Discover all the poems of the exhibition 'Rodin, Meunier & Minne' here.
JUST WAIT
Author: Paul Bogaert - Poem for adults
How it all went.
and how it's going now.
Health and safety at work.
It's almost finished.
I dot the i’s and cross the t’s. Think like a ton of bricks.
1. Health. 1.1. Problem statement.
'There he is again'.
‘Stuck on his square meter'. 'For how long?'
'His posture'. 'His bitter epistles'.
'The so-called progressive insight'.
'Oh well'. 'So sad'.
I can hear you.
GRANDPA IS THINKING
Author: Peter Mangel Schots - Poem for young visitors
My grandpa is thinking, I can see it in his posture
His chin looks for support on a hand
I look at him, he’s getting older
His shoulders bending slightly toward the ground
what is he thinking of, what could be going on in his mind
could it be something from long ago or has he read
something in the newspaper
that made him think so deeply
that he can’t see or hear now
or is he pondering his dinner for tonight
perhaps he’ll let go of his thoughts later
and we could go for a bike ride or a walk in the forest
he’ll buy me ice cream, chocolate, or a pancake
my grandpa tends to think and sits so still
it seems he doesn’t want us to approach him
he’d close his eyes as if he’s dreaming
I think I know: he must be thinking of grandma
STONE FRUIT
Author: Herlinda Vekemans - Poem for adults
His life seemed nothing more
than a ripple
The arms weak and defeated
laid low within the lines of his life
His body wasted away
light in white
and thin in cloth
The pale flesh carved deeply
His life now seemed wholly
laid down and stowed away
in the half shell of the grave
IN A NUTSHELL
Author: Herlinda Vekemans - Poem for young visitors
Here he lies
dead before you
thin and limp as a rag
worn down and written off
He was no king
and no wizard
yet he did not stay
in the dark cave of the grave
he found the way to those who were looking for him
so here he lies, over 2000 years later
here and now once more for you
stone-dead, but then again
not quite yet
MADAM
Author: Paul Bogaert - Poem for young visitors
Madam, is that your son?
Madam?
He was strong and smart and always
well-tempered. We will examine how
this could have happened.
Madam, do you recognize anything? Is that his chin?
That knee perhaps? He was
beloved by all of us.
And now deceased, alas. Is it
your brother, miss? Your spouse, ma’am? Those are
his things, be sure to take
them home. We will examine how
this can be avoided from now on.
I promise you:
We will not leave it at this.
Ma’am?
She can’t believe it.
BROAD DAYLIGHT
Author: Paul Bogaert - Poem for adults
No one gave me hope. Yet I kept
hoping against hope.
I had so much false hope.
Until now. My dear.
In hideous light I must
face this. But even with the lights switched off
I cannot erase this image
of you. My dear.
This raft is floating nowhere. In this terrible
nearness I become and remain
your next of kin. My dear.
SURROUNDED
Author: Herlinda Vekemans - Poem for adults
The sky opened its arms
only for birds and clouds
There was no abyss
the soil did not give way
The river remained cold and mute
The sea wanted to see no one
There was no
Nothing was
It was the children
SHELTER
Author: Paul Bogaert - Poem for young visitors
Mom, I'm sure he'll come.
You can breathe more slowly now. He knows all the ways
Back home. He's never been
Scared of thunder.
Mom, 'poor souls', what does that mean?
And what does ‘blind alley’ mean?
Is it the people, mom, do you want
the people not to see us, see you cry?
Maybe he bumped into something dangerous.
A pit, I think. A setback. In the distance, I can hear him
hiding.
A HORSE LIKE ME
Author: Lieve Desmet – Poem for young visitors
Mom, I'm sure he'll come.
You can breathe more slowly now. He knows all the ways
Back home. He's never been
Scared of thunder.
Mom, 'poor souls', what does that mean?
And what does ‘blind alley’ mean?
Is it the people, mom, do you want
the people not to see us, see you cry?
Maybe he bumped into something dangerous.
