Padlocked door – photo Björn Rudberg
my hope’s like rust on padlocked doors
as poems wear resistance down
but then we’re trading peace for wars
my hope were rust on padlocked doors
when whitewashed lying settles scores
and chains replaced, in blood we drown
but hope’s like rust on padlocked doors
as poems wear resistance down
Tonight it’s OLN at dVerse. Doors open at 3PM CET – Be there 🙂
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February 25, 2014
Björn Rudbergs writings 
This seems to me a fairly pessimistic triolet, but then again I am not sure I totally understand this one. First of all, the door is padlocked. Secondly, there is rust on the padlock, which means it has been padlocked for a long time. Seems not to be hope that the door will be opened again. And the last line does not leave the poem with a feeling of optimism either, but then again that is the way the world is sometime.
I thought the last lines would turn it slightly more optimistic — never give up… the rust will eat the locks again…
We, as human beings, seem unable not to trade peace for wars, even when it could probably be avoided. It seems blood speaks louder than words.
Sometimes it seems so.. But I think if we don’t give up .. maybe.
Good poem, Bjorn. Mankind has always been at war somewhere in the world. However, that said, we should always pray and hope for peace. I hope most people realize it’s far too lethal to go to war these days. We’d all be the losers.
I think that too many think that war is the solution…
really love how well this flows and the comparison of the padlock rust to the more defining, difficult things in life!
stacy lynn mar
I think the rust will finally make way through..
so the rust will finally eat the locks and free whatever is locked there..? maybe i’m too impatient to wait for the rust to do its work…ha…that’s just me though….sometimes there’s no other way
you know, if all out the rust which eats away just a bit at the time will allow the rest to break free eventually…we cant always bust through in one swing you know…sometimes it takes time.
There is a bellicose side to doves when they are hungry or are mating; just watch ants battling wasps, hawks diving down on rabbits, lions mauling trainers; peace is like happiness; a few moments respite between conflicts & pain. Peace, I suppose, without saber-rattling to back it up, is like tits on a two-by-four; not functional relative to human nature. Did I ever tell you that taking pics of padlocks is one of my joys?
I specially like the last two lines, hope winning out with the rust ~ A slight variation on the refraining line made it a little different ~
See you later Bjorn, smiles ~
“but then we’re trading peace for wars” — Somber tone, great piece. Nice one!
Shame that it takes rust and destruction to wear resistance down though… a rather sombre poem, indeed…
Serious … drop of perfection.
Oh, boy! You know I have to google Triolet! The poem itself, sounds more pessimistic than I think you are Mr. Bjorn. Based on your prior verse…it makes me curious, actually.
Love the insight to hope here – as it grows like a rust,as it forms on a base. Beautiful.
rust is a theme this week, it seems ~
Bjorn – thought this was a well constructed triolet – in a way an odd form for a protest poem – as it was devised to be musical, a dance and it moves as one, with a solid beat and clever repetitions. I suppose the war and peace cycle is a sort of dance – although at times a macabre oneI, I however, didn’t think it started out somber – but rather as a poem that speaks of poetry and its effects on the peace process..an aged device of artists to inspire kings, princes and politicians to return to the process – slow as it is (like rust on anything), it continues to have an effect and sway the minds of those who will listen. Well done.
I didn’t write today – so you get a pass with me 🙂
i truly believe that all expressions of creativity..in that spirit of hope and love can lubricate the rust of hate..breaking free..for the full love of hope..and peace..:)
Wonderful, Bjorn. I live in hope that the pen will remain mightier than the sword. It’s my ‘weapon’ anyway…
‘when whitewashed lying settles scores and chains replaced, in blood we drown’ ~ love the sound and meaning of these lines ~ hope sometimes get rusty, but then like in your poem the rust eats padlock…
Poetry can help change the world through peace and wars – revolutionary really like rust words get underneath our very skin! —
well done! –joanie
I’m always impressed by the powerful use of form poetry. Beyond my ken, I’m afraid. Glad you can do it for me,
Very powerful poem Bjorn.
So hard to keep hope alive when there is so much happening in the world today…but we have to. A strong poem.
Wonderful use of form here to evoke emotions!
Hope’s like rust on padlocked doors… like that turn around there… great Triolet Bjorn!!
