Some Kind of Word Artist

A moment to explode or, an accidental piece of shyness, can’t get it in bloom, all you want, the will, the most lovable feeling, inside a bubble that you can’t crack, because the fear is a thick skin onan equally… Continue reading

Inside, like air of a balloon by thin shelter of thoughtfulness stands a man in a comfort zone, sad with lack of happiness. Stuck, as flies in the spider’s net lies a hug all alone, miles away, captured by thoughts… Continue reading

Color doesn’t matter by the end of the rainbowwhen roses grow, by love, but die by the waterfall, in meanwhile all the golden flowers build a road along a silver field, full of roses to walk on, for you, only for you…  © Björn… Continue reading

Filled by fire,  a monster of a kind,  what happened,  what is it to find.  To feed, to grow,  like a big worry, what is it, what makes me sorry? Bad thoughts,  an anxiety to fight, what happened,  there’s no… Continue reading

Uncut thoughts are filled to the top all the way down through my body Unresolved issues run non stop, to pump my veins, hard and bloody Unwanted information, in a war room between my chest and my brain Unpolished madness… Continue reading

Sometimes a small light in a tunnel, a winter’s day. Twenty four hours by eighteen with darkness. Only a memory flashes by. A moment as a traveler in a wheelchair along dark culverts – heading for the goal. Searching for… Continue reading

Today, my existence, words on a stone Tomorrow, my voice, a tool in your hand Yesterday, my future, was written in the sand Someday, my destiny, leaves me alone ©️ Björn Blomqvist 2021-06-03 Continue reading

What ifIt happensNow or laterWhat ifIt’s going to happenThen or tomorrowWhat ifI’m crazyOr… © Björn Blomqvist 2021-05-21 Continue reading

One word, one person, a frame Two words, two colors, a contour More words, many motifs, one picture  One voice, one listener, one opinion  Two voices, two people, one talk A lot of repeats, huge mistakes, one chance  …who am… Continue reading

A winter’s day in January 1981. One place, boys and a lot of guardian angels. Ice-cold snow by the road, as walls in a war. A road covered by ice, smooth like a mirror. There’s a line between the goal… Continue reading