This new poem is contemplating the history of humanity and how we came to be – and for that reason it has been excluded from my up-coming poetry collection “Light Requires Darkness” as it simply didn’t align with the rest of the content. It is way too philosophical and not nearly personal enough, one might say.
However, despite that, I’d hate letting it go to waste, as I really wrung my brain attempting to write it in the first place. So, here you have it (and the collection will start to follow one poem at a time in the near future).
Continue reading New Poem: “Present Past”
This isn’t actually a new poem – it is a new version of an older poem that I wasn’t good enough at the time to make rhyme properly.
All the same, I won’t add a long description as the poem is fairly self-explanatory. You know how, when you’re in love with someone and want to let them know but is crippled by anxiety and fear of rejection? Yeah, basically that.
The night creeps up above us,
envelops us and shows us
light is unnecessary
The evening winds caress us
and breathes their lightness on us
slowly in disarray
We sit and night falls on us
its darkness all around us
we sit here quietly
And had we hoped between us
that night would ease and help us
more so than did the day
We should have felt within us
a certain sense of loss
at not knowing what to say
you are the reason for my mood;
you, who once cut through my solitude
and ought again to come and cut through –
but do it just in dreams – oh, you –
I dreamt of you again last night,
dreamt that you disappeared or died;
I saw a lightning strike close by,
skywards I screamed out: “Why? Oh, why?”
Upon awaking, all I knew
was that in dreams I lose you too;
you can’t be kept – I shouldn’t try;
there is no trap from which you wouldn’t fly
But when I see your smile, asleep,
arise from a memory buried deep
nothing can still my overwhelming solitude
and I scream within the dream:
“Why, Nykteri? Why you?”
I have it
and I have it not
the will to live,
to laugh and love –
it comes and goes,
it ebbs and flows,
but how to give
and how to trust?
I think I can
and think it not,
I would believe
but that is hard –
a life is short,
a trauma long.
How to progress
before I’m gone?
I saw her in a vision –
an image of perfection –
I know her to be real
yet unreal there.
She didn’t deign to look
and I am not surprised –
as always she despairs
in her own sphere.
She could have gone with me –
I could have let her be –
anything could happen
in the night that can’t distinguish –
but I am left here now –
love has burst out from me –
it ran out like a river –
it flushed all goodness out
in all its passion.
All it left was dregs;
the heavy, dark remains
that I am left to tend
here all alone.
Is there something left to say?
Is there some good in store for humanity?
I wonder, as I always did;
I worry, as I should!
The world is always changing.
And so are we as well.
But I was always told that things
would turn out for the better?
Now, I need to see it happen
in order order to believe in anything at all!
I absolutely hate this vitriol –
I hate this cruel division.
Aren’t we all people?
Aren’t we all human?
Can we not stand together?
Can we not agree?
We share the world
with one another –
is that so hard to see?
I draw life
and life draws me too
but life does it better
than I ever do.
I am heavier than other people
as if someone tied weights around my ankles –
I think heavy thoughts that I cannot lighten.
I live my life as if I am constantly
being driven into a lake
and dragged down by my own weight.
She was sitting on my desk – smiling shyly and looking down at her feet – dressed in nothing but a veil –
But that was a dream.
I was walking through a field of ripe corn cobs – I picked a few and roasted them with butter over a bonfire –
But that was a dream.
She came walking through the field – she smiled at me – her hair and skin were a lovely warm bronze like the earth –
But that was a dream.
Her hand slipped from mine as she danced out onto the ice as graceful as a figure skater – but without the skates –
But that was a dream.
A lightning struck close by – and she disappeared – and I looked for traces of her everywhere and never found a thing –
Not a dream – just a metaphor.
I would rather dream again.
Crack open the sun
just to see what’s inside –
perhaps a warm and cozy spot
wherein to hide?
Fly straight up and out
of the atmosphere –
perhaps it is quiet
and peaceful out there?
Take out my brain
and fling it away –
it burdens me more
day by day.
