Fjordscene Poetry

Spindly strings of light emittedfrom a lit computer screen –nimble fingers hover overkeys that seem to twist and turn – How put into words a worldso twisted and original –how express with merely wordsthe strangeness of it all – Dust […]

are we to communicate in a forum fit for you it is only fair if it happens in a style fit for me – fancy writing poetry? * to someone who suggested we should start communicating on Facebook Messenger instead of […]

writing madly, desperately, cloaked in invisibility – i wanted you to listen, but you barely hear – goodbye for now, you’ve sucked all strength out through my skin, i’m barely here – i wish i could just disappear – it […]

under radar words die – words live on paper if thoughts linger long enough – they rarely ever do –

unsuited for the digital age – I don’t want to brand myself – i am human, i am no product – it does not come naturally. I am a poet not a screamer – I hate having photos taken – […]

journal, mind bursting with ideas – ripe grapes of thoughts not sweet but potent – words fill the pages as wont – juices flowing from their burst encasement any way they want – thoughts still growing –

i am a pile of garbage through which some poems show – one day the pile dissolves leaving words alone behind to grow –

to you – to who? to me? maybe. why write? why not? it’s all I’ve got –

  This collection willed itself into being at a time when I was planning an entirely different writing project, and stayed strong throughout the changes and/or demise of that and other projects I was doing on the side. I never planned […]

What is the greatest source of inspiration? What can really make you contemplate and urge you forward to complete something? Well, if you’re happy and content you might never see the point of changing anything, right? You cannot know the […]

Someone once said to me: “Not all of your poems have to be good. After all, when you need to fill out a whole book, some of the material will inevitably just have to be fillers.” Just no. A chance […]

The question never ceases to surprise me – the only one most men have wits to think of when they hear that I write poetry. “So, you write love poems, don’t you?” over and over – always the same – […]

I would write, I would write but I am tired and the words don’t come – perhaps tomorrow or any other day but today. But if I say that every day I may never get to write again and that […]

The words don’t come when I want them to – they drift through my mind there, then gone. I can’t remember them as soon as they’ve moved on – a spark of inspiration there, then gone. Then one drifts slowly […]

I see you not, reader, but I speak to you, believe in your existence through and through – I entrust my child to you, the offspring of my mind and countless idle thoughts of any, every kind – I hope […]

One could write of the future. It’s just so hard. Because you then accept in advance that everything you write has a built-in expiration date. Since the date of your choice one day will no longer be in the future. […]

How about writing about something I know? Something I care about? How about not caring in advance whether the reader understands or wants to understand or whether or not it even matters? How about settling for the idea that everything […]

I want to write something beautiful. I want to write something meaningful. And perhaps that’s the entire problem. Perhaps that’s why I never get to write nearly as much as I think about writing. Reality is just not that pretty. […]

I want to believe that I could create something that could last beyond my years. I know however how unlikely that would be. I “go there” every once in awhile and the streets remain the same but the houses change […]

My biggest wish for the future is that everybody would stop pretending that they are perfect when they all know they’re not. My perfect scenario being universal honesty about our faults and fears and vulnerability. But since everybody else seem […]