Color of sea
Some claim the sea is blue, but other say it’s green. I often see the sea as grey, when clouds obscure horizon and every sound crawls closer. On such days […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Sleepless in October
it’s not rain nor persistent wind — autumn’s weight is darkness penetrating skin and veins turning blood to stone dressed in shroud of moss and bracken somber songs from corpse […]
Being family
We’ll chain your hopes to outpoured milk and burn your laughter with small disasters. Being mother means to be smothered with silk Because you’re our slave and we are masters. […]
Holding on to feathers
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – Emily Dickinson How do we hold a precious thing with feathers? How do we spot the hues in all that’s grey? How do […]
Birdbrain
They called me birdbrain. I was their punchbag and aunt Sally. I tried my best to be complacent. All in vain — they left me shipwrecked to my failures. I […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 