As we dive into a section of poetry, a small intro might be needed. While poems might seem like literature and difficult to comprehend, allow me to lead this way by showing different kinds of interpretations.

You shall find below two poems, one inviting self-awareness and one fun one, too.

Let’s start slow by this format of poem which is based on randomly recommended words, expressions and “vibes”.

Returning from a poetry Open-Mic a week ago at “The English Bookshop” I asked dear friends to give me random words they come up with. And, indeed, random they were (although seasonal): Marshmallows, Autumn, Dog, Sign, Cozy Autumn Vibe.

Out of such words, I enjoy challenging myself to write a poem on the spot. The following was written in a mere 7 minutes. Enjoy :

Cozy autumn vibe

Strolling along Stockholm’s streets,

one's with cozy white and blue seats,

I wonder if the falling leaves are a sign

That the stars will finally align

It may also be that autumn arrives,

Sending summer farewell goodbyes,

For cats and dogs may play by the lakes,

I hope you don't mind us enjoying Stockholm cakes,

You may add marshmallow or cinnamon,

Cause without them, it' be no fun,

For we shall take a step back and see,

How Autumn with fika only starts to set us free.

The next poem, is one I would like you to take a moment for and… enjoy :

The Souls of Warmth

There it was, this sudden realisation,

The one, that now didn’t need any imagination,

Routine does start once again, although malleable,

However, far from Summer’s, as magical as a fable.

For we link the heat of the past months with landscapes,

Those we discover, explore and use as escapes,

Instead of thinking of the people we encountered,

Their voices, that now cannot go by unheard.

Those people you meet in a glimpse when walking by,

Those, when losing in sight, you leave out a silent sigh.

The souls you connect with in summery nights,

When gazing upon astra in the sky, those blinking little lights.

Their names get stuck in our minds;

Struck when heard on the streets

Those with whom our destiny magically aligns,

And matches with each of our heart beats.

And once we leave their presence or aura,

Away from what defines their flora or fauna,

Each note resembling their tone or expressions,

Revives a plethora of rich and deep emotions.

For this is the beauty of ephemeral romance,

One that feels like a sudden tango dance,

Taken by surprise, enjoyed till its last turn,

Looking back and gazing at its lasting traces,

Like you would, on those of shiny Saturn.

Stopping in a dynamic world

As bikes ride and time goes by,

Daring to flee right under our nose,

We live a dynamic life, and dive,

Into this sea of fullness and nothingness at last.

For we zone out, live entire days of forgettable content,

As if we were willing to forget, giving our consent.

All this rush, this running, running, walking,

I wonder when we’ll stop and start pondering?

Everybody seems to be rushing to God-knows-where,

Like the busy clouds, up in that clear yet unreachable atmosphere;

Where they cover this surface of waltzing trees’ leaves,

Completing this autumn background, which in all perception lives.

The constant velocity, makes one actually see,

How all the waves, at constant rate, move but far from free.

Pushing automatically all ships to a certain somewhere,

Far away from their Ithaca, controlled by Poseidon’s sea.

Stopping does take courage and dare to look up,

To the leaves dancing, to the bikes and people moving,

To the sunset-kissed architecture, a life-providing new texture,

While also looking down and inward; realise what it means: being-

For movement is in vain if the destination and path aren’t reflected on,

For the journey is the destination at last, before it becomes past.

While you’re the navigator experiencing existence in this revolving sphere,

And I challenge you to stop, and then move on and… hear:

Hear the inner voice chanting for a far destination,

Hear the inner desire providing to life some added imagination,

While the eyes might perceive what you think they do,

The way you allow yourself to move, will give to it all a new kind of groove.

For we all walk, run, bike, and commute,

Though at what cost, if our crossing-looks remain mute.

For we shall be aware, reflect, wake up and see,

Letting the mind wander, let our gratefulness free,

And embrace the new environments, situations, new faces,

While moving through life consciously,

And allowing our own selves actually be.