Göran Gustafsson

Göran Gustafsson Poems

When the end of road is near, when time is moving fast
When everything is added up, and the last of dies is cast
From the silent garden of despair, my voice is crying out
Take this cup away from me and release my mind from doubt

In the early morning darkness
When time was yet to come
In frozen air suspended
The word was fast a-sleep

I am hanging in the balance
At a place we call mankind
Between the wisdom of the heart
And the reason of my mind

I see the beauty in the mornin' dew
I see the beauty in the rainbow's hue
And in the colours of the deep blue skies
I see the beauty of my true love’s eyes

I was given this book a long time ago
Reading it now has become rather slow
Behind every beautiful word of gold
I can sense some kind of cold

When no one is here my soul to keep
A dream comes to me where I sleep
In the darkness I hear the angels weep
And my mind is flying low and deep

Tune up your strings in harmony
Strike up your song of joy
And learn the music, let it sound
Stand up and sing your song

Dressed in garments filthy and cheap
Covered with masks in layers deep
I tear and peel them one by one
Until I finally see the sun

You walk down the street in your fancy suit
Diamonds and gold to show off your fruit
When riches and fame are your primary goals
You give up your soul at the crossing roads

You came here empty minded
In this weary world one day
To shape a soul out of body
As the potter moulds out of clay

I sailed my ship to my true love's harbour
I sang my songs 'neath her windowsill
She gave me bread and her blood-red wine
She promised my deepest need to fulfill

The journey's been long, not an easy game
You win and you lose, but there's no one to blame
The sailor turns his face to the dark and empty skies
Waiting for the moon and the stars to rise

The sails are all set and the anchors aweigh
On the brig Blue Bird, the Blue Bird of Hull
She leaves with a HO and she sails with a HEY
And a vicious cry from a laughing gull

When life has turned into briers and thorns
A wasteland without the songs of sparrows
Men will rise and bend their bows
And the wind will sing with the sound of arrows

'Twas a lovely night in gay Paree
The stagelight was beating on him and me
He took my heart and spoke so well
And told me things no one else could tell

Come! listen you people of all time and kind
I put down in writing what is on my mind
I give you my joy my grief and despair
But just don't know why I should even care

When the end of road is near
When time is moving fast
When everything is added up
And the last of dice is cast

When you are sad and lonely
And death holds up the end
When everything is broken
And nothing seems to mend

Went to the station to catch the train
Patiently waiting in the pouring rain
Took neither my bag nor my dog today
Couldn't hope for a further delay

You praise the Lord for the morning light
You praise him for shelter of the night
You praise the Lord for our daily bread
You praise him for our lifes ahead

Göran Gustafsson Biography

Everything written by Göran Gustafsson is © Copyright by Law, and may thus not be used anywhere, without a written permission from the author.)

The Best Poem Of Göran Gustafsson

Every Mustard Grain

When the end of road is near, when time is moving fast
When everything is added up, and the last of dies is cast
From the silent garden of despair, my voice is crying out
Take this cup away from me and release my mind from doubt

I gaze into the shadows, in the corners of my soul
Where ancient gods and devils roam and acting out their role
Then a vision bright and clear; I can see His Kingdom reign
In every newborn child and in every mustard grain

When greed of gain and slothful ways cause pain and bitter strife
Trouble to my house it is, and thorns grows 'round my life
In the moment of oblivion I turn to the wind and rain
With a last and final call, for Him to ease my pain

I've been to the mountains high and down into the deepest well
I've seen the light from heaven, and its shadow cast in hell
Then I came to understand, this life is but a chain
Through every newborn child, through every mustard grain

I was taken to the desert, to the howling wilderness
To face temptation's evil joy and play a game of chess
And many pawns they died that day to save the Kingdom's reign
And many seeds of tears were sown in desert sand like rain

I stand upon the wisdom of those who've gone before
My hope is for the children, playing on the shore
The life I've lived is not in vain, it's like a livin' chain
Through every newborn child, through every mustard grain

Copyright © 2008 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved

This poem is inspired by and a reconceptualization of Bob Dylans song 'Every Grain Of Sand'.

The image and theme of the mustard grain is of course taken from the Holy Bible:
'The kingdom of heaven is like unto a grain of mustard seed (...) the least of all seeds (...) but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs. (KJB Matt 13: 31-32)

Göran Gustafsson Comments

Bryan Riley 03 May 2010

I read your poem 'I Sailed my Ship'. It is beautifully written. I love the imagery, about walking on the ocean, and the diamond streets. Just beautiful

0 1 Reply
Kimberly Mccreary 06 August 2009

Thank you for your comment. I read two of your poems and liked them very much.

1 0 Reply

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