JINGLE ON MY SON!

JINGLE ON MY SON!
A doughty champion of his local culture. (Poet Tom Hubbard)

8.7.19

TUEBINGEN AGAIN











































I come back to you
when I am feeling hopeless,
when I am in despair of the heartless.
I trail my hefty books through Customs
to reach you,
to plunge into your depths,
to swim in the mystery of your streets,
the beauty of your trees,
the melancholy of your seminar rooms.

Yes, Tuebingen,
it’s me
looking for myself once more
in your troubled mirror.
So I dive
into Weinhaus Beck
and back and back and back
into the Boulanger.
So I stagger
out of love
into the arms
of the Neckarmueller
to feed the ducks
with scraps of my trembling poetry.

Your Hoelderlin Tower
always makes me feel sad.
My body droops like a weeping willow
as my mad muse floats up river
to liberate new dreams,
to greet fresh friends.

I sail in your skies
in a Lufthansa trance.

Let me sing
of all that’s good in Swabia
for you.
Let me wish your lovely children joy
and then let me break my heart again
when I have to leave you.




KEITH ARMSTRONG






TUEBINGEN WEBCAM


Look down from the Rathaus
and you will see me plodding
over cobbled tales.
I traipse though the clear night,
eyes stumbling across discarded dreams,
toes aching with raindrops.
My eyes sore with forgetting,
the old square undulates with the rhythm
of catcalls and pigeons
pecking at old folks’ bones.
Ancient crows swoop
on market remnants,
the scent of forgotten summers
lingering in the winter’s gutters.
I bowl
down the hill
lurching with words
that spill with slush
and the glitter of ice under the moon.
We are but Swabia’s leaves,
blowing about in a hushed city
that baffles our loves,
scattered
on the flow of the Neckar’s infernal gurgle.
We are grinning away
in our urge
for survival,
in our endurance of boredom,
the hint of romance.
Scan my breath
for more joyful moments,
pan across the skyline
to pick up the Lufthansa throb
in the beautiful clouds.
I will sing again in Tuebingen.
I will kick out the glass on Melancholy Street.
I want to hear Uhland breathe in the daft breeze,
see Hoelderlin brood on a raft.
This world is crazy
and my mind
rejoices in it.



KEITH ARMSTRONG



FOREVER (WELL, IT’S ANOTHER DAY!)

(for Carolyn & Christoph)


Forever
flooded in my heart,
I am bloodlogged
with the flow of you.
Tübingen,
you gush
with hard-earned smiles
for me;
you are the sum
of all those leaves
I’ve scraped together
to find a little happiness
in this gorgeous day.
It’s the chance meeting
of a fragile poet
and a fleeting Swabian muse;
it’s a beautiful cat
chasing a singing bird;
a flight of fancy,
a dash of hot wine
with warm friends,
whose tasteful photographs
and gleaming laughter
I will treasure
in my sparkling veins
forever.


 

KEITH ARMSTRONG

'Your performance at the city hall was soooooooooo good!'

Christoph thought it was excellent!' (Carolyn Murphey Melchers, Tuebingen)



'Wonderful as always! 
Thank you so much for visiting Tuebingen.' (Magdalena Ruoffner)





the jingling geordie

My photo
whitley bay, tyne and wear, United Kingdom
poet and raconteur