Some call me Maria.
Don't call me Maria.
I am Mary.
Don't call me Mary,
call me Marie.
It is the same name
like Marietta, or Miriam.
Somebody wrote a book:
"Marietta in the night"
I remember a title,
but forgot,
what it was about.
They called me Marushka,
when I was young.
When I grew up
I became Marush.
For my Slovak pen pal
I was Marienka.
In German I am Mariechen.
In Russia Marusia,
or Masha for short.
In South Bohemia
I was called Maika,
the same like one bug,
I know how it looks like.
My fifth grade teacher
liked to call me Maruna.
For my seventh grade teacher
I was Mara.
I became Marianka in Prag.
My boss called me Marzenka,
when he brough homemade
venison goulash.
My hungarian friend
is Marika
and we write
our name the same.
I became Marzena,
when I wasn't nice.
I went by many names
and turn my head
to all of them.
Just don't call me Marzena.
Marzena is bad news,
when she comes home drunk.
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, June 2010
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
How I met my first Englishman with whom had a longer conversation
It was late Spring. We were picking ripe strawberries in the fields near Norwich in England. I decided I need a decent swim suit for my work and walked on the road to hitchhike to the nearest town, with a pocket Czech English dictionary in my hand.
Earlier in the year I was exposed to first sixteen English lessons. I have to admit I didn't absorb even those lessons well.
I walked on the road. I didn't know how far is the nearest town and what is its name. I was walking and an Englishman stopped in his lori. Somehow I was able to explain I need to go to the store. He asked me what I need to buy. With the help of the dictionary I was able to answer a question. He stopped in the front of Woolworth. I said "Thank you" and "Good bye". I purchased one piece, green swim suit. Somehow I remembered the road we came to the town, and was ready to hitchhike back. I met the same Englishman again. He tried a conversation, but, for my limited vocabulary, his attempt failed. He had a pig farm, because he oinked a lot. Except Czech pigs go chro, chro and not oink, oink. He dropped me back at the farm, where I lived and worked.
He showed up again at Saturday dance. We were officially introduced by one young man from Yugoslavia I took English classes with. We danced. The conversation in English language didn't develop and I was a such piece of wood it didn't occur to me we could flirt. I left the dance, met outside Janusz, who just purchase a new, powerful flashlight. For a while we were gazing at the stars and then I went to the bed. So I didn't befriended the Englishman and went back to my mama.
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011
Earlier in the year I was exposed to first sixteen English lessons. I have to admit I didn't absorb even those lessons well.
I walked on the road. I didn't know how far is the nearest town and what is its name. I was walking and an Englishman stopped in his lori. Somehow I was able to explain I need to go to the store. He asked me what I need to buy. With the help of the dictionary I was able to answer a question. He stopped in the front of Woolworth. I said "Thank you" and "Good bye". I purchased one piece, green swim suit. Somehow I remembered the road we came to the town, and was ready to hitchhike back. I met the same Englishman again. He tried a conversation, but, for my limited vocabulary, his attempt failed. He had a pig farm, because he oinked a lot. Except Czech pigs go chro, chro and not oink, oink. He dropped me back at the farm, where I lived and worked.
He showed up again at Saturday dance. We were officially introduced by one young man from Yugoslavia I took English classes with. We danced. The conversation in English language didn't develop and I was a such piece of wood it didn't occur to me we could flirt. I left the dance, met outside Janusz, who just purchase a new, powerful flashlight. For a while we were gazing at the stars and then I went to the bed. So I didn't befriended the Englishman and went back to my mama.
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, January 2011
If I were Cupid
If I were Cupid
I would work
in the bakery.
Working in the night
and going to the bed
early in the morning.
That night I must make
at least hundred hearts.
Which one to whom,
lets people sort it out.
If I were Cupid
I would work
in the green house
growing velvet roses
all of them in red color.
I would be out of business,
because all flowers
are shipped from far South.
If I were Cupid
I would move to South,
dance flamingo
and sing all year around.
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 2/11/2012
I would work
in the bakery.
Working in the night
and going to the bed
early in the morning.
That night I must make
at least hundred hearts.
Which one to whom,
lets people sort it out.
If I were Cupid
I would work
in the green house
growing velvet roses
all of them in red color.
I would be out of business,
because all flowers
are shipped from far South.
If I were Cupid
I would move to South,
dance flamingo
and sing all year around.
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 2/11/2012
Ethics
Who is a winner?
Who breaks ethics,
of course.
She doesn't follow
the rules.
Here, grab it, take it,
it is yours
for taking.
Victims taken
by surprise
quietly complain:
It is not fair.
How far you can
hear their voices?
Meak, quiet,
silent voices?
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 12/10/2011
Who breaks ethics,
of course.
She doesn't follow
the rules.
Here, grab it, take it,
it is yours
for taking.
Victims taken
by surprise
quietly complain:
It is not fair.
How far you can
hear their voices?
Meak, quiet,
silent voices?
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 12/10/2011
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Fulfilled dreams
I told you
all of my stories
and nothing is left.
To leave?
There is nowhere
to go.
It is quiet.
The dreams are
fulfilled.
There are no wishes
left.
It is time to live
and to be happy.
How?
Without dreams?!
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 1/27/2012
all of my stories
and nothing is left.
To leave?
There is nowhere
to go.
It is quiet.
The dreams are
fulfilled.
There are no wishes
left.
It is time to live
and to be happy.
How?
Without dreams?!
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 1/27/2012
Babes
Babes on caraway seed,
and I am innocent.
Babes for lunch,
babes are tempting
little rascal.
Babe on the lap,
babe for a dinner.
Babe is trying
her little claws.
Babe sinks her claws
and I am one
with no experience.
Babe isn't looking
for an infidelity.
Babe is preparing her nest.
Catching on fire
like a bale of straw,
you may have them all.
Don't worry,
you shall go
with the babe too.
The babe defends herself:
All men are free
for taking.
Copyright (c)Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 2011.
Rather bad translation from Czech
and I am innocent.
Babes for lunch,
babes are tempting
little rascal.
Babe on the lap,
babe for a dinner.
Babe is trying
her little claws.
Babe sinks her claws
and I am one
with no experience.
Babe isn't looking
for an infidelity.
Babe is preparing her nest.
Catching on fire
like a bale of straw,
you may have them all.
Don't worry,
you shall go
with the babe too.
The babe defends herself:
All men are free
for taking.
Copyright (c)Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 2011.
Rather bad translation from Czech
What are you going to do?
What are you going to do?
Sell the stars by bushels?
Sell the river to the fish?
What are going to do?
Sell the monkeys to the zoo?
Make the World
to be a better place?
Better for whom?
To ease a pain?
This is what
you can not do.
To make money,
because money talk?
To leave everything as is,
because the things
usually work out
themselves? Somehow.
What are you going to do?
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, Summer 2011
Sell the stars by bushels?
Sell the river to the fish?
What are going to do?
Sell the monkeys to the zoo?
Make the World
to be a better place?
Better for whom?
To ease a pain?
This is what
you can not do.
To make money,
because money talk?
To leave everything as is,
because the things
usually work out
themselves? Somehow.
What are you going to do?
Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, Summer 2011
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