Fjordscene Poetry

I wake in the middle of the night with outstretched arms reaching for that which slips out of my grasp – the world, life, sanity, a future worth living in, dreams worth dreaming that actually stand a chance of coming […]

I trust in the poet to be able to phrase all that I wish to say and I trust her to do it – I trust her to scatter the fog with her words, to comfort and heal all the […]

I wonder if I am the only thinking person in the world – or if perhaps the world itself consists of nothing but a thought – I wonder if these people passing me with endless words are capable of thoughts […]

I think perhaps I have overstepped the bounds drawn around me by the world to which I’m bound. There is a time when my imagination cannot reach any further – a horizon that it cannot breach. There are questions that […]

I have no roots; I am an epiphyte dangling in the air. My thoughts are rootless, prancing here and there and everywhere. I have no wings so I can’t learn to fly – my restless thoughts keeps telling me to […]

Poetry is contrary to nature in the sense that it is meant (or at least by its poet dreamt) to stand apart and last when all else follows its natural cause and ends up becoming the past. But what is […]

There… there… no, I failed to grasp it again but I was close this time… That word just keeps eluding me… I have it… I have had it… I had it… It’s gone… I speak the things out loud inside […]

I had a vision when I first browsed the web: An open world where information was available to everyone – information to improve the world. Knowledge shared and built upon. Improved, passed on. I thought; finally a medium for everyone. […]

I have been torn between the world and writing – writing is demanding, leaving little to the world once it has been written. But the world, moreover, continues to enrage, disappoint and sadden me, so I have surrendered at least […]

Ideally, I wanted these poems to present themselves as a continuous flow. I think I have mostly succeeded in that regard. This is not a collection that is lucky enough to deal with just one theme, and for that reason […]

How concentrate when you are here? It’s difficult for sure. And when you’ve left, still more than while you still were here. How can I write a poem with an exquisite poem by my side; what could I say that […]

1. Does the cell think of the purpose of its existence as it wriggles its way around between its many brethren? Does it ever consider how small and fragile it is, or how and why it exists? No. It just […]

I carry bricks and tile with me in my pockets whenever I go to the city. At least it seems so. Every time I return to my hometown I find an old house torn down – every time I go […]

The centrifugal force of words washed over her, swirled around her, made her dizzy. ‘But that’s what shrinks do’, she figured, watching with increasing numbness as the man’s lips kept moving, making words that increasingly seemed to dissipate and dissolve […]

Når jeg lukker øjnene ser jeg bølgerne rejse sig; sivende der sukkende bøjer sig; det flakkende lys fra mit hjemlands vægelsindede sol – nej, lyset fra fakler båret gennem byen – byen er skrumpet; en opløst sukkerknald – husene står […]

Ordene vokser i munden på mig – store, klæbrige dråber parat til at briste og stænke deres indhold ud over andre – Hvis jeg ikke passer på bliver de større end jeg så jeg skjules i deres skygge – synk! […]

Jeg følger i deres kølvand – søger deres hemmeligheder mens jeg skjuler mine egne. De lys derude kalder – de kalder gennem tågen – deres flakken afspejler mit flyvske, urolige hjertes ubestandige slag. Jeg føler at de taler til mig. […]

Min hjerne styrter af sted – den er langt foran nu, resten af mig kæmper for at følge med – fejler. Det er svært at navigere når ens syn befinder sig så langt foran ens krop. Jeg snubler, jeg falder […]

Hver lyd der udstødes trækker energi med sig – min mund udtaler min dødsdom. Til sidst suges følelserne ud gennem porerne så jeg sidder tilbage tom, summende af andres nærvær indtil processen vender og mine porer suger deres fremmede essens […]

Jeg står i vand til over hovedet – men det er der ikke længere (vandet) – omkring mig breder sig en flade af grønt, bølgende græs – der er ingen kontrast til det bølgende vand – kun diget adskiller – […]