Bengt O Björklund

Rookie (15-08-1949 / Stockholm, Sweden)

Bengt O Björklund Poems

1. To Sam And Dave 2/27/2009
2. Why Worry? 3/18/2009
3. Never Before 3/19/2009
4. And Yet 3/19/2009
5. Strawberry Dreams 4/4/2009
6. It Is Not Human 4/4/2009
7. I Love You 4/17/2009
8. Another Year 4/17/2009
9. Final Call 4/21/2009
10. Good Night 4/21/2009
11. The Haste Of Days 4/24/2009
12. Winter 4/24/2009
13. Farewell 4/24/2009
14. The Walking, Talking Now 5/15/2009
15. Serendipity 5/15/2009
16. Why Forego All Masters 5/15/2009
17. At Midnight 5/15/2009
18. What We Are 5/15/2009
19. Night Abducts 5/22/2009
20. Winter Breaks 5/22/2009
21. Death Is More Than A Word 5/24/2009
22. Snow (Haiku) 5/24/2009
23. I 5/24/2009
24. Old Istanbul (Biographical) 5/24/2009
25. The Sea 5/24/2009
26. To The Radio 5/24/2009
27. The Beat Goes On 5/24/2009
28. Scrawny Girls 5/24/2009
29. The End Of An Imperfect Day 5/26/2009
30. Youthful Folly 5/26/2009
31. At Midnight 2 5/26/2009
32. Vila Parque Da Cidade 5/26/2009
33. Celso 5/26/2009
34. Mara 5/26/2009
35. Waiting 5/17/2009
36. There Is No God 5/17/2009
37. Images 5/17/2009
38. War 5/17/2009
39. Looking At Fashion 5/18/2009
40. In Between 5/18/2009

Comments about Bengt O Björklund

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of Bengt O Björklund

Dylan Thomas Was Here

Part one

There will never be a moment
like this summer’s day I am.
Chased, as I am, by blue skies,
I continue to be awake
in my own lethargic dreams.

This promise of echoes
that reverberates
with every blithe or otherly glance
here where I am
is naught but a recreation.




Part two

Old Manhattan sleet
and the first time meetings
in bars on 3: d Avenue
whispers back to me
on a hot July curved to silence.

There are so many eyes that testify
to the inevitable expiration
of inner beauty and love,
fuelled...

Read the full of Dylan Thomas Was Here

Never Before

Never before did cold grass sway
their icy necks indifferent
to the passing of seasons
grim and mongering tale,
too short to be told more than once
on a long unsteady night.

The dying drums of war,
that bleed in all beckoning days,

[Report Error]