Thursday, October 4, 2012

Through the Bars of my Cage

Frequently Asked Love (The Cage)
Felicien Rops
by Ingrid Prohaska

Viewing the world through the bars of my cage
Starving, and longing for freedom in life
Paying attention that the bars don’t get denser
till the moment
I get rid of my costume and lay down my mask

Easily I slip through the bars in a harmony
My dreams like the sun are warming my soul
Lightly I dance through the fields of my wishes
to a place which I simply call paradise

Friends are waiting here for me
using the origin language
and all words are forgotten
to express how I feel

Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska


Monday, September 24, 2012

Empty Time

by Ingrid Prohaska

Another week
Old and New Year
Cover-Table Calendar for 1905
 Konstantin Somov
ran through my fingers

With strong wind
Shoulds and Musts
rolled over the weakened

Busy weeks let me feel
I haven’t lived my life
Servants count
my days, my hours
try to persuade me
you use your time

Too many impressions
no chance yet to assimilate
Too many impressions
ups and downs walk hand in hand
Too many impressions
neutralize each other

Nothing's left
except the feeling of emptiness

the emptiness of time

Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska


Friday, September 7, 2012

At the Station

by Ingrid Prohaska
The Station at Sevres, Alfred Sisley

For decades I spent my time

with waiting for this particular train.
Years passed with waiting
but my train didn’t arrive.

They had closed the railway line - years ago
not a single train rolled on the abandoned tracks.

Weeds, even young trees conquered back their land
grew over the slim but strong rails
broke through the asphalt of the platform.

Amidst this scene I sat on that wooden bench
on sunny and on rainy days
Braved bitter cold and scorching heat
Longed for a life

A wrapped gift beside me,
something I would have loved to show him
wrapped in a way of which I assumed
the packet would please him.

From time to time the rusted sign
“Welcome to Parenthood”
squeaked lonely with the wind.

I fed myself with sweet bites of hope
too less to live, too much to die.

But on that one day
those bites of hope tasted rancid
A bitter aftertaste let me know
that they had turned to illusion.

It was a sunny afternoon that May 17th,
when I realized that my train wouldn’t arrive anymore.
He wouldn’t come to pick me up,
to protect me and to bring me on my track of my life.
He wouldn’t come to give me love and security, not even support.
I would never hear - I’m proud of you.
Yes, I was sure
He wouldn’t come anymore.

I unwrapped the packet beside me,
and found a kind soul in it
like an abandoned child I held it close to my chest.

I stood up
and dropped the shrunken bag of self-deception
into the rusty trash beside the bench.

A sudden wind gust brought some voices close to me.
There is life outside the station.

I’m sorry that we couldn’t find each other.
I said
and left

Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska


Tuesday, July 3, 2012


by Ingrid Prohaska

It was pouring outside

You turned on the light
and I could see you

I heard the warmth in your voice
saying - Isn't that better?

Give me your hand, you said
and dance with me
this one single dance
to the melody of your life

Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska


Sunday, July 1, 2012

The Vehicle

by Ingrid Prohaska

So I stand here
abandoned and alone
outside of any civilization.

The sun burns through my cracked windscreen
draws strange pattern on my empty interior.
What kind of life is this? I wonder.

I was a reliable one for centuries
powerful yet economical in use.
I transported many goods
even when the weight was heavier
than I was built for.
They called me their good fellow.

Old-fashioned they called me one day
and not fast enough.
I was not useful anymore.

They brought me outside
and parked me somewhere in the nature.

Gangs found me on one of their rambles.
They took away what they thought
could be useful elsewhere
the front seats, the steering wheel,
even parts of my engine.

Weeks later they came back.
The girls used my mirrors to make them look better,
the boys hit my body with heavy tools.
They smashed my side windows
just for fun
and cut my backseat into pieces.

My skin turned pale with the sun of years,
my tires lost air
I sank to the ground.
Passersby threw waste in my inside
made jokes about my look.

One night some guys set me on fire
a one night wonder so it was said.
And I burnt out - completely.

Now I stand here
as a burnt out chassis
What kind of life is this? I wonder.
Just waiting
that the rain
corrodes me to dust.

Copyright © 2012 Ingrid Prohaska

Thursday, March 15, 2012

A Little Rhyme ...

by Ingrid Prohaska

I spent some time
in a little rhyme
it's not a secret
just written by Ingrid

about a flowing river
and a light shining silver
about a colorful meadow
and a being with shadow

about a day of living
between Christmas and Thanksgiving
about thoughts on a mind
a pair of eyes sometimes blind

about hundreds of gifts
and a life in shifts
about a breath after all
and the rediscovery of a goal

the cook is very wise my dear
and far beyond every fear
shadows are sometimes very near
but I refuse to disappear

want to be in my own light
need a lot of energy for this fight
I know there is a way for me
with my own tools I'll take it easily

Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska


Sunday, February 12, 2012


A reading in addition to a little piece of dark poetry I wrote almost two years ago. - I hope you'll enjoy it.

Thank you for listening!