The cycle of terror
From hungry soil — from mud of Flanders’ fieldsee us the shell-shocked souls, with hollowed eyes we arethe poppy’s flown, November rain the cries of clay from Sommes, Verdun,and Katowice the rats and lice,the […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Shadowed silence
During the first days of the pandemic, the world grew silent as if in chock. Even the wind faded and the water surface mirrored the pale whiteness of the overcast […]
Fanciful lust
It wasn’t the reek of decay that aroused him — death and pestilence had been his companions and friendsever since he crossed those bridges at dusk;the night of necrosis had seemed eternal but […]
Hands
“The clear vowels rise like balloons” S.Plath ~ Morning Song If this angel’s hands are wingsher voice the birds of preyher smile the arrow singeing steelto heal the scars, to […]
Clouds above a sea calm
When — my sweetheart did we get lost,wayward drifting on these wild and windless waters?Where — my darling, did we part ways, with me at sea and you at shore?Why — […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 