This verse is neither plea
nor pardon,
it’s the scabs I pick,
the poetry of open wounds,
an ever-present future
of every Monday past.
These syllableeding
sentences
wrenched from aching veins
I’ve set to strings
for a senseless spring
are softly stitched
to sorrows
They are the only
way to cope
in pestilence and plague,
they bring tomorrow
to a past I’ve lost.
The Plague by Arnold Böcklin
Linked to OLN at dVerse where any one poem is welcome-
—
May 14, 2020
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Heavy duty, brother, this ode to Ms. Corona (which I liked better as the beer). Great wordsmithing, like “the poetry of open wounds”, and “these syllableeding sentences”, “are softly stitched to sorrows”. Reminds me of some Leonard Cohen lyrics/lines.
“they bring tomorrow / to a past I’ve lost”
Thus poetry keeps alive what might otherwise be lost.
The poetry of open wounds, what a powerful image. That’s really got me thinking Bjorn.
I like the word “syllableeding” and the description of poetry as picking scabs.
I agree with Glenn, there is a certain Leonard Cohen feel to your poem. “not a plea and not a pardon” seems fixed in the “ever-present future of every Monday past” which is the curse of woe in “pestilence and plague.” It does grow wearisome 😦
You’ve captured the essence of what we are all feeling so well Bjorn.
Take a bow…
The scabs we pick do continually bleed, but the do feel good when we first start scratching!!
I love the metaphor poetry as picking scabs!
Do write on, by all means!
Sad but well written.
Poetry can be a kind and consoling friend…nice alliteration and personification
I pick the poetry of open wounds. I wounder if the stitches are strong enough hold during the stretch of skin.
“the poetry of open wounds” and “stitched to sorrows” … you DO have a masterful way with words!
Syllableeding…that’s a great word. We need stitches everywhere. (K)
“the poetry of open wounds” – A repeating of our days without a future where the scab will finally heal. This poem was great.
Tight, tense and intense. Love the poetry of open wounds and sentences stitched to sorrow!
I love how you journey through time here as you explore the sorrow.
Rona is a bitch. syllableeding! wow!
kaykuala
are softly stitched
to sorrows
They are the only
way to cope
The way to maintain sanity in periods of physical inactivity imposed the past weeks. It tells of a common dilemma for all tugging at the conscience.
Hank
Loved the entire poem, especially these lines :-
They are the only
way to cope
in pestilence and plague,
they bring tomorrow
to a past I’ve lost.
Thank you for such a wonderful poem. 🙂
I agree with Glenn and Lisa, you seem to be channelling the spirit of Leonard Cohen in the poem, Björn. I love the alliterative title. the ‘poetry of open wounds’, and the portmanteau word ‘syllableeding’, which leads to the softer sibilance-soaked lines:
‘sentences
…
…set to strings
for a senseless spring
are softly stitched
to sorrows’
like violins playing in the background.
Wow, Bjorn, and I thought Sweden was dealing with the corona storm. Yes, for many of us it has been life changing and challenging. Your poem reflects anger for a lost past. Too many lost and for me a close friend’s well loved partner.
I think we are dealing with it well… but the recommendations we are given are still being obeyed, so the difference between us and the rest of the world is not that different… normally government recommendations are followed to about 90% which is more than it is with some laws.
Yes, am glad that most people understand and accept the science. Keep safe and well.
A phenomenal write. Sorry, but I am just speechless.
“These syllableeding
sentences
wrenched from aching veins
I’ve set to strings
for a senseless spring
are softly stitched
to sorrows
They are the only
way to cope”
What stunning poetry/music flows form you.
I have to agree – these lines are lovely:
“These syllableeding
sentences
wrenched from aching veins
I’ve set to strings
for a senseless spring
are softly stitched
to sorrows”
I keep feeling pangs of grief when a movie shows restaurants, or Paris, or children playing together. All those places I could have visited, things I could have done on a whim- out of the question now. That’s the past I want back.. the recent one…
Lost past and only vague visions of how a future might look. Splendid.