Watching tableaus change before my eyes –
people moving, scenarios altered,
everything now happens in a sort of vacuum –
all outside of me and I outside of all.
All outside of me and I outside of all
I float in the stillwater of myself
observing storms that rage around me –
have done so for years beyond recall.
And I am young by human standards
but my heart feels old.
I observe the heat of others
and it leaves me cold.
I waited for the snowfall
but finally when it came
the snowflakes melted in the air
before they reached the ground
and all remained the same.
I waited for the sunshine
but when I finally caught a beam
it had no strength against the chill
so seeing how it came and went
might just as well have been a dream.
I look ahead, now void of hope
and wonder: What might stay
if anything at all.
Why bother grasping anything:
It comes and goes away.
The sunset seems to burn the sea –
It flares up like your smile –
A moment of serenity –
Then gone –
And when I’m gone
you also won’t remember me –
You might as well hold my shadow –
it clings on tightly to you –
it will not let you go
unless embraced and wooed.
You might as well have my eyes –
they only see you anyway –
they focus only on your way
so take them – (they are liars).
Where are my sunrises?
Where are my sunsets?
Where are my days?
An endless night
has taken their place.
Where are all my colours?
Where is all the music?
Colourless it fades.
A blurry image of a world
now passes by – abates.
Where are my sunsets?
There’s no sun to make them.
A distant globe in the sky
whose cold light retreats
is all that shines up high.
Where did you go?
Why did you go?
What of my sunsets?
How will I ever know?
You see what’s in me hidden,
you know what I will say.
You know I’m with you smitten,
and yet you stay away.
I do not need your arguments
and reason has no power;
if you don’t share my sentiments
tell me! this very hour.
But nothing – nothing’s spoken
and such it must remain –
my feelings are unbroken;
in silence they remain.
I’ve loved you since my childhood.
I’ll love you till I die.
Your immaterial material being
has made me laugh and cry.
I know each nook and corner,
I’ve walked each street and path.
And though I’ve left in person
I left behind one half.
I catch you in my thoughts
quite often unawares,
no matter where I am
I’m caught up in your snares.
I miss your tree-lined streets,
I miss your chimney smoke,
I miss the fog horns to whose sound
I oftentimes awoke.
I miss your tough, hard people
with their surprising warmth;
made me forget all want.
I miss you; yes, I miss you
wherever else I go;
You have me, I am yours
no matter where I go.
For I cannot forget you!
there’s no home left for me –
I couldn’t stay with you
and no place else appeals to me.
I’m lonely all the time now
though not for want of folks –
for want of you, my hometown,
and your sweet, soothing voice:
The voice of sea gulls screaming,
of factories and fog horns –
the rhythm of my heartbeat;
the voice that calls me home.
Arising from the ground, outspreading careless waxy limbs
that’s merely periscopes that on its hidden body climbs,
unfolding innovative shapes that plants may envy but never copy,
unrolling laces or upbearing knots or plates, swift, carelessly,
with white eyes eying us out of its reddish head
from tree roots (where it feeds on those already dead),
unworldly and unwieldly, standing on its own
and though so carefully with all of nature interwoven;
fungi, you resourceful old recycler and renewer
you scare me, not because of fear of poison (though that too
might be sufficient reason to fear most of you)
but more than anything because I know some day
I’ll have to meet you in a most intimate way –
in death you’ll find me since you live by feeding on decay
You fired me with love, set me ablaze
In a slow-burning, everlasting craze
And then you fled, forgetting in your speed
to give me remedies against the heat
And I burned up, yet kept on burning
overcome with such deep yearning
for your eyes, your smile, your… all!
How could I so deeply fall?
Now consumed with fire, I can tell:
This love is the only existing Hell!
The sunlight is lost for a moment –
then suddenly it frames
and fences in a wandering cloud
which has its mind on the journey bent
somewhere between brevity and perpetuality
there is an empty space
where our shared memories rest together –
never lost and never severed –
somewhere between change and constancy,
a state beyond expression
and beyond the limits of thinking,
there is a pocket full of knowledge –
and between present and past
somewhere in-between all the known and un-known
there is a place
where we know each other still, and always have
There seems to be
strict expectations to a poet’s production
I’ve often been told
that my poems
are useless to reform society
Why should I write
to reform society?
