“I used to love hating poetry” – poem by Lars Blichfeldt 

I made the poem ‘one day’ after a period of not being able to write anything I thought was good enough.

No matter what, it ended up with me being frustrated or disappointed.

It left me with two choices. 

I could give up trying to write because I wasn’t the new Whitman – just an average guy that actually needed to practice and make mistakes to learn and improve.

To actually believe that two months of writing would place me anywhere near what others have taken years to master is ridiculous…. I know.

Nevertheless, it was exactly what I hoped for. Being good at something without doing any kind of effort to achieve it.

But maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe that’s what stops us from giving up before we even begin.

My second choice was to face the facts and just carry on practicing. To keep writing no matter how lousy the outcome would be.  

I choose the last.

Now give me 10 years and I will write you a masterpiece. In the meantime, here’s a hell of a try😉

Thank you for taking your time to read this.

I used to love hating poetry.

Written by those who failed

living the expected life themselves.

Now wrapping-up words

in riddles and fancy glitter.

To attain the unattainable.

Narcissistic socialists

breathing the universe

while reminding the masses

to be satisfied just looking at the sun.

I did.
I looked at the sun.


Perhaps I was wrong.
Perhaps I was the failure.

I started writing.

It felt refreshing.

Pats on the back,

Polite comments and praises.

I was seduced,
intoxicated by appreciation.

Soon I would be the lump of coal
transforming into a diamond

The winning ticket
The one in a million.
Without practice.
Without effort.
A unicum.
This “new” me..
A thinker..
A writer..
A word wrapper..
A poet..

What I loved to hate,
I now hated to love.

Thinking like a child,
naive like a child,
I believed the sun turned around me.

One day I might grow up.
One day I might loose this spirit.

Hopefully it won’t be soon.



A big thank you to Lars Blichfeldt 

You can read other poems by Lars here & here 

“Rain” – by Lars Blichfeldt


I made the poem ‘Rain’ while I was thinking about some of the darker things in life.

Mental issues and how they can push anybody to the edge and sometimes even over the edge. Something I recognise from my own life.

My childhood was rather rough. Maybe because of that, I did a lot of crime and vandalism.

Luckily for me, I found a secret weapon to stop it before it got out of control. Drugs.. and many of them. I drugged my brain for 15 years trying to ignore my problems and feelings. But the brain does not easily forget. You can postpone and try to hide, but it will make you deal with it… one way or the other.

In my case, it just ‘turned on’ anxiety in my brain, and, if I did any kind of drugs, it would give me a panic attack.

Effective and without mercy.

It started five years ago, and I’m still fighting. No drugs – only words, a shrink and some good friends.

Most people can’t handle what they can’t see. We get 80% of our impressions thru our eyes, so expect a lot of people to avoid and ignore you.

But face it anyway… Fight it anyway. And when you get your first victory, keep that sweet little moment in mind when the next black cloud starts to rain..



When black clouds
rained upon me
I used to feel sorry for myself.

I looked at people around me
popping their one man umbrellas
saving themselves.

unable to see
unable to hear
the suddenly invisible wet people.

‘we learn for as long as we live’
Maybe so.

But I still get caught in the rain
I still get cold
Still haven’t learned
how to unfold my umbrella.

But I do not feel sorry for myself
Not anymore.

Bring on the rain
Bring on the cold
I eagerly await.

Await the return of the sun
await for its shield of warm clear light
to spread thru my cold wet body
for the return of my smile
and the end of my sighs.