#ProvinzPoetry

[provinzpoet]

To Be A Man

Boys don’t cry, they show no fear, emotions hidden deep. Then tell me, O society: If this is sown, then what’s to reap?

If tears are truly cleansing, Embalming to the soul, Then why deny this boy the balm And chain him to a role?

-

“Are you a Girl?”, I still recall the question He did ask. For crying was a girly thing - Man ought to wear a mask.

Just 12 years old - Yeah, thanks a lot. Great Job on shaping me. Took way too long to see the truth, until I could break free.

Can you imagine what it took? How long that held me back?

I had to learn to be a Man, In a world that’s taught "to be a Man, Is to keep yourself in check."

-

Society is wrong, my dear, Believe me, if you would.

I’ve been there, done that, made mistakes, But now - I’m doing good.

So if I may, I'd like this chance, to tell you what I’ve learned. I hope this finds you still in time, before that bridge is burned:

To wear emotions on your sleeve is strength - no cross to bear. To those to whom you’ll matter most, it shows them that you care.

So Cry for movies, Cry for poems, Cry for loved ones, Cry for songs.

Just trust me, I was your age too, To be a Man is to be

Just you.

[provinzpoet]

They say love isn’t grandeur, No 'big bang' here and there.

It’s daily, conscious effort, It’s showing that you care.

I used to hold that closer, still, Way closer to my heart.

In time I got complacent, though, That’s when we fell apart.

I know love isn’t grandeur, It’s effort, day by day.

In soft, in whispered 'I love you's, In actions that I take.

O, never take for granted, The love that you receive,

Now I implore: Appreciate, Before you're left to grieve.

As strong as true love may be, Not cracked by whip nor stone,

Complacency’s a poison, see, That in time takes its toll.

I used to tell you ‘I love you’, Near ev’ry single night;

My actions used to show quite more, My love in all its might.

For, see, love isn’t grandeur, It’s small acts day by day.

A rhythm of affection, A melody of care.

So do not take for granted, The love one shows to you.

Be mindful, conscious of their love, And show you love them, too.

I want a man who say i love you every night and proves it every day.

[provinzpoet]

Poison Wine

Intoxicated by your scent, Your eyes lock onto me. I wouldn’t - couldn’t - look away, Though had to, to break free. Your lips are poison, yet I drink, So fill my glass again, For I am weak, so very weak, So weak, I can’t abstain. This self-destructive way of mine, Will be the end of me, I will not - cannot - turn away, Though have to, to break free. So pour your poison wine again, Let no drop go to waste. I’ll quench my thirst like every night, I’m savoring the taste. Your love will be the death of me, This fact I know for sure. If death means dying in your arms, Then please, my love, do pour.

[provinzpoet]

The Staircase

I walked on down those narrow steps, they just don't seem to end.

And from the deep, it calls to me, The voice of my best friend.

"Oh come on down, you'll love the view, the iridescent glow".

I ask myself - how can that be? Don't get caught in it, Poe.

Her voice, it sounds convincing, yet she's been gone for years.

And yet, I am but human, want to believe my ears.

She calls again, and off I went, It's been an hour now.

She speaks of iridescent lights, on my eerie descent.

✍ NOMADIC WORD OF THE DAY

Iridescent (Adjective)

"Showing luminous colors that seem to change when seen from different angles."

Use today’s word in a sentence, a short scene, or even a mini dialogue! What if your character was iridescent?

[provinzpoet]

A Conversation with Myself

Hey you, it’s me, we are the same, Just time and space apart.

Where are you now, and when are you? What burdens on your heart?

I used to wish, a chance like this, Would come to me one day

‘Cause trust me, after all this time, There’s lots I’d like to say.

-

Where are you now, and when are you? What version of myself?

The soft, the scared, the hurt the sad? How I wish I could help.

The road ahead, it’s mighty long, And winding all the while.

But trust me, look at me and see, You WILL be doing fine.

For after every mountain, a valley hidden lies. Of lush and luscious meadows, a sign of better times.

I’m thankful for the strength in you, for getting through each day. I still remember vividly, how hard it was to stay.

Of waking up for school each day, with no one at your side, Returning to a broken home, whose pain we had to hide.

-

Where are you now, and when are you? Are you safe, where you’re at?

And is our brother still with you, Does he still have that cat?

But I digress, I’m trailing off, Don’t mean to take much time.

To thank you is what I’m here for And offer you this sign.

So rest assured and look at me, The valley is to come.

Of luscious love and steadfast friends, Vocation, trust and no loose ends.

No matter where, on mountains side, You are right now and in what stride,

I’m proud of ev’ry step you took And those steps yet left to be took

Because, I know, and you will, too I won’t be here if it weren’t for you.

[provinzpoet]

Brick by brick you built this wall, Immeasurably high. You raised the drawbridge to make sure That no one got inside.

I’ve known you since we both were kids, When life was simpler still. To see you hurt hurts me as well, I want to help you, still.

You’ve told me once, some time ago, The drawbridge's rusted shut. It won't come down, it will not budge, You can’t get it unstuck.

But I have also told you once, No - many times before. I’m always lock-step at your side, To me you’re not a chore.

I’ll cross the moat and scale the wall, I’ll rappel down inside. In search for you turn ev’ry stone, I’m always at your side.

Just say the word, and I’ll be there, Your demons I shall slay. You are to me what matters most, For you, I’ll find a way.

[provinzpoet]

My Greatest Critic

You didn’t do enough. You barely even tried. Insufferably selfish. Unjustified pride. Your words cut deep, said to cause pain, You still found reasons to complain. You paid no heed to those around, Saw not how mom in worries drowned.

For in your world there was just you, And in just your head — just were you. The others wrong, but you were right. You knew just how the world turned, right? The righteous king atop his throne, He knows it all — let it be known! But your peers didn’t seem to see, The genius that lied in thee. Pretentious, proud, and cruel to boot, You’ve rendered your whole message moot.

With time, though, true wisdom arrived, Your past would cut you like a knife. With ev’ry jab and selfish deed, The knife would twist, cause you to bleed. The words you said so easily, Would haunt you now, and frequently.

Like when your mother said to thee: “One day you’ll be the death of me”

I’m glad it hurts you to think back, I’m glad you finally see. But there’s no worth in senseless hurt, So let me set you free.

I hold you to this standard, ‘cause I know you in and out. And doing better, day by day, is what you’re all about.

But there’s no worth in senseless hurt, So please, put down the whip. Don’t flagellate yourself for your transgressions as a kid.

It’s good to be reflected; Reflect and do be good. By steady effort, day by day, And not by hook nor crook.

You’re doing quite a lot now, You always try your best. Reflected, just and selfless, So walk with a wide chest.

I hold you to this standard, ‘cause none else ever will. They see you as you are right now,

I see the young me, still.

[provinzpoet]

Once, We Were Friends

I've heard you're getting married, a child's, too, on its way.

Each time I check your socials, a soft smile on my face.

"time flies", I say, as I think back: The nights we've talked away. Imagining the future - say, 10 years from today. "Would we be happy? Settled down? Would all our dreams come true?"

"Whatever comes, we'll still be friends!" you said as if you knew.

Oh, Time does fly - a decade now. A little more, in fact. "Are we still friends?" - I cannot tell, we both went separate ways.

Should I just be "the past" to you, I swear that I'll be fine, for people change and friendships fade, that's just the flow of time.

We barely talk, I'm 'busy' now - Last text? One year ago. But if I don't put effort in, why should you call me now?

That is my greatest problem, with friendships day by day, I barely get in contact, yet expect my friends to stay.

I've made this bed, now here I lie, there's no one else to blame. 'Cause if I were to text you now, would you even know my name?

I've heard you've gotten married, the nursery's complete. You just posted the crib, with some toys and a bib that's embroidered by hand with-

.... my name

[provinzpoet]

Last Times

Your parents still remember The first steps that you walked.

They memorized the time and day, And first word that you talked.

And your first kiss, if I may ask, Do you recall it, still?

On your first date, if you think back Which one picked up the bill?

The thing with our ‘First Times’: We always recognize, “Hey this is new for me to do,” And here the essence lies.

Our ‘Last Times’ in stark contrast, We rarely know ahead.

Like when I used to kiss you last, When we last shared a bed.

Appreciate the time you have, And people in your life.

Because you never know just when A ‘Last Time’ will arrive.

[provinzpoet]

Mutterliebe - A mother's love

Mother's Day is coming up in May! I set out to craft a poem for the occasion in my native language — German. Written from the deepest place of love, for my mom as a Mother's Day gift. Typewritten & framed - Though that version is for her eyes only. I've included both a literal translation and a poetic adaptation to english below the cut. Because to me, the German language is beautiful and some words carry a very specific gravitas that gets lost in translation, when trying to stay within meter and rhyme. With deep reverence and appreciation for all mothers around the world: This place would be a lot darker without you. - Poe

Sie leben hier, im Erdenreich, doch sind viel eher den Engeln gleich. Und Gott: In Güte unbeschränkt, hat Er euch Mütter uns geschenkt. Und wie Er gab, so sprach Er klar: "Nichts sonst kommt meiner Liebe nah." Denn Mutterliebe, das weiß man, ist nichts, was man verdienen kann.

So war ich nicht einmal geboren, als Du mir schon hattest geschworen: "Ich halt dich fest, und sicher auch", da war ich noch in deinem Bauch.

Du nahmst mich sicher bei der Hand, durch Dich erst fand ich festen Stand. Was immer lag in Deiner Macht, an Dich hast Du zuletzt gedacht.

Ja, selbst in Zeiten voller Leid, warst stets für uns zum Kampf bereit. Denn Schwester, Bruder, und auch ich, wir wär'n heut nicht hier - ohne Dich.

Denn Mutterliebe, das weiß man, ist nichts, was man erlöschen kann. Ein Privileg, durch Mutters Hand, ein altes, untrennbares Band.

Und bin ich einmal alt und grau, am Ende meiner Zeit.

Erzähl' ich noch von dieser Frau, die, deren Liebe bleibt.

Literal Translation:

They live here, in the earthly realm, but they are much more like angels. And God — in boundless kindness — has gifted you mothers to us.

And as He gave, He clearly said: “Nothing else comes close to My love.” For motherly love — as one knows — is not something one can earn.

I hadn’t even been born yet, when you had already sworn to me: “I’ll hold you fast, and safe as well,” back then, I was still inside your womb.

You safely held me by the hand, through you alone I found steady footing. Whatever was in your power — you always placed your own needs last.

Yes, even in times full of sorrow, you always stood ready to fight for us. For sister, brother, and me as well — we would not be here, if not for you.

For motherly love — as one knows — is not something that can be extinguished. A privilege, by mother’s hand, an ancient, inseparable ribbon. (as in: physically impossible to be separated)

And when one day I’m old and gray, at the end of my time —

I will still tell of that woman — the one whose love remains (as in: is still there and will always be).

Poetic Adaptation:

Although they walk this earthly plane, they're more like angels, all but same. With heart of love, God made the call and gifted mothers to us all.

And as he gave, the Lord declares: "Nothing else to my love compares." A mother's love, as it is known, is nothing you can buy or own.

As such, I wasn't even born, when you had sworn one fateful morn: "I'll shelter you from harm and doom," as I was still inside your womb.

You held my hand through ev'ry storm, through only you I found my form. Whatever life would throw at us, You put us first, and your needs last.

And even in life's darkest night, for us you'd always hold a light. Me and my siblings know it's true: we won't be here if it weren't for you.

A mother's love, as it is known, is what endures both whip and stone. A gift received, by Mother's hand, an ancient line in perfect sand.

So when in time I'm old and gray, and gone are most my days.

I'll still tell stories of my mom, the woman whose love stays.

🌷 Mother’s Day Offering 🌷

Would you like to gift this poem to your mother—or in her memory? Copy it. Print it. Handwrite it. Typewrite it. Adapt it. Change it. Make it your own. Or, here's my offer: I’ll typewrite a personalized version, on soft cotton paper, and send it anywhere in the world. You can choose the fifth stanza depending on your family story: - “Me and my siblings know it’s true” - “Me and my brother(s) know it’s true” - “Me and my sister(s) know it’s true” - “And now, today, I know it’s true” (In this case, the poem will be adapted from "us" to "me", where necessary) I don’t charge for the piece itself — only the shipping. Because this kind of love? It was meant to be shared. If this speaks to you, you are very welcome to reach out! Just make sure, if you feel it, to let your mom know you love her.

[provinzpoet]

The Duality of Fire

When fire burns, you often see Destruction in its wake.

A tree line gone, a house destroyed, It asks not, merely takes.

A force so unrelenting, Not tamable by man.

A harbinger of ash and doom, Save yourself if you can!

Yet when I say This fire burns Inside my heart For you,

It seeks not ruin, won’t destroy, It merely burns For you.

This fire’s born from love alone, Its tinder care, not wood.

To warm you is its only goal, So let me, if you would.

[provinzpoet]

I still think back to you and me,

So tender were the days. Though fool was I, too blind to see In my enamored daze, that Love requires maintenance, Love requires care.

Love requires gentle hands Oh, I did try, I swear! Vividly, I still recall Each time I tried to change.

...

You told me that the love was gone Our future fell apart. Until I learn how to move on,

-

Y O U

H O L D

M Y

B L E E D I N G

H E A R T

[provinzpoet]

what makes a message? form and function.

[provinzpoet]

Changes

"You've changed," you say — as if you see, what all those years have done to me.

There's disappointment in your voice, can't you believe that change's a choice?

"I've changed," I say, that much is true. I'll never add "because of you."

[provinzpoet]

A Playlist of the Past

Have you ever given much thought to your music library? I did, just recently…

Curated over years and years, Expanded patiently.

It’s Metal, Rock, and Ballads, too - no rhyme or reason there, Whatever got me through the days, though hard or nice they were.

Some songs I found quite randomly, by chance once swept ashore, And others then, like memories, I’d swear I’ve heard before.

Some songs had riffs that caught me — intricate and smart, With others there were lyrics, that touched my teenage heart.

I am quite older now, no longer even a tween, Yet those bands, they haven't left me:

“All Time Low”

“Ghost”

“Queen”

-

Now when I’m far away, and the music does play, Every now and again I do pause.

‘Cause I’ll hear a faint beat, I used to have on repeat, I can’t place it, it just feels bittersweet.

Then it comes with a snap, All the mem’ries flood back, Of those days when you still kissed my neck.

-

Have you ever given much thought to your music library?

I did. Just recently…

And every single song, you see, To me? A memory.

About love, about fun, days with friends in the sun, About people I held very dear. …

Some songs do bring more pain, is the artist to blame?

No... It’s just…

When I pause and think back, Where I first heard that track, All that comes to my mind is Your name.

[provinzpoet]

I heard we're doing Intro-Posts?

✨ ‘Ello, I'm Poe!

Come say hi, if you'd like.

Are you in the market for any of these:

🖋️ Poetry 📜 Ramblings & Writing Prompts 💬 Creative Writing (OC & Fanfic) 🤣 Memes, Shitposts & Unmitigated Chaos 🌳 The tumblr-blog equivalent of a quiet forest meadow

Yes? Well, you've come to the right place! This here blog is a place for all of this. It's where I softly cast out my truths - in rhyme, meter, verse or paragraph. Only to reblog the most unhinged meme directly after.

Always SFW, always welcoming to all.

Curious about who I am and what you’ll find here? It’s all waiting just below the cut.

I mostly write introspective and emotional stuff – some from personal experience, some from “what-if’s” and “could-have-been’s.” Trying to balance it out with some levity here and there.

✨ No worries, though - I'm in a very good place, mentally! ✨

So, what exactly are you in for? Poetry, mostly. But let me tell you a bit about what's going on here:

📍 General Themes

📦 Adopt a Page Some pieces never make it into a big post. Others are older poems, excerpts, or spontaneous fragments — Given a physical, tangible form. They all live in Adopt a Page— a quiet little corner for poems looking for a home. If something there speaks to you, you can apply to adopt it.

💌 Dear Poe Whether you have a question, a sentiment to share, or just want to say hi — anonymously or not — I’ll be reading and replying. You reaching out is always appreciated.

✉️ Snail Mail Want to write to me the old-fashioned way? You’ll find my PO box and all info under Snail Mail. I’d be honored to receive your words. And I'll reply, should you include a return address.

🗓️ Weekly Themes

🧱 Word Wall Wednesdays Motivational poster-style image posts with something heartfelt, funny, or painfully real.

⌨️ Typewriter Thursdays One-of-a-kind poems. No drafts. No copies. Typed live on vintage machines — and sent out, one by one. Free of charge. To whoever it’s meant for. Anywhere in the world. You can find the masterpost with the complete archive of every Typewriter Thursday post here.

🏷️ Tags I Use:

#ProvinzPoetry For all original poems

#ProvinzProse For all original short stories, essays and all things prose

#ProvinzWP For writing prompts

#ProvinzPoster For my original image posts

#ProvinzQuotes For quotes and quiet confessions

#A poem for your reblog For spontaneous reblog-inspired poetry

#Typewriter Thursday For typewriter pics, one-off poems & giveaways

#ProvinzHOF For my Hall of Fame - My favorite reactions and interactions

#DearPoe For asks and messages from you guys

(Yes, they’re clickable links. Feel free to explore.)

👤 About Me:

Cis Male (He / Him)

Late-stage Millennial

Musician, Writer & Certified Funny Man™

Good with Computers

Madly in love with Canva - always designing something.

Sophisticated Anime Enjoyer (read: High-Functioning Weeb)

From the land of Bratwurst and Umlauts

For the full aesthetic and reading experience, check out provinzpoet.com — I've spent blood, sweat and tears wrangling that tumblr theme so it'd end up looking presentable.

☕ Ko-Fi

Everything I create here — the poems, the projects, the parcels sent across the world — is given freely, and always will be. If something I’ve made has meant something to you, and you feel moved to tip a little kindness my way, you can do so through my Ko-fi - I’ll keep writing either way.

🚩 TL;DR:

I want this blog to be a safe space for introspection, joy, melancholy, and fun. You are most welcome to lurk, interact, or reach out. I hope you'll find something here that makes you feel.

All are welcome.

Stay a while and enjoy the ride,