There’s tons of other people who
wants to do –
so why me too?
Why can’t you just let poetry
untarnished by political intrigues
and hollow statements
I have no wish to reform society
through such statements
aimed at a few people
with even fewer thoughts
I will much rather reform
each heart that has been hurt,
each eye that has seen horror
and turn tears of agony
to tears of joy
by removing layer by layer
the shadowy veil over people’s eyes
The veil that has been placed
partly by politics
And allowing them to reform themselves
at their own pace, in their own Way –
without signing them
each reader a poem
So that, when afterwards the ballots
have been forgotten
on a beautiful summer’s day
where happy, healthy people
have retired to the beach –
splashing in the water,
building castles in the sand,
all real –
the politicians will look at one another
and out through the toned glass sheets,
and none of them will understand
that it wasn’t
of its own making
A raindrop on a petal
made me jump,
and then I stumbled
I have not landed yet
and perhaps never will –
where will I end up?
I do not know it still
Large blocks of rough-hewn rock
adorned with conifers and firs
which in the cooling breeze stirs;
one after the other, each solid block
in many tones of grey and pale brown shines
in tribute each to their adorning pines
Sunshine has struck
for short a while, then the cloudcover again
dims the bright light, and warns of coming rain
We’re midway to our destination
that’s Olso, from Copenhagen,
and driving somewhere midthrough Sweden
where we pass along
endless roads through forests of pine-trees
where trees and rocks and trees is all the eye sees
All sense of distance,
time and place seems to have left me,
I can no longer single out a singular tree
and as the clouds exchange
now with us plain the blessings of the rain,
I gently drift into a dreamless sleep again
Many months have I been haunted
in my sleep
by names and faces, unknown places
and I weep
upon waking from each nightmare, aching
to sink into a sleep, a dreamless void so deep
that even the night-time stars expire
I go to bed to shut my head
down for a while,
to rest my body and my mind together,
but visions wild
tear at my sanity, and when I wake painstakingly
I feel more tired
than I did the night before, before I went to bed;
if someone hears this prayer, a dreamless night’s my sole desire
Just one night freed from the fight
in my own head,
to sink into a thoughtless void
as deep and dark as dead
and wake refreshed next morning, feeling blessed
from restful sleep;
it’s all that’s left for me to long for –
a dreamless sleep (an off-switch), just a deep, sound sleep
my dreamy mindless numbness;
display affections without cue
and touch me with a soft caress
but always out of tune
your strings are struck and softly
play me your tune of solitude
although surrounded by so many
people living in numbness too
my dreamy milky nothingness;
who dance to a note out of tune
unwilling to stand up and face
a world so realistically tuned
ideas and thoughts
about a world,
an unreal world
of unreal beings,
your mind unfurls
a tale of creation –
in every one,
you try to see
the scope of vision,
but can’t fathom
like mist the day
your mind’s betrayal
of your ideals
so long ago I can’t remember
I made a deal with Mimer, the wise,
I did so willingly, not knowing
that everything comes at a price.
my eye so precious to me
floated away, disappeared in the well –
oh, if I could go back
what different stories might there be to tell?
I drank the water cold and clear,
satisfied with my reward, this knowledge
that I had paid such a price to receive.
But today I wish that I could just forget.
I know today what I could not
have known back then, blinded by pride:
That he who walks the fastest
doesn’t take the longest stride.
oh, to desire knowledge
will never make you content,
for the more you understand
the more you will desire to comprehend.
There was a girl
with name unknown,
her face was blank
and blue her gown
From where she came
and she disappeared
like the morning dew
Vanished at the sight of sun
its warmth could not
reach to her heart,
the doors were shut
And all she left behind
was angels in the snow,
melting in the spring
at sun’s relentless glow