Day: November 7, 2019

Portal in the Wall [poem]

Posted on Updated on

Peter Tillberg

They wanted me to be an arms manufacturer
from when I was just small and made of dough
which everybody thought they had a right
to mould into the image of their choice
(regardless of whatever I may voice or protest
with my body, mind or soul). “You don’t compete Read the rest of this entry »

A Hint of Fall [poem]

Posted on

74882961_3014607135236103_4245494448185671680_o

the nights are drawing in
as cyclamen, galanthus
bow down to the earth in seed
across my inner landscape’s
multichromely tinted vale
and every bleed i’ve ever bled
conceals and uncongeals itself
from autumn’s golden smirk
and i’m undone Read the rest of this entry »

A Exercise in Time [poem]

Posted on

Melting Clock

We fence so much within our puny minds
and think we’re free. All of us are guilty
of this crime. Both you and me.
So let’s experiment — see where things will go.
Unless we try things out for real
we’ll  n e v e r   t r u l y  know. Read the rest of this entry »

Sonnet to the Face of Deep

Posted on

6017d4b4585870f20b0e418239fb0284

I see a face and think “Is this a mask?
Has clarity been stolen from those eyes?”
These are the questions which I’m forced to ask
when I’m confronted with a poor disguise. Read the rest of this entry »

Passion of the Poet [poem]

Posted on

218214-24112017-1511492053-1612707746-bloom

Forgive me for my passion (but only if you can).
It seems the words which tumble from my lips
are not much heard from mouthings of a man.
Expressions vivid, steeped in deepsome song
and poetised with all delights for which I long.
That may not dovetail with one’s preconceived Read the rest of this entry »

Sonnet for Borrowed Time

Posted on Updated on

trust (1)

Like Autumn leaves, we live on borrowed time
before the parched and brownly breeze-dried branch
becomes a lifeless dusty paradigm,
when our molecules dissolve [avalanche]. Read the rest of this entry »

Embrace the Thorns! [poem]

Posted on Updated on

995796278

Never mind the thorns or prickles!
To hell with every spine or thistle!
Screw the bristles, points or prongs,
needles, barbs and aculeus, spicules!
Nothing never ever comes for free
and least of all in matters which,
collectively, are known as “love”
to people such as you and me. Read the rest of this entry »