Metamorphosis
In maypoled dreams, she waits with eyes alight for nights of fiddler’s tunes and flowers picked. Just like Pomona let herself from sleight of hand be led, she’s longing to […]
Tag Archives: sonnet
The answer is the not to be
When answers come today it’s not to be a thin white duke, a purple prince; a year the music died (again); in haze it’s seen comparing to a summer’s day […]
A man of stone
Between its ticking motion and the stay your wailing lingers were resentment sits in pretentious sports arenas; this display. of pompous yelp with fabricated wits a politician gag in schadenfreude […]
The music of wait
There’s a melody, a voice of myself: a timbre, a tone a faintness in echo of ash; a footstep that’s planted in stealth in the night, a fading finale, a […]
Snaring lords a-leaping
Your nape is bent, with gentle weight of snow, the strands of hair reflecting light; as gold your eyes are tinsel under mistletoe. This night I shiver, bent in night […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 