I’ve seen enough old Volvos rust to know that rust does eventually win out and the padlock falls apart. I think what you’re talking about is patience here. Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems that poetry really isn’t understood by the general public as anything but obscure art that only “some” people can understand. And that is just…wrong. Poetry IS an art form, and if enough people keep trying to understand it, and how it speaks to us as individuals, just like a painting, a word painting, then they wouldn’t be afraid to try it. Like I was afraid to try sushi because I didn’t want to look stupid doing it for the first time…
Tack för vad du sa om mitt lilla experiment…Jag har varit väldigt sjuk och vill bara go ut och leka…
Tina @ Life is Good
Bjorn, you do this form so well, rust does eventually wear down but, it is a slow process..maybe, in time someone will find the key to the padlock..
Great work with form. And words. Well, everything really.
Awesome job.
“hope like rust on padlocked doors”…those words touch me deeply today. Thank you. I needed those words.
Took me a few reads, but I think I “got it”. The doors may be locked, but the rust will provide the opening in the end. Brilliant!
At first I thought you were echoing the possibility of dVerse closing its doors…such a sad thought. But do understand the freedom at the end when the padlocked is rusted through and the door can open.
Wonderful. The Triolet is one of my favorite forms. There is a high level of difficulty in composing in short form with so many repeats. Bravo!
that’s a complicated poem u have done here……………..
I would padloock all the guns and bombs and implements of war into an impregnable corral made from an incorruptible material, impervious to rust and decay, and cover the contents with a solvent. Your poem felt like a cry, Bjorn, and yes, poetry could help to do the job.
This is lovely Bjorn you have used the repetition so very powerfully.
I was just about to write my comment and saw Summerstommy’s – which I was going to say – regardless of being beaten to the punch – I do love your style BR. Patience as I took this to be about… sometimes is not easy, in writing or wanting peace.
War kills! That was before.Now war is big business. Weapons are tested and ‘advertised’ on their capabilities.Done with a view of sales but of an inferior equivalent. Will it ever change! Nicely Bjorn!
Hank
I really love this, love that line of hope being like rust… I like to think that hope conquers many things, even if it can be a slow process. Hope is what keeps us going.
there is some optimism in the refrain couplet, i think. “as poems wear resistance down…” yes. we can change the way the world sees.
Love this both in and out of context of today’s dVerse announcement. The pen can be mightier than the sword, but that can be positive or negative depending on the amount of passive resistance it gives other’s poetry.
This particularly adapts to the triolet form I think. We ought to be tired of war by now but maybe that is just me getting older…never thought it would solve anything…I think we can still hope for peace, though
The poem asks us to wait long for those lucks to be eaten by the rust… A long wait, maybe, but the hope is there.
Like hope deferred (rust) awhile, this did come off pessimistic for you.
If only we could end the world’s woes with words. It’s a nice thought.
Wonderfully woven repetition here!
Such good work with the form–a form I don’t think I’ve tried yet. And beautiful simile.
“whitewashed lying settles scores”…ouch. Hope lives on. Striking work Bjorn.
Interesting, startling and fresh triolet Bjorn…good use of an intriguing form…I quite like it…I like what you put on my blog too and since I live fairly far north (probably not as far north as you maybe…53rd parallel only)…I appreciate the sentiment as well…thanks for stopping by…
I’m no great fan of hope. To me hope is despair with a pretty face painted on. It’s giving up on the idea that I can affect the outcome and someone or something else (divine intervention?) will instead come along and make things better. Poetry, however, is more like a file or hacksaw or explosion…
I do like the idea of rust. It promises progress, no matter how slow. There’s room for faith there.
If only poems could do that.
I like the idea of poems wearing down resistance the way rust can eat away the locks that keep too many in or out depending upon which side of the door you occupy. Poetry is a positive act in the world and any act is capable of changing the world.
This is the second time today I’ve read about rust in comparison to life. Got me thinking I should explore this more. Well done, my friend.
Great lines-hope is like rust and hence it is bound to corrode those padlocks and we will be set free from our bondage-bravo!
I like the imagery here Bjorn. To me, it seems you are trying to show that hope is not lost. That while rust takes time to wear down the metal, it does, nonetheless, continue slowly and steadily to achieve its goal. I think there’s (bleak) hope in this one, but hope nonetheless. Like it.