Tag: Writer

Shared Moments 

I just borrowed the sun
that shines in your eyes,
to dry my lonely tears

I walked by the path  
you have in your heart,
to share my moments

I sailed by the wind
in your broken mind,
to lighten my anchor 

I caught the sky
you sent down to me,
to open my soul

© Björn Blomqvist 2022-01-16

Speakable…

On a bench, a painted word
drops down on a leaf
By a leaf, a silent touch
lifts an eye above the head
Inside a head, a good thought
spinning to slips aside
One step aside, a bad
feeling bouncing in the chest
Deep inside the chest, a new word
waiting to paint a heart
Stuck in a heart, a painted letter
still rest on a bench

©️ Björn Blomqvist 2022-01-09

In Bloom…

🥀 The Flower as I 🌻

From a crack in the street, grew a flower with the aim of eternal life.
The asphalt that covered playgrounds and cycling paths was surrounded by concrete houses.
He grew up beyond all the fine flower arrangements and the road was never straight.
The road that led him forward was crooked and lined with obstacles and resistance.
The acquisition, which was governed by inheritance and obligation, was the predetermined course.
Nothing went as wrong as the credible thesis – a theory failed.
With death as a close visitor, the life got a second chance.
From an asphalt flower to a victim after a deadly journey under a vehicle, the wounded plant rised against all odds.
From a course change to discourse in the academic flower box, new seeds where spread.
Nectar that has always been there was suffocated due to uncertainty.
The survivor of the working-class society became a conqueror of dual bachelor’s degree.
The conquest is unique in the collection of familiar flowers.
Dramatized acting on stage became plant nutrient to the root.
The strength of memorizing the words in the script, became the flower’s power on the stage.
Predisposition for artistic analysis is the strength that strengthens the stem.
Water and sun are mixed with culture that breathes over the leaves.
The pot of poetry will be filled to the brim with hungry poems to feed a starving poet.
Words and emotions are fed with stanzas and verses from the middle of the soul
The damaged flower survived a serious car accident (this day 41 years ago) and he is still in bloom.

© Blomman 2022-01-07

A Path to Something New?

I have been there before, near an open end when all choices are hidden in the trees. I followed the same path firmly in the opposite direction, when a line was drawn under the ground of eternity. Beyond the light, far from all coincidences, a wisdom grew deep beneath the heap. I dug a ditch to finding a hope instead of plow forward in the right direction. In the end, I was on the same spot to look up, to stare down and be dazzled by the light in the front – out of conclusions.

© Björn Blomqvist 2022-01-01

Window Mode

Since 2012, I have written 299 poems, and this will be the 300th. What’s out there and what’s in here, is an interpretation of my poetry that has constantly moved from my inner feelings to beautiful and enlightening things I have seen outside and around me. It has and will perhaps be a journey between the light and the darkness. But in between there’s a force so strong as in the best moments can move the mountains, who are a part of the roller coaster in my life.

So this is my 300th poem

A tiny light, surrounds
by the darkness, I feel

Crushed life that sounds
when emotions are real

Rays of the sun, walks
in a motion, so bright
Color of sensitive talks
paints my hope, by night

A feeling of calm, plays
alone when you can’t see
An inner fight in days,
a personal war for me

All bricks in the wall, sings
a capella for deaf ears
Dare to look, touch things,
doing it, without fears

© Björn Blomqvist 2021-12-20

Between Grief and Grapes

Barrels full of tears in a sad patrol, rest to store fears in rows, surrounded by it’s enemies in oak uniforms. Red wine in the color of spilled blood, survived the battle between the grief and the grapes. In frontline with shields, thin like the shells of the grapes, a bloodline is the line behind the enemy. The infantry still standing on the feet of the wine glasses, ready to fight for what they crying for. Deep down in a wine cellar, far from the sunlight, lies a grief, alone and missed by the survivors who refusing to leave them for the next harvest.

© Björn Blomqvist 2021-12-15

Along the Road

Step by step on a forgiving road,  

a walk alone

Heavy rain falls from the fog, 

a day to remember 

Going back for a moment, 

a memory on a stone 

Lights in the night on a shining mind, 

a day in november 

Tone after tone of a surviving song,  

a mystery voice 

Heavy clouds push me down, 

an emotional fight

Climbs up through the haze, 

haven’t a choice

Strength in the body on a rising soul, 

to catch what’s right 

© Björn Blomqvist 2021-12-12