Friday 5 February 2021

Three Poems by Poul Lynggaard Damgaard


The last human being

You are welcome to stay here
and you may like to say more.
There is no reason
to turn around
to mirror nothing.
It is not the landscape
of temperature differences
that keeps you inside.
The door closes by itself,

because someone is breathing

through the house.

The demonstration is a cockcrow

in an empty institution, but still

we sense the meeting.
The crowd of people we never saw as an opportunity

now walks quietly in empty streets.

Here there is nothing to give in to.

I think everyone has an idea,

that the hen farm is a competitive state,

when the fence is the first sensed.
Those grids the room leans up against.
Removed monstrosity, burned out engine,
turned off instruments and left banners.
Everything is visited by worms.
That is why the last human being we meet

in front of the city like it was a bush.

A scaffold of branches lifting a mask.


Scaffolding around the building   

hides the world where everyone moves.
The bassoon of the empty streets. 
The scaffolding is not gallows
for anything else than our dreams.
I close my eyes   

to avoid seeing the instrument.
A place out of itself.
Balconies emerge   

over time, where the birds are located   

in the same tree.
Broken branches in running peace, 
and no one knows what a disaster is.
The world is a window
away from the society
far away from a song.
Trees on balconies bloom towards a park.
I drew your words, and now you are drawing my earth.
Everyone is looking for a world as a direction in itself.


The distance of silence

I have no words for the streets
which from time to time
give a sound.

This period of time
as it were the most lonely of times.

This silence I have experienced before
and this is my everyday life now.

I have never greeted anyone,
when someone else runs through me.
I may listen, but in reality
I am not the one you speak to.
The city has lost its pulse,
and I wear it gently.
The leaning doorway in my hands.
A box full of life
where the children
hold on to close ties.

You place yourself in front of me
as a matter of course.


Poul Lynggaard Damgaard

Poul Lynggaard Damgaard is a Danish poet born 24th of December, 1977. He is living in Aarhus, Denmark. He is a member of Danish Authors’ Society and since 2012 he has been connected to the Danish Centre for Writers and Translators. His work appears in publications and anthologies world wide. He has participated in several International Poetry Festivals in Europe, and his poetry has been translated to many different languages.

Poetry Books

"Boks Sepia", 2013, "Disk Habitat", 2014, " Stedets omvendte beklædning", 2015,                "Figurativ uniform",2016, ”Vi bærer hinanden som frakker”,2019, “Rejsens farver”,2020.

International Poetry Festival

” Ditët e Naimit”, Edition XXI, 2017+2020, Tetovë, Macedonia.

”Orpheus”, International Festival of Poetry of Orpheus, Plovdiv, Bulgaria, Edition I, 2018

International Poetry Festival, 5th edition, 2019 in Rahovec, Kosovo.

a”, Scotlands International Poetry Festival, 2020. St. Andrews, Scotland

No comments:

Post a Comment

Nine Poems by Rustin Larson

  Chet Baker   Just as a junkie would fall from a second story hotel window   in Amsterdam, I once fell from a jungle gym and hi...