Life’s origami, or: The thing that can hold the most beautiful creases Reality, master of ritual and holding a crumpled grudge… At the end of each day, reality fits inside my tight fisted soul like a very scrunched up sheet of paper. Once fed this angry ball of life, my soul, protector of all stories,Continue reading “Life’s origami, by Britta Benson”
This feels like a very suitable poem for a Friday. A good way to send you into the weekend… Here goes: If I can dream it If I can dream it, it’s already real in my soul. If it’s already real in my soul, then who am I to argue? Surely, my heart, my feet,Continue reading “If I can dream it, by Britta Benson”
I’m working on a few projects simultaneously right now. In all likelihood, none of them will work, but I don’t mind. I enjoy experimenting. No pressure. Here’s a poem that has been in my notebook for a while. Today, I finally found an ending for it. Remember past the dream Remember past the dream, pastContinue reading “Remember past the dream, by Britta Benson”
Dreams Dreams for beginners, special effects, glitter, a Las-Vegas-style late show, bigger and bolder. Advanced dreamers scale down the plot to the bone: Seeing my dad after years of Covid-19, sitting together on the sofa, watching football on TV, shouting at the ref in my mother’s tongue. My dream come true.
One short poem today, almost a haiku and I know I could have changed it and turned it into one, but I didn’t want to. Writing a haiku is an option, not forced upon me. Enjoy! Dreams Specks, blots, rabbit hole dots, star rainbows from dusk to dawn, aspic adventures melt.