Sometimes I dream of of being carcass, corpse, remains
Sometimes I dream of dancing with the dead.
Sometimes I dream of blood and bones; decay and rot;
of being none and nought; of being left alone.
Sometimes I see the lichen headstone with my name upon;
and hear a knell of bells that call for ever deeper sleep.
Sometimes I dream of breathless soil and ash;
I dream of vacant eyes, scent of earthworms, snails and mold.
Sometimes I wake and sense a presence in the room
and wonder when it’s time for me to leave.
A dead leaf by Avigdor Arikha
Time for OLN at dVerse hosted by Grace. Bring any one poem you want.
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January 11, 2017
Björn Rudbergs writings 
a very pensive and haunting piece. Interestingly…this is the second poem that I have read today that speaks (directly or indirectly) of dead leaves. (if you’re interested…the other one is by British poet Malcolm Guite…https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2018/01/11/in-praise-of-decay-and-against-plastic-2/)
I think this is a season when death is as closest….
Wistful, and rather sorrowful
Or an acceptance of facts
but you aren’t old? ( I know that isn’t the only reason for death)
Maybe that you sometimes think about it anyway…. I’m well and not that young either.
I think you have a point….
Beautiful dreams of fading and dying Bjorn~ The repetition works…
Repetition and pauses is my favorite tools at the moment.
I do the same, Bjorn, and do not feel it is depressing or morbid, but rather a call to awareness and to living life to the fullest today. Such a beautiful expression of this.
Thank you… I think there is comfort in not knowing actually.
It’s sad. It can be seductive though. The structure works well.
The repetition of ‘sometimes’ is effective in reminding the reader that the poet doesn’t have a death wish but is contemplating death in general. This time of the year is ‘dead time’ when nothing much happens and you have captured that in your poem, Bjorn.
Winter is a time for death to rear it’s head and you capture the feeling so well.
They have a saying here that Winter always calls a few spirits home and the repetition of ‘sometimes I dream’ works very well in your poem
There are many forms of death, but in Winter they all loom large. Your piece is very sensual, makes me rub my nose to get the damp moldy smell out of it
I think maybe we get worn down in the winter-time. I like the repetition it is soothing.
Wow Bjorn, great writing, so dark with a sense of waiting for what is to come.
Very cool!
Love the recording. More of that!
There is a beautiful and palpable sense of embracing the reality of death in your words, Bjorn. Especially love; “Sometimes I dream of breathless soil and ash; I dream of vacant eyes, scent of earthworms, snails and mold.”
kaykuala
Sometimes I wake and sense a presence in the room
and wonder when it’s time for me to leave.
It would have been with lots of fulfillment in life!
Hank
Nice audio. I liked the rhyme sound between “rot” and “nought”.
Such a rich and pensive piece–I think you are right about feeling closer to death during winter–the small sleep–the big sleep–
Very haunting
Well-done, Björn! A play on the words dead and leaves between the title and the end couplet — when it’s time to leave
This is haunting, just like the presence in the room. I often wake in the night and feel the darkness.
Sounds a bit like Dickens to the third power! You will know, You will know!! (<:
Dwight
I smell the rich, dank earth when I read this. Well done!
I think you make death, burial, and the “breathless soil and ash” seem nearly romantic. Even the bells tolling are not mournful but celebratory in a somber way. Ha, or maybe I’m just really tired and could use a good rest.
shivers. enjoyed the live reading too!
I wonder that, too.
I wonder too…
It surprises me how many times lately death has crossed my mind.
Your audio brings great life to your words
I do hope your dreams improve. Life is worth dreaming about as well as living.
Haunting and beautiful, and quite strong too. Death throughout and then the last word is ‘leave’. Cleverly done.
At first I thought this morbid, but it’s not. It’s something that we all think of, especially as we age where death is not a stranger amongst us. Actually, this is quite beautiful, Bjorn.
As always, your’s is an interesting take. Something we will never know, when we weren’t, and when we will not be…
A dark aftertaste to those dreams. (K)
I’m so grateful you’ve started adding your own readings to your posts, Björn. This one especially brings your poem to life (if you’ll pardon the expression …)
As another commenter used…I would say this was haunting. I guess we all have to question our mortality from time to time. But I like the repetition here. Loved it as always.
Haunting. I think we all visit those thoughts, our mortality. Good piece.
a meditation on death, with evocative images throughout! I like your use of repetition!