Life, as it appears E-Book

Leif Robertsson

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 18

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Life, as it appears is a collection of poems about just that; how life is affected by the world around us and everything that is constantly going on there. The tone of Life, as it appears seems quite dark, which can easily be explained by how the world around us has changed during the time the poems have been written. War, rearmament, warmongering and a development towards more extreme politics, increased inequality and fewer and fewer democratically governed countries. However, I have made an effort to try to let hope come out in some poems. So do not fear the dark, there is hope for a better world. Quoting Arundhati Roy, Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.

Leseprobe

In the gloomy forest

lives a sick god.

In the dark forest the flowers are so pale

and the birds so shy.

Why is the wind full of warning whispers

and the road dark with gloomy forebodings?

In the shadow lies the sick god

and dreams evil dreams...

Edit Södergran

(translated from Swedish with Google translate)

*

Trying to achieve

some wisdom

for my mind's comfort,

soft as the moon’s reflection

over darkening waters.

Among the market traders,

I seek the fruit from

the tree of knowledge.

Sourly sweet, red and true.

With increasing amount

of trickling saliva,

I sing the praise of learning.

Knowledge burdens

only those who lack it.

*

The invitation

makes me nervous.

Eel eating parties

aren't my thing.

Trying to fit in.

It's not going so well.

I would have rather

stayed by the water.

A rowboat split

the water surface

with silent oars.

The pike-perch

glared sourly

in the reeds

and youngsters

sat on the shore

shyly flirting.

I didn't get to see

all of this.

My eyes were

completely empty.

No tears.

Just the empty

flower of longing.

*

Just heard from

infinity.

Laika is no longer alive.

Maybe I should take a

course or do

some time travels.

Is it so or so?

So much misery.

So much destruction.

So much to do.

A gift from nowhere.

Neither paper nor strings.

The song sounds

like something

from the abandoned.

Discord from broken

devices.

I no longer remember

the lunar lander.

*

Traces a longing.

A longing

long longed for.

For generations.

Maybe one day

a moment will

become real.

Surprising in an

astonished dawn.

A hint, a glimpse in

a sparkling suit.

All the senses

make themselves

known.

Feel, see and hear

everything in a

constant storm

and how it tastes

and smells of

earth and fire.

As we long

*

Selected thoughts,

carefully carved

out of consciousness,

age in old

stained envelopes.

As.

The echo of silence

was the most precious

thing we inherited.

Between our fingers

small pieces of our lives

drip while images

of our most secret

thoughts

are gathered in

small baskets

of the finest filigree.

Well preserved

out of reach

for the future.

*

Over the instrument's

black ebony,

a forsaken

sparrow chirps,