Friday, February 13, 2009


I will never understand why it works the way it does.
It has been at least 2 years since I last wrote a poem, that is, it was until this wednesday, when I wrote some again. I was walking home and I wrote a couple of lines into my trusty Moleskine notebook (that was a good purchase).
The so called poems were a bit dark in my opinion, but I'm happy enough to be writing some again.

After telling my roommate about it, he said I should be trying harder, so I could write more and be less dependent on inspiration which seems to come in bursts.
This doesn't seem to be a good idea to me as forcing things never works, and I would expect it to be worse with poetry.

Oh, and about the stuff I wrote. You can have one, if you want it:


The young night
brings a strange light
which wakes me inside
turns my tide.

I wish for morning.

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