It’s kind of funny.
If you stop and just think.
Why do boys equal blue?
And girls equal pink?
Why did we decide so?
Such as odd thing to say.
That blue makes a tomboy.
While pink makes you gay.
Category: Poetry
Birthday
Perhaps your childhood ends.
I mean truly, really Ends.
With a large, capital E.
When you no longer celebrate
The day you were born.
But instead, you flee.
Do You Want To Live Forever?
Do you want to live forever?
If it was a choice that all could make?
Would you soon grow bored with life?
Or would you choose to Death forsake?
Me? I’d choose life among the living.
For I believe there’s something more.
Another dream, another trip to take,
Another song to sing on the dance floor.
Haiku: Snow
Do you ever wish?
To see the snow fall softly?
And forget all else?
Fiction
There is no bad fiction. Just preferences. A literary taste, if you please.
Horrors, or thrillers. An exciting romance. It’s really about the eyes that sees.
Are you into science fiction or fantasy? I have no doubt there will be a book for you.
And if you prefer the old classics, I can assure you: The options are not few.
It’s wonderful really, if you stop and think. At least I believe so, don’t you agree?
For in reality every book is really as different, as wonderful unique, as you and me.
A Bite
A snake.
His plead.
An apple.
Bittersweet.
A boy.
Apple shared.
God’s anger.
Unfair.
Unfair.
A new word.
The bite.
Why I know.
Punished.
Pain to be.
I took a bite.
So did he.
Time Wasted
Dishes.
Laundry.
School.
Work.
Enough.
Before.
I go.
Berserk.
Waste.
Time.
Lovely.
Right?
Time.
Enjoyed.
A breath.
Delight.
Monday, My Sunday
She said her name was Monday.
Dull.
Drab.
Dreary.
She wished she was a Friday.
Dazzling.
Dauntless.
Daring.
She wanted to be dangerous.
Bad.
Brash.
Bloody.
I call my darling Sunday.
Lazy.
Laughing.
Lovely.
Lioness
She was most often like a rabbit,
Scared and shivering in fear.
Until her kit was threatened before her,
And a lioness would appear.
Constellation
They’re only dots in the sky,
We’ve turned into constellations.
They’ve become beautiful stories,
Through our vast imagination.
Maria Sjöstrand 