n
me want to lick.

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I love the poem

I love the poem
am not an artist.
play with words, but like fine
and agrees to the match rhythm
then I am as happy as a child.
Now you know how we are men.
As you saw this, have probably laughed Remember
-I's are handmade.
do I like to be as now and then,
How it happens to be - the child in the male

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Carnival in Venice

Who are you, being on the column
young and crispy? Old owl?
enigmatic and unfathomable
Your silence is inexplicable.
Tell me, you're bound?
or free during those hours?
Yes, I know - this winter
I do not get behind it.
But before I continue to cry
until next year - here on the column.
Then I had my fate graciously.
One winter in Venice.

poem was written for a photo, which shows a woman in Venetian mask that hides behind the most part behind a pillar with the mysterious face on the side of the column by looking at the passers-by.

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Here I am - that's why you look

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love the moss

love in moss
moves moisture just
much less lousy
's is the 'nerve meadow.
But really nice
is 's only in bed.

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appetite

A man from Essen

was very greedy

he saw his beloved

and she has eaten.

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scrambled

A white and a brown egg
loved in the month of May

Then came the farmer's wife brought
she beat the eggs quickly in two

past it was with the love affair ...

The whole thing is called Panne
what there now in the pan.

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The chicken

save the chicken, some torture
It lays eggs only, the oval.
For if the eggs were square,
did this increase the laying pain.

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pancakes

There was one day a potato pancake
wanted to quickly search the sin.
Sin has not granted long
was with delight 'he consumed immediately.
And the moral is easy to measure:
Who sinned too much is eaten.

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flea poem

The Flea, knows every child
goes into the hair and that quickly.
But if, on the head, it itches,
then the child is not very delighted.

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roof damage

chimney on the roof -
wait, I'm coming after you.
'm not quite afraid of heights
but that is the same to me.
Just one small step -
already blue light goes on with me.
All ribs hurt me -
today was probably 'not on the heights.

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Cold feet

60 years I am old
The feet are getting cold.
Soon there are hands.
That is probably the end.

Have heating turned up.
But it was too late.
because the oil was not ordered.
It is easier to die without money.

But now have I love with me.
Because there is nothing so Schön'res.
slowly returns the blood.
feet warm again to happiness.

Rosy is now also the hands.

end.

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jelly baby poem No. 2

A jelly baby was in the corn
it only wanted to sunbathe.
The sun, which was much too hot
drum, it is quickly dispelled.
There are so many fairy tales,
of witches and also thieves.
not only of gummy bears.
Drum was written this.

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jelly baby poem

A jelly baby was in love,
no - is it something beautiful!
your flock, the little bear, which was blue -
they loved each other - sometimes tender, sometimes rough.
She was even yellow and says boldly: "The child by him - which is sometimes green"