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Gorba 2d
Man får säga ibland
Att det finns skönhet som inte går att beskriva
När till och med en himmelsk strand
Skulle se gräslig ut om man skulle jämföra
Så länge jag bor här
Kommer det inte finnas något att klaga på
Vi är som ett par
Med två partiklar som möttes och blev oskiljaktiga
Jag har varit med dig i tre år nu
Och kärleken brinner fortfarande
Det är uppenbarligen jag och du
Och det är inget erbjudande
Det är hellre ett vackert oundvikligt löfte
Som skrevs med outplånligt bläck på ett häfte  
Du ser ut som en mångfacetterad hydra
Som står ovanför en blå matta
Det känns så skönt att korsa dina broar
Och att gå vilse i kurvorna du har
Jag måste också prata om din gröna klänning
Som man inte kan undvika att smeka
Den absorberar solsken, släpper syre, får oss att leva
Och gör mig glad när jag kommer kring
Du är ljusare än solen under sommaren
Men mörkare än ett svart hål när vinter spränger dörren
Som regnet som får regnbågen att dyka upp
Uppskattar jag mörkret för då ser man norrsken
Samtidigt, brukar snö bygga upp
En vit rock som försvinner sen
Du var inte mitt första val från början
Men nu står du högst upp på listan
Jag behöver erkänna att jag är kär i dig
Trots att du inte ens är en riktig tjej.
It's hard to believe
We were once close friends.

That we once cared for each other,
Almost like brothers.

What happened between us
To cause this rift?

What made you so cold,
So unkind to me?

The emerald eyes that spoke a million unknown words,
All unheard behind howling Winter winds.

The once warm smile
Replaced by a stern, unmoving scowl.

What happened between us, Finland?
What caused this shift?

You were once so kind,
So gentle.

You cared about me
Like a brother.

Could we ever be friends again?
Or should I let those memories fade in the Winter winds?
A poem in the perspective of Sweden from Scandinavia And The World. Based on https://satwcomic.com/there-once-was-a-time

If it isn't obvious, I ship Finland/Sweden.
Visit me in Stockholm
We'll be happy together
Locked up and stuck wherever
Stay with me
Forever
For: Huxley Densen
AsianTapWater Oct 2019
Mama?
What's wrong?
Why are we running?

Mama?
Where's Papa?
Did Uncle Mathias catch him too?

Mama?
Where are you going?
Don't go, Mama!
Don't leave me here in the dark!



Mama?
Papa?
Wake up!
Wake up...!
P-Please, this isn't funny.....!



Hello?
Who's there?
Emil, is that you?

Uncle...
Mathias.....?
Reread The Danish Slaughterhouse and figured that Tino would fit better than Berwald so rewrote the poem.
Peter is adopted by a gay couple, Tino and Berwald, so when he's talking to 'Mama' he's talking to a man, not a woman.
Poem based on The Danish Slaughterhouse by Decada.
Original poem: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3229140/a-game/
AsianTapWater Jul 2019
Papa?
What's wrong?
Why are we running?

Papa?
Where's Mama?
Did Uncle Mathias catch him too?

Papa?
Where are you going?
Don't go, Papa!
Don't leave me here in the dark!



Papa?
Mama?
Wake up!
Wake up...!
P-Please, this isn't funny.....!



Hello?
Who's there?
Emil, is that you?

Uncle...
Mathias.....?
Based on The Danish Slaughterhouse, a Hetalia fanfic by Decada.
Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
Fingerprints and fibers,
Accumulated talk,
Whispers in the corners,
Bodies demarcated in chalk
On the marble courtroom stairs.
His misery became a pall.
With mourning signs in splattered pairs,
Red flowers on the wall.

All that he had left behind was grief
And powerless rage,
A Tansu chest in high relief,
A coiled brass clock fatigued with age.

Retreating to a white house in Simrishamn,
He’d walk his dog along the shore,
Find sterile clues amongst the sands,
And travel a ferry between two lands.

And now: An experiment! Blame Google Translate for this weird (?) Swedish translation: Please tell me if this is a bad translation!

Fingeravtryck och fibrer,
Ackumulerat samtal,
Viskar i hörnen,
Kroppar avgränsad i krita
På marmor rättssal trappor.
Hans elände blev en pall.
Med sorgsignaler i splatterade par,
Röda blommor på väggen.

Allt som han hade lämnat var sorg
Och maktlös raseri,
En Tansu bröst i hög lättnad,
En spolad mässingsklocka utmanad med åldern.

Att återvända till ett vitt hus i Simrishamn,
Han skulle gå sin hund längs stranden,
Hitta sterila ledtrådar bland sandarna,
Based on the show and novels of Henning Mankell, "Wallander", an existential, chronically depressed detective from Ystad, Sweden, is unable to leave his police work at the office. He alienates everyone and loses anyone who gets close. In the end, he is left burdened with Alzheimer's and tragic memories.

Och resa en färja mellan två länder.
Baserat på showen och romanen Henning Mankell, "Wallander", kan en existentiell kronisk deprimerad detektiv från Ystad, Sverige, inte lämna sitt polisarbete på kontoret. Han alieniserar alla och förlorar den som kommer nära. Till sist lämnas han av Alzheimers och tragiska minnen.
K F Feb 2018
Brown jacket, chase it up the rocks.
Afraid to slip on the moss and fly without wings down the side.
Or is it lichen?
There's the sea, or bay or ocean.
It's salty, that's certain from the taste of the air.
Back down the hill through wet trees.
Everything is wet.
It's misting ice.
And radiating grey.
Chase the jacket, don't get lost.
Chase the
Wet haird and feeling wild, thoughts are finally scattered
and it feels like we're alive.
Terry Collett Sep 2017
It rains as they put up the tent
they work as fast as they can
but still get soaked to the skin.

Once the tent is up
they climb inside.

I'm going to the shower block
to shower and change
into dry clothes
Dalya says.

The other girl
mumbles similar
and they grab their towels
and walk through the rain
to the female shower block
and go inside.

They peel off
the wet clothes
and put them under a bench
and go into the showers
and turn on the taps.

Hot water
Dalya closes her eyes
and lets the water
rush over her body and hair.

She wishes Benny was there
to wash her body with soap
his hands moving over her curves
and between her thighs
under and over her stiff *******.

But he is not there
and she must do it herself
and pretend with eyes closed
that it is him there.

His hands not hers
his breath on her neck
as he whispers words.

His hands about her body
smoothing down skin.

She spreads her thighs pretending
letting out sighs.
A GIRL IN A SWEDISH BASE CAMP IN 1974
Haruharu Jul 2017
I wanted you to be like me.

You wanted me to be you.

It worked for awhile.

But we found our way back..

To the ones we actually are.

That's when it crashed.

Our worlds collided.

It didn't match.

We grew apart again.

But for a brief moment, we were something.

We were glorious.
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