Crumbling walls
Parched this soil of me — as in the shadow by this crumbling bulwark only nettles bloom. A soul like mine needs dande- lion strength to sing(e); to sprout and […]
Monthly Archives: March 2018
Cleaning the house
Every new beginning clings to the edge, of a pivotal moment of regret; for a sorrow that can’t be measured, but carries in itself a weight, like the sickly smell […]
Enjoined to write
Thursday afternoon ~ The sound of rain on window – but soon friday #haiku — Björn (@brudberg) March 10, 2011 Every poem I have ever written exist in a digital […]
Remember green
Forced by famine on green green grass, an island cemetery infested by potato fungi on waves of hunger migrants came, to settle, to carve another bit of promised land to […]
Childhood
Dear Childhood, I know you always run beside me, barefoot, pointing at another flower, asking what it’s called. There are times, I miss that courage that I had to ask, […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 