Pretense of acorn
Today I picked an acorn from the ground; lost it laid, a cast-away, a sentence halfway crushed; it’s shedded early, shunned by mother oak, a nut and nothing but still […]
Tag Archives: poetry
Shipwrecked
When Cupid’s arrow pierced me; it only nicked your breast, but left me bleeding, lonely, scared, repenting left me to my precious mourning; to my seascape sorrow, frozen and marooned, […]
Black and blacker
When darkness tiptoed through our streets, we shut the windows, blocked the doors before they knocked. “This night is death”, you cried, “it stabs my gut”. We listened to the […]
In the serpent’s belly
Serpent, lightworm, subway snaking under streets and sewers; while we, its cargo, shoulder next to shoulder, sit with faces glued to smartphones traveling in solitude on dreams we carry; we […]
Laughing at the circus
What were we taught as kids, laughing at a bawling clown, the whipped horses a caged old lion and the outraged midget? Was it comforting to feel that just for […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 