When my hands have gone
from writing cursive into typing
my notebooks blank,
and ink has lost its meaning,
Poetry is far away from dust
but rests unread
in a place that’s not a bookshelf.
In a cloud somewhere
they sleep with photos, films
my library always close
but never seen
except by hyperscalers
processing my soul for revenue.
And I keep
trading my being
for convenience,
and to be entertained
by endless reels.
Today it is Open Link at dVerse hosted by Grace. Any one poem is welcome as we join and read having fun in the meantime
August 27, 2026
Björn Rudbergs writings 
that 2nd stanza is Ars poetica in a very lovely nutshell
It is… or if we let it be.
Well I hope that all our poems end up in the clouds, literally Bjorn. And bring back cursive writing too (I read its coming back for kids). And its sad if we selling our souls by doom scrolling to bottomless pit,
Clouds come in many ways… hope it will rain poetry from those clouds.
This is so deep and potent. I love the image “In a cloud somewhere they sleep with photos, films.” ❤️❤️
And alas it is true if it is a computer cloud.
I agree with Laura on this one, Björn.
Thank you too.
That is a dismal state of being you’ve described for sure, “process my soul for revenue” and trading “being” for “convenience.” By contrast, having one’s “head in the clouds” can be inspiring, even necessary, for us poets!
I agree.
Unlike the one in the image you used, the cloud you write about is not comforting. The unseen aspect is probably the most unsettling part about it. The idea that our creative output is being pawed over by entities for profit doesn’t help either.
“Poetry is far away from dust
but rests unread
in a place that’s not a bookshelf.”
very entertaining lines
much love
You do have a choice, of course.
Very nice Bjorn! A wispy adage to the storage of information our souls keep….loved it!! 🧡
I have journals of dreams and poetry. I still write in them there is something therapeutic about writing and not typing. I am hopeful that my words will live on when I am gone through my journals. My ancestors recorded their thoughts on pages hidden in books and bibles and on postcards. It is a gift to read their stories.
A thought provoking poem.
Love should never make you feel like you are competing for someone’s attention. A healthy relationship is built on loyalty, respect, and the feeling of being chosen even when no one is watching. You deserve someone who protects your connection, appreciates your heart, and makes you feel secure instead of constantly questioning your place in their life. The right person will never make you feel like an option, they will make you feel like home.
#RealTalk #RelationshipAdvice #KnowYourWorth #HealthyLove #SelfRespect
Ooof, this feels personal, since I’ve been making a concerted effort to spend a lot less time on my phone lately, and have been using notebooks for reminders, tasks, appointments which I transfer to electronic calendars etc once a day.
However… I’m not great at writing poetry by hand, at all., and haven’t been for decades now, except when I was a child. And that e-cloud is looming, casting a heavy shadow. I need to make more of a concerted effort on this too.
So much to balance. Thank you for the reminder, so elegantly written.
I am way too guilty of the reels thing too. So sad… But that’s why we do have dVerse … To remind us that reading good poetry feels better!
loved it!
they sleep with photos, films
my library always close
but never seen
Very true Bjorn for most of us. No messy writes at hand but in a Cloud some where not readily seen!
Hank
A beautiful summary of the changes we are going through as times change all around us! Well done.
A wonderful poem, Björn. I especially love:
“ink has lost its meaning”
“Poetry is far away from dust
but rests unread
in a place that’s not a bookshelf.”
“processing my soul for revenue”
A sad truth . Second stanza is beautiful!
Even now, while we’re here, we’re just traces, our words hopefully appreciated.
A salutary warning to us all, Björn, well put…
Is “my stuff” really in the cloud, will the cloud get so heavy it explodes, does anyone write letters? Your poem made me ask ~ your fault!! A great write, Bjorn.
Wow, you painted the picture of the online rabbit hole very well. This poem is an alarm bell, sounding loudly.
I still use cursive, though not often enough, but that last stanza names the human condition, we battle ourselves for quailty writing time.