A pit, I think. A setback. In the distance, I can hear him
hiding.
OLD MINING HORSE
Author: Lieve Desmet – Poem for adults
look at me standing cramped and crippled
stare at my stony eyes
enter my dejected head
caress me but make no mistake
the companions' ashes still burn in my fur
in my shoulder stripped bare you read all their names
I am not an urn but a talking grave
smoldering under my manes
Make no mistake I pull you caged through the shaft
shift the blackness before your eyes
you delve the ore of fathers, sons
it is I who guides you
BLESSING
Author: Lieve Desmet – Poem for adults
to pull your naked body from my sludge
from the knot I tied around your neck
I bear you and collapse
now that earth steals your warmth
I cannot keep us afloat
oh soft skin I fought
I want you bared
borrow my rib, acknowledge your gender
trade my tense thighs for a womb
hear my last words
you are born from me
hoor nog mijn laatste woord
je bent uit mij geboren
FATHER
Author: Lieve Desmet – Poem for young visitors
release my boyish body
the son shaved by your hand is no more
I sharpened the knife, disappeared
my voice unbroken
I had to crush your rules out of your reach
strike a match to light my path
with the sparks of my heart
father, keep a coat ready
soften your grip
and look – through the tears in my pants
you can see me standing on my own two feet
BALZAC
Author: Peter Mangel Schots - Poem for adults
You demanded a dead man.
I give you an eternal one.
You demanded a body in fashion.
I give you a temple collapsing
in sagging ground, dilating diaphragm,
throat filled with lumps. No tailor, doctor,
or lover sees bodies more naked than I.
You demanded a monstre sacré.
I give you a monk, a playboy, a gentleman
and a slave, a rancid and sweaty aesthete.
You demanded a writer.
I give you a fighter, a warrior,
a boxer in his cape on his way to the ring.
TRIPLETS
Author: Peter Mangel Schots - Poem for young visitors
We are the triplet sisters
Mary, May, and Mitch
almost no one can see
which sister is which
only mom and dad
can tell us apart
they have a little trick
that was confusing from the start
because all three of us wear
the same clothes with care
and we style our hair
like three of a pair
We wanted to look
like identical heads
so from the wardrobe we took
three big sheets for our beds
we crawled into the linen
and hid our faces too
they would never be able
to tell who’s who
but mom said
Mary on the left, and May on the right; such an easy riddle
and dad could add:
Mitch is standing in the middle
we asked how they
could do this so well
but they only laughed:
we will never tell.
LAMENTING WOMEN
Author: Peter Mangel Schots - Poem for adults
Around the grave we circle
the women who will take over from me.
They rise from milk and ash
and as they touch their breasts I hear
their nails break. No sound
is loud enough. Their lamentations
are measured and cruel. For appearances
Kleenex is produced,
according to the rules of grief
mascara is orchestrated.
Doing this makes them transparent:
to fret over my vacuum,
to fill what I want to avoid,
to shatter the words I cannot say
on their chests,
to choose the moment of silence
when only birds crow and ropes groan
between wood and mud.
They put
tiny puzzle pieces of earth
back into place.
BURGHES OF CALAIS
Author: Peter Mangel Schots - Poem for adults
Let us go. This morning
Will not know an evening. We have hung our surrender
around our necks, left our shoes
to the dogs. We are not brave,
not grand, not confident, not united,
chaotic like a flock of seagulls
over Calais.
Look at Eustache, the first to breathe fire,
how the gluttonous ground already tugs his wrists.
But he is going. Look at Jean, who carries the keys to the city
like his firstborn. Look at Andrieu, how sudden
despair bends him over like a poplar
in a gust of wind. And Jacques, the brave, who takes
the first steps and stops thinking.
We are going. The summer sun claims
our naked heads. Trumpets. A thousand citizens
hide in our coats. But we will suffice
like strange fruits hanging from the trees,
like seeds in the sand to feed the city once more
with their harvest. We suffice.