My mist of thoughts


I remember words,
     as pebbles, 
           beads unstringed,
as waves of thoughts, 
     impressions
leaves and sieved from tarns
as silver, moonlight spilled.

“You said it wrong. 
It never was like this
      It was a matter clinging
to my fork, it was gravy from 
a Sunday steak”

It was the loneliness of night 
       when
dreams where lumpy pillows and
my bedsheet moist and stretched
tightly. 
       Snugging morning, 
    I am a
teddy bear with pebble eyes.

The words of night
     I cannot make
into a necklace, sentences are
spotted, lastly lost

     across the hours until dawn.

I don’t remember words

      It’s lost for light — my mist
      of thought.

IMG_0069
Today Karin, teach us an exercise on toads writing poetry by just writing freely for 7 minutes on what we remember and make it as a springboard for a new poem. This is the little thing I came up with after some minimum editing. I will also link up to Poetry Pantry tomorrow morning.

November 14, 2015

34 responses to “My mist of thoughts

  1. Yes, words as pebbles makes sense to me. We take these pebbles, arrange them into poetry. A teddy bear with pebble eyes gives another impression….I think I’d rather write poetry. Smiles.

  2. I like the way the thoughts flow freely on the page, whimsical yet pragmatic with the steak and lumpy pillows. I always love to see a poem hand-written, like the voice, it gives a new level of authenticity.

  3. I love this piece – you managed to capture those words we seem to lose in the halfway point between asleep and awake – ‘Snugging morning, I am a teddy bear with pebble eyes’ – is a very haunting image..not quite nightmare but troublesome perhaps – also love the word tarn!

  4. “dreams where lumpy pillows”
    Ah yes! Where we live in the night and it’s magical contradictions! I f only we could remember it all in the morning!

  5. your words, more than pebbles or gravy from a Sunday steak or eyes, are magic! wonderful imagery.
    and i like how you use the courier font in this post. reminds me of the old times with a typewriter.:)

  6. Your words are indeed like beads on a string, complementing each other, each distinct,yet making a purposeful and coherent whole–you have managed to keep the sense of a free write while making things intelligible and meaningful to the reader. I especially like the contrast between the first and second stanza.

  7. A lovely piece of memory…”gravy from a Sunday steak.” I loved going there with you, felt I had been there before, knew the lumpy pillow, the loneliness of night, reminded me of my dream last night…the little yellow green cream pitcher, and Mrs Hulquist, my Mother’s friend. My Sister was with her Sons….

  8. You’ve kept a nice dream like feel that gets across the ephemeral nature of those perfect words we find at night only to lose when the sun comes up.

  9. I like how the beads / necklace come in full circle. Writing is always a challenge but it’s always satisfying to finish one. Thanks Bjorn

  10. This is an exercise that I do not think that I could do – at least not well. I find it very difficult to “free” my stream of consciousness, though I wish I was less inhibited … as I am often amazed where others go, poetically, when they do. Some wonderful gems among those unstringed beads, Björn.

  11. I loved this neat poem and the image of “I am a
    teddy bear with pebble eyes.” is fantastic..
    Great flow of words and thoughts…Brudberg!

  12. One would never know this is the real you being discussed here. I for one, after having read so very much of your work, think you made it all up.
    My favorite! “loneliness of night when dreams w(h)ere lumpy pillows.”
    ..

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