Captured in ink-danceboth moon-street silver,bud-bursts blossom, forgotten springand alas, a sentence-explosionof built-up angerfor what’s lostto misinterpreted mind-mapsof a brow-folded soul. Still we nightshade forgetand gloss the axe-wordswith honey-muted lips. In […]
This poem is an ink- dance, it’s my trance, a riddle-maker’s tune for buds-a-bursts and barefoot-walks. A poem for the sake of sun-glassed stance for red-eyed-dawns and dusk of cotton-candy-skies […]
In fiddle-wrecking, mustard-seeking, grasp for comprehension. Should we wreck the sacred fifty-five? of honesty-compression and lugubrious self-exposing, word-explosions beyond the mind-expanding borders of the sacred fifty-five. Should we paint-by-number Friday-ode’s […]
with lashes of your language-dagger you’re cutting pieces with your anger-axe and carve me nicely with your wrangle-scalpel but when you use your temptress-snake and softly twirl your honey-fork around […]
Sweet moon dancer and the meal creator Our garden’s friend, and diamond bearer, lullaby singer honey whisperer Our decision maker and unpaid laborer. The butterfly charmer and home’s defender. Today […]
Writing about living in two places (and times)
Poems & Stories from The Author Stew
practising for a whole life
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis
Björn Rudbergs writings 