For sticky greedy fingers – 55 words
The poppies flew on Flanders fields see ghosts of soldiers prancing once sacrificed like guinea pigs for national financing their spirits flew on gossamer like butterflies were dancing the sickly […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
A short ode to a dead walnut
still a reminder of Christmas past breaking into a treasure chest of windled kernels released in crack crack sound like that Tjajkovsky suite where flower waltz with children my treasure […]
we waxed and waned – for dVerse
so wicked and burned my candlestump we waxed and waned together your dancing flames of youthfullness has left me now forever this darkness and in loneliness in grey an dreary […]
Where poppies flew – For Friday Fictioneers
My days pass slowly under the shadow of a temple bell. That ominous bell tolling threnodies of losses, of sorrows I bear under a facade of stoic boredom. The poppies […]
Your persian rugs – for dVerse and Visdare
I’ve walked these passages before, the passages and corridors you’ve sent me to explore. My sanity I’ve found behind a door, that’s painted blue. The door you guided me to […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 