My home’s my castle
From floor to ceiling bookshelves and a fireplace. words for healing with a glass of wine and jazz. My house is poetry. I am warden of its books and garden, […]
The prisoner
I’m prisoned – cringe at pasty faces, grins and hate from fellow inmates, noise of jailer’s lock and key. serving stew at dawn. Exotic roaches, rats and worms. are company […]
Both beast and bride
There is something dark about the forests during winter here. The spruce is shadow, and paths are faint. I remember that my mother tied a bell around my neck so […]
March’s Guest Storyteller, Björn Rudberg
Originally posted on Sarah Potter Writes:
Björn Rudberg is a blogger and a poet hailing from Stockholm Sweden. He has a PhD in physics but works with businesses in the…
Spell him sick
Wave my wand, to play him tricks, wither prick and make him sick. Let him puke and spook him stiff, Wave my wand, my heart is black Then burn his […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 