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Best Poems Written by Martin Lochner

Below are the all-time best Martin Lochner poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Tree

Poverty made me once climb a tree
sitting high in its breathing crown
I became wealthy with the swallows
the eternity of swirling torpedo skies
swallowed me in its massive silence
only the wind whispered to me softly
telling me with the wishes of the sunshine
that god loves me

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Damn This Poetry

Last night I started smoking again
I chose the corner in my yard
where I felt the safest
Under the flood light I could see
everything and the glaring made me invisible
Somebody was running a bath
children were crying over the street
and my neighbor beat his wife again
The coal burned in saffron red
each puff confirmed my breath
and the death of an approaching moment
My wife was calling for me and I did not want to respond
you see she was worried about the 14 years
I was going to squander on the box
The light fused, the children stopped crying
Bob Seger sounded up in a bathroom
The beating next door was resolved
with screams of love making
"There you are," my wife said
and I thought to myself
"damn this poetry"

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Interrupted

Should I kill myself, 
or have a cup of coffee? 
-Albert Camus- 


Being dead is blunt, 
numbing and offensive. 
Yet it is life and not death 
that grips you 
so hard that pain 
is a plea for urgent departure 

The impromptu of suicide 
is interrupted 
by an intelligent question 

If a tree falls in a forest 
and no one is around to hear it, 
does it make a sound?" 

The Stoic moment 
of self destruction 
is momentarily lost 

The question deserves 
an answer.

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I Am After All Human

I shave my own hair.
I cut it and remember
My own private holocaust.

Those things the imagination plays with.
Little toys of horror, 
lingering in that skull I clean.

The blade runs close to the flesh 
and control of it is mercy.

Anna had a beating heart, 
going for a cyanide shower.

Mine is built like a furnace with bricks. 
Cold hard brick that can withstand 
the heat of hell. 

Poetry affords me my temporal descent 
into tenderness.

Ah,feelings,vulnerability,flesh, 
blood dripping from my scalp.

I am crying tonight over a Rilke poem. 
My wife also cries with me.
I am after all human.

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Long Winter Grass

The academy of long winter grass,
an education in the backyard.
I always thought I was better
than the sparrows,
thought nothing
of that black cat
looking for his lucky break
on our porch,
the neighbors’ bastard dog
at the fence playing puppy.
One day our cousins visited us,
all dressed up in percale linen
and sailor suits,
little wealthy angels
gleaming in the sun.
“ Careful for the grass. It is wet,”
I said to them.
My uncle ordered fish and chips.
The cousins fed
the old changer cat
some of their fish,
the dog got some chips
and the sparrows the last crumbs
of Portuguese buns.
How long I lived on liverwurst
and happy bread,
how these stray animals
shared in a take away luxury.
I was no different from them.
I have been instructed on poverty.

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The Miscarriage

It would have been appropriate to tell
The good news to a peacock
But I told the turkey instead
"I am getting a little brother"
The turtle doves seemed glad for me
Cooing like turtles I thought at the time
The cat seemed disinterested
Purring solitary in the windowsill
The dog suddenly looked at me
Pushing the ball to my feet
“Jumping steroids,” I thought, looking at the Jack
My friend came over and I told him
"Mother is bringing home our baby”
Belinda now present seemed glad for me
She brought a blanket for him
"I needled it with my own hands," she bragged
Cooing like the doves I knew she was a sweet girl
Turtle face and wise my friend warned me
"She is out to get you, she only wants to get cute with you
Little babies you see?”
"Jealously makes you ugly," I screamed at him
And chased him out of the yard
That afternoon mother returned home without a baby
She cried like a peacock and I inquired back like a turkey
The doves got so distraught by the news
That they pushed their harvest of life out of the nest
The cat smiled and the dog fell asleep on the carpet
My friend wanted to collect me
Shooting birds but I said, "not now buddy"
Belinda looked at me and she was so cute with an idea I entertained
"Let us make a baby for Mother "

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Light a Fire and Burn

You find me so easy these days,
Leaving the extreme burden 
of being a good wife all the time,
You find me in the corner of the garden,
Sharing a cup of coffee 
and looking at our child losing herself,
in her imaginary kingdom of lawn,
You bridge the gap and lay next to me on the sunbed,
Simple touching and the heat of the sun 
discourage further duties,
I love you,
Let us wait together for the twilight,
Let us then go in together,light a fire and burn.

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Love Devours Me

Love devours me. 
My wife knows. 
'He suffers beautifully' she says 
This is maybe why she stays.

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Submitting Poetry

Pride never kept me off my knees
It was mostly about the injustice
of unrequited love
We are the smoke of unheard prayers
Children sending telegrams
over the black oceans of death
Children running to the post office
to ask for miracles...
Pride never kept me off my knees
My existence is highly improbable
I am waiting with sweaty palms
for the ink that will set me free

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Landscape For the Little Ones

Those mental landscapes, rocky deserts 
with long winding salt paths of tears, suffering

give an absurd direction, and always end 
into the many roaring tides of red and tan dunes

I am a confessional poet who understands well
the forty days of glory and the forty days of hell

Many wild horses run free inside me 
Their maniac depressive mood is always masculine and cruel

I let them trample over me, they crush my jittery self
It is a natural consequence of who God wants me to be. 

The hurting always leads me to a place that is beautiful.
It allows me to find Jesus meditating about the new earth

And in these devastating places, poets become
the voice of every little one suffering