When gradually I blend
with dancers of the shadowplay
with canopies aghast
with beasts and birds
seeking shelter
just like me, a memory.
I walk to find a path
among the clouds you left,
‘Can we be friends?’ you said
with faint perfumes of him
sickle-trickling from your lips,
your tongue a rosebud
wilted, left between your teeth.
far too long….. ago.
I’m dubbed disease
and keep my words inhaled
mumbled, hidden
in smothered sips of pebbles
smooth and hard, not forgotten
far too long….. ago.
Reality is relative — a shadow
just like Plato said:
what we see and what has passed
within our dreams
are copycats and suicides,
projections of what we really wished
far too long….. ago.
Corey gives us a scene to use to imagine being lost inside a cave during an Arizona rainstorm at toads, I tried to include some flashbacks found in the shadows on the wall of the cave.
—
June 11, 2015
Björn Rudbergs writings 
I’m guessing my comments are redundant and insufficient–but nonetheless I’m always blown away by your stellar writing gift, Bjorn. Good day–
I like the reference to Plato in this mesmerizing piece 🙂
Well done 😀
well done – clap, clap!
Oh gah, it’s not you, it’s me! Painful, this.
wow, a sad embrace written as well as anyone could write it. This is totally amazing writing, although I must now adjourn to the other room to cut my wrists….lol. Thanks so much for playing today Bjorn!!!
Beautiful metaphors and images. I think anyone who has loved and lost (which is surely most of us) will be touched by this.
“I walk to find a path among the clouds you left”…….so sad and poignant. This poem touches my heart, Bjorn. And the photo is SPECTACULAR. Is that in your area somewhere?
Much closer to you actually. The photo is from Bryce Canyons
Your words flow beautifully, and the imagery is clear – even without the photo!
Life’s like that
The last stanza was quite a blow to me, like taking of the life support on the last remnants of hope the others offered. I loved the poem, it is very relatable.
The second and third stanzas wowed me…
The mournful cadence of the past–full of regrets yet holding such power over us–your refrain was just perfect, and the mood dark and shining at the same time–totally encompasses what one might see, looking ou from the cave of what has been–really excellent, Bjorn.
This is a most singular piece of poetry, Bjorn. I was so struck by your use of the word ‘sickle-trickling’ to describe the tainted speech of one who has forever fallen from grace, and the second to last stanza is an amazing summation of the after-effects of a broken heart.. all amazingly wrapped up in your conclusion. A most affecting poem.
So many phrases to sink into here and “dancers of the shadowplay” starts off the first stanza beautifully. Loved this and the photo is on par with the poem!
Oh wow…your closing especially is so powerful…the entirety is so moving. I love this:
“faint perfumes of him
sickle-trickling from your lips,
your tongue a rosebud
wilted, left between your teeth.
far too long….. ago.”
Wow.
Ha! We both went towards Plato and sips, Bjorn. Swedes thinking alike! The rosebud seemed reminiscent of Orson Welles as well as perfectly naturalistic. Thanks. k.
Whew. Solid piece , copycats and suicides is a solid line and the description of the tongue as a )wilted rosebud is awesome.
Great descriptions using metaphors, Bjorn. Well done. 🙂 — Suzanne
Well done!
An elaborate dream – chocked with meaning. Wonderfully conceived and layered; the epistrophe repetition skilfully grounding a phenomenal, somewhat esoteric mystic spectacle.