I ett Hav av Ljus -dikt

I ett hav av ljus

under höstens täcke

Själarnas dans

I ett hav av ljus

en vemodig sång

om förgänglighet

I ett hav av ljus

den tysta önskan



I ett hav av ljus

en stilla viskan

vi ses snart igen

©Ingemar Martinsson 2017

2017©Kristin Oladatter Steen. Featured image ©Ingemar Martinsson. All rights reserved 




Vakna min vän -dikt

Vakna min vän 
där ute gryr dagen 
Vakna min vän 
glöm obehagen 

Låt mig va, låt mig va 
där finns inget jag vill ha! 

Vill stanna i min dröm 
bara stanna i min dröm 
Vacker och varm 
befriad från larm 
Hela världen så öm 
i min dröm 

Nej, vakna min vän 
tiden är Nu 
Vakna min vän 
ge världen ditt Du 

Din dröm känner ingen 
dig äger ingen 
Men ser du, dagen är tingen 
så vakna, stig upp, kliv sen ut i ringen 


©Kristin Oladatter 2017 all rights reserved

Självhjälpsapostlarnas kör -dikt

Självhjälpsböcker, miljardindustri.
Är du inte lycklig? Vi hjälper dig att bli.
Att må dåligt är en sjukt bra början.
Men inga problem, vi hjälper dig ut ur sörjan.

Du måste ta kontrollen över ditt liv,
stressa ned, vara positiv.
Leva det liv som du vill leva,
vara här och nu, sluta att vela.

Sluta grubbla, sluta kämpa.
Smila och skratta vill garanterat dämpa,
all ångest och oro du måste ha,
så du kan va’ lycklig varje dag.

Lär känna dig själv, älska det du hittar.
Det är inte så farligt när du väl tittar.
Tyck om dig själv, gärna mer än din nästa.
Det är ju ändå du, som är den bästa.

Så, stilla ditt sinne och stressa ned.
Mindfulness och yoga är bra att börja med.
Vi lovar, du kommer att må så bra!
Gör du inte det, en bok till du må ha.

©Kristin Oladatter Steen 2017. All rights reserved

Featured image Pixabay

Svart/vitt och fina färger -dikt

Av hoppet och tron jag säkerligen finna
de vackraste finaste trådar jag spinna.
Färgrika och sköra som livet självt
som påminning om när livet var kärvt.

Av trådarna jag väva de vackraste drömmar
med tjusigt broderade färgrika sömmar.
Inga ytliga drömmar om pengar och beröm
nej, närhet och värme, det är min dröm.

Drömmar fyllda med färg och magi
hela mitt inre skall rymmas däri.
Precis som livet är menat att vara
berusning, förtjusning, allt annat må fara.

Murar jag riva och broar jag bygga
förintelsens skugga långsamt må skygga.
En värld fylld av regnbågens alla nyanser
är vad jag vill ha, jag tar mina chanser.

Featured image ©IMPHOTO

©Kristin Oladatter 2017 All rights reserved


The terror of emptiness is switched on.
Turning the page is never enough. In the absence of redemptive words and the right tools for conciliation you are thrown back in time in an blink of an eye. Your automatic pilot has done it’s job, responing to triggers before you even noticed.
You been here before, in the place you fear and hate the most. Yet it’s the most familiar place. The closest is suddenly the most remote.
Wearing only the mantle of pain and mourning you are walking in the ruins, like the unhappy migrant permanently resident in the ports of loneliness. Houses built by the furious sledgehammer, the nails of mistrust and the barbed wire of bitterness will always collapse as easy as the house of cards in the wind, by the weight of words landing wrong.
The deepest wounds are not made by the sharpest knifes, but by the lies, the betrayals and the distance. Words needed to be asked for has no value, attention needed to be begged for has no meaning.
The smell of loneliness, so familiar.
There’s no old man next door to run to, always ready to serve sweet desserts together with comforting words by an old kitchen table. There’s no dog lying by your feets looking at you with warm and trusting eyes.
There’s nowhere to run but to yourself. It’s just you, alone. Bound to learn to Love your most fragile parts. Bound to learn to exhale the past and to inhale the future. With trust, for Life. For You.

©Oladatter 2017 All rights reserved

Walls & Grids -dikt

I can’t’ get in, I can’t get out.

The entries are locked and the exits are blocked…

by layer upon layer of all kinds of barriers.

The resault of unsuccessfully attempts through the years.

The redemptive words that would make it all fine….

they are just an illusion, they are only in my mind.


The Battle

Above ground frosty branches spreading it’s beautiful chill.

Below the surface fragile roots being cut off.

Under the skin, the sound of chains mouldering away by the pressure of the wings liberation.

The smell of salt water and air, as tempting as the call of the siren.

Tramp harder, feel  the remaining roots! Stay on the ground, save the power of your only weapon.

Soon the air will be warm and filled by the song of the birds returning.

 © Kristin Oladatter 2017. All rights reserved.

The Visitor -Heritage from a Father

The rare bird….Sometimes dropping in for a visit. Unexpected, briefly and rather intense. Like the storm she is -Sudden. A bit violent. I never see it coming. I’m never prepared. She’s just there. Taking command. For a short period of time turning my world up-side-down. Then, just as sudden as she arrived, she’s gone. Leaving me in surprise and confusion. A little bit of fear and anger even. Leaving me with all my questions – what just happened? Who was that girl that in such a short time made me do things that never before crossed my mind? Impulsive and thoughtless. Not thinking of the consequences of my actions?

It takes me a while. A day, maybe. Or two. Then I remember. The visitor was the girl you created. Strong and fearless. A girl that believed in herself. A girl that could do anything she ever wanted.
You gave that to her; all the confidence she needed to go out in the world and make things happen. Doubtless and fearless.

She’s almost scaring me now, these days. So rare she is. But despite that. Despite the confusion and fear she leaves behind I can also sense something else. Amusement?  Joy? Oh yes. There’ definitely a bubbling laughter deep inside. There’s definitely a little smile on my face.

I wish you were around to see her, you know. Would she still make you proud? Would you still believe in her?
Cause you know, she needs you to. Whenever she’s runnning out of faith. Whenever she hesitates, stumble and doubt she needs you to.

I can almost hear your voice -That’s my daughter. That girl can do anything she want’s.-

Yes, I am. Always!

Yes, I can. Sometimes!

©Oladatter 2016. All rights reserved

Deserted- In a Moment

There, at the end of the small dirt road to nowhere…. The deserted house. All covered in green you can hardly see it. A long time ago nature started it’s battle to retake all the parts it can possibly use.  Uninpeded it’s job can continue. No one is there to prevent it.

Half the roof has changed it’s location. From the inside floor, trees and plants are now growing, stretching towards the light from abowe where once the roof was.

In the bedroom  rats have been feasting on the mattresses in the untided bed. Some clothes left to dry still hanging there. During the years they’we been wet over and over again by the rain coming in. They no longer smells like a summer meadow. More like the rutten smell of a mire.

In the fireplace the parts of the  firewood not charred, are covered in moss.

If you close your eyes you can almost hear it; the drumming of small childrens feet on the floor….The sound of intimacy and Love from the bedroom.

Such a long time ago it must have been.

In a moment they were gone. Was it a happy moment? Did they have time to finish their coffee and say goodbye to their loved one’s?  We can only imagine.

But maybe not…..Cause in the backyard the old car is left to rust.


Copyright photos by ©IM Photo 2016 All rights reserved