When I became famous ...

It's to late, so it sounds more like a joke. There is always a price to pay ... I was getting warnings: a book about drunken and drugged Edith Piaf selling her voice on the streets of Paris. Her voice still sounds and they make films about her life. When I became famous ... I'll have to give up a family life and a privacy is hard to find. Being nobody I have friends I can trust - we are alike. Being famous: how do you know, who is your friend and who wants to be touched by celebrity? What is price to pay? It's to late anyway. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, December 2012 POW! assignment

When time stopped

I was in the middle of preparing salad for lunch, when electricity went off. Hard boiled eggs even didn't start to boil and aria of Figaro on the radio stopped abruptly. It's the end of January and the day is without sunshine. So when electricity went off all lights went off as well. I moved a cutting board on the table by the window and continued cutting vegetables. "In worse case we are not going to have the eggs for lunch. It is not a big deal." I heard Henry's footsteps coming down from his office and then walking to the basement like a firebug with a hurricane lamp in his hand. He came back and Figaro was still silent. Also all clocks stopped. They registered time, when electricity went off. After about two minutes everything went back to normal. We ate our lunch and Henry remarked: "I will have to correct all clocks in the house." It's great to have a handyman in the house.

Blue out of the sky

You brought me blue out of the sky. Do not love me much, just a little, so we can get by. Do not love me much, just a little, so we can get by. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Fall 2012

Whispers2

I am walking the streets of my town and hear my verses whispered into my ears. Am I imagining? A man in the garage will not give me a ride in his wheelbarrow. He didn't say I am to heavy. He said: "I am not so strong." I am walking the streets of John O'Hara's town. We never met. I read his thick book when I was seventeen in one small Czech town. I am shy. I meet strangers who smile and whisper my verses. I am dreaming. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Sharing

We share food what we get. From time to time somebody shows up at the door with homemade fudge, or a cake. Wonderful gift of sharing. The food cans never stay long on the table. You know somebody comes and take it. Somebody will be not hungry tonight. He will eat and think: Somebody was thinking about me. Of course, the food isn't the first quality, but it is food. He will not feel lonely tonight. The life is good, when he looks upon the stars and the city lights tonight. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010