Category: My own fictional work

Dear readers,
My published article on the young Somalian- British poet Warsan Shire is out in the latest printing of the magazine “Hjärnstorm” (A Swedish magazine that focuses on art and literature). You can read more about it here.


I have now written twice about Ms. Shire’s poetry, and have gotten very acquainted with her work. My latest article chronicles her career as a poet and her collaboration with the pop star Beyoncé for the 2016 visual album “Lemonade”. Ms. Shire’s poetry collection, “Teaching my mother how to give birth”, is brilliant. Check it out if you haven’t.

During my research for the article, I was fascinated by the poem “Dear moon”. I live next to a nature reservation, where they have a lot of live stock, including goats, ducks and cows. These things combined lead to me creating a retelling of the poem; one which is affectionate and more humorous. As follows:

“Dear Cow”

Dear Cow,
We blame you for tummy aches.
For the lactose that hurts.
We blame you for the pancakes
that make us fat.
We blame you for pollution.
We blame you for flies
that appear near you.
and yet we say we tamed you
You furry, unimaginable thing


That’s all for today. Take care/ Maaretta

Today is World Poetry Day! In Honor of this day, here are two poems written by your truly.


At Market with Lover and his father

A seagull stole his ice cream.
I gave him mine.
His dad said he’s useless


My arm was itching
So I flayed it

only issue afterwards was how
to go the whole day hiding it?

there´s only so long
I can keep holding
my sleeve down

Take Care/ Maaretta

Dear readers,

Below you will find two poems I’ve recently written. The first came about the #metoo campaigns that has shocked both the USA and Europe. The other regarding people and reading.

Best regards/ Maaretta

Here is a Thought

On a tram at 22 PM a man
comes up and in a shove-like manner
taps on my shoulder
slurs words, I shake my head not understanding
the same man says, waving side to side
front back
“Do you wanna fuck”
shaking my head, I get up from my seat and rush
as near to the conductor’s booth as possible
standing for the rest of the journey there

People now most likely are thinking:
“Well he’s drunk, not to take so
Yes he is drunk
should have sipped water, then

The Simplest Version

Pile up the books from sale
the mobile will immortalize it
uploaded to facebook
after a few seconds someone
informs, disguised as a question
´darling, who reads anymore´?

Me and my father worked together on a comic way back in 2012, that was published by a Norwegian Gallery. It appeared in the collection “Odds: the text collection” which featured small bits of art and essays, along with the seven page comic from your truly. Below is a link to the comic, now available for free on the net:

ArtMom seeks out her Champanions_0001

Taka Care!/ Maaretta

Hi everyone. Yesterday I published through Creative Commons a petite, small book that combines art with short fables. The book is free and as long as you give credit where it is due, it is ok to share it. If you like slice-of-life stories that discuss gender, atheism, growing up and the chaos of existence, you´ll enjoy my book 🙂

Download either here:

or here:


Take care! Maaretta

Since everyone’s either writing essays, articles or talking about the Wikileaks, I have, with Hapstance Depart, written a Haiku about Wikileaks:

Bring into being
texts that tell many lost tales
absent withheld truth

For more of Haikus combined with Wikileaks, see here.

Published poet now!

Today a work of fiction of mine will be published in a magazine called”Hjärnstorm”. My Poem, “As a Child”, will be published in the Magazines newest number.

“Hjärnstorm” is an art and literature magazine which consists of a mixture from essays to poems, short stories to reports. Each number usually has a specific theme; some to just mention have been suicide, Finland, loneliness and pessimism. Some themes are quite dark, while others are more like tributes to a certain cultural person or subject. The Magazine changes writers often and tries to produce informative yet easy to read text. “Hjärnstorm” delivers intellectual and insightful works while trying to reach out to everybody, including those who are not used to high intellectual texts. Check out their Website here.

To read another post about “Hjärnstorm”, visit Hap.Stance Dep.Art’s site.

My poem has been translated into Swedish, under the title “Som Barn”. To read the original work, click on the title of my poem up there. Thank you!
Take Care/ Maaretta

Note: This was a story I wrote for a project my Mother’s involved in. But it wasn’t quite what she had needed, so I’m going to write another version of this story. But since I think this version is kinda cute, since it’