“It’s elementary, my dear Watson,” he says with a grin,
Though elementary it most certainly is not.
But I suppose that’s just how Sherlock Holmes, he is;
Brilliant beyond measure, and equally smug.
Tag: Poetry
Minute
They say that a minute
In a lover’s embrace
Passes like a second
A heartbeat might outpace.
They say that a minute,
With your finger to the flame
Is like days and hours passing
As you’re only feeling pain.
I say now that a minute
Feels like many years combined
When on the phone you hear a voice
Saying you’re next in line.
Home and Away
If I’m home in my town, I’ll grow bored,
Seeing the same bloody thing every day.
So I go out in the world and I see what it offers,
And for a while, all is okay.
Then I’ll miss the things, the friends, I left behind,
And I’ll fly home again with the next plane.
And there I’ll be, so very content,
Till I grow bored and restless again.
A Haiku: Death
I look at bare trees.
I hope death is like winter.
A rest; not an end.
Sleepless
Sleepless.
Thinking about every bad thing you’ve done.
Every hurtful word you’ve said.
Sleepless.
Means that you’re not heartless.
The Lemon Tree
When I was nothing more than just a child,
The Lemon Tree was happy notes and dance.
I would skip around with the melody in mind,
A song purely delightful, at first glance.
But as I became older and the lyrics became clear,
I realised how tragic they were.
Bitterness and tears, caught in song,
And I don’t know which version I prefer.
But then again, sad as it is,
Perhaps it’s part of growing up.
When The Lemon Tree stops being sounds,
And becomes a story of two lovers’ break-up.
Soul Mates
The first time I heard about The One,
I got terrified!
Imagine just one perfect person,
To stand by your side.
Among seven billion people,
I mean that’s just insane!
So I believe that there are many,
Whose love would remain.
Through better or worse,
Through all that I might feel,
It’s about potential and hard work,
For soul mates… are not real.
No Post Poem
When you realise it’s Friday,
And you have nothing to post.
So you compose a silly poem,
To quickly upload.
A Viking’s Death
If you ask a person how they want to die,
Most people quite agree.
The best way to go is quietly,
Sleeping in, utterly carefree.
But if you ask a Viking, it’s a different matter,
As this is what they’ll say.
Die with honour and vigour, sword in your hand,
And it’s worth having to go away.
Away to Valhalla where you’ll sit among,
The greatest warriors ever to die.
Odin himself is sat not far from you,
As you listen to the battle cry.
So what will it be, if you had to choose?
Sleeping peacefully in, or the never-ending booze?
Steel
She was steel.
Back straight, head held high.
No blushes, sideways glances,
Nothing coy and nothing shy.
She was steel.
Always standing proud and tall.
Stubbornness personified.
And determined to never fall.
She was steel and yet so kind.
For strength does not leave compassion behind.
Maria Sjöstrand 