hello world, please give attention,
i have somebody to mention:
carved outta best canadian wood,
her name is dekker, melanie,
to all the beings she's so good
like only an angel can be.
this is a true tale of "mel d",
either way she's a spicy girl,
no triplet with mel b and c,
but too an entertainment-whirl!
with endurance and ambition,
contagious laugh and charity
is her life a good-heart-mission,
that's a well combined rarity!
in calgary her fire lit,
she's families "olympic girl",
once "parents-joy-expansion kit"
then vancouvers most precious pearl!
mum and dad dragged her far westwards,
grew up in an olympic town,
and soon then she learned the first chords
with the fire, that can't burn down.
in canada she is well known,
with joy she sings, masters the strings,
the music is her megaphone
for love, life, dreams and other things.
forget alanis, sarah "MC"!
what, you don't know this gifted chick?
this "top-notch westcoast charming-pack"?!
don't miss her, hurry up, be quick!
some europe-tours then were her choice,
concerts with big and tiny crowds.
they listen to her soothing voice,
feel like a walk on fluffy clouds.
right now she climbs the europe-stair,
from west, east, north, east, north, west, south,
where she snapped the word "knutschibaer"
out of somebodys german mouth.
from sunrise to the sunset long
as well straight through the night at least
i could watch, listen every song,
spell "knutschibaer", i like that beast!
in just a second, with presence,
she brings a smiley in a heart.
her sunshine reaches the audience
and noone near her feels apart.
please whisper it, i feel the drafts,
a touch of sweetness fills the air
and like a butterfly it wafts
into my ears, that "knutschibaer".
harmonic her voice with "taylor",
so purring, smoky, soft, deep, rough,
stronger than popeye the sailor,
but SHE WITHOUT that spinach-stuff!
please yell that word, yeah, "knutschibaer",
with your accent, loud as you can!
i could eat you for that, yeah yeah!
shout it again! again!! AGAIN!!!
i like her stomping heels on stage
while she caresses the guitar,
from softly gently up to rage.
i'm sitting close, but she seems far.
"the hippie kissed the schwein and blush",
"saturday flirt with soldiers stare",
all epic songs, all royal flush,
but mostly i love "knutschibaer"!
i watch her fingers hug the neck,
the right hand's moving down and up,
and sometimes, look, just for a sec,
some pluck turns off the body-scrub.
but most i like, hey, can you guess,
besides her songs, smiles, moving hair,
oh damn, i really can't suppress:
you're right, that's the word "knutschibaer"!
i wish i could the reason spy
which were the last things made she cried!?
all about it: what, when and why?
perhaps a secret she will hide.
the answer to this is a shrug.
about the tears, how could they dried?
by tissue, pillow, shoulder, hug?
or had a "knutschibaer" beside!?
i don't know if you really care,
but come again, a last time, please!
so beautiful sounds "knutschibaer",
or shall i beg, down on my knees?
for countless people, i would swear,
you're the largest lucky clover.
thank you for reading "knutschibaer",
poetry ends here - "POEM OVER!"
Dict.cc musste mir übrigens sehr oft helfen... 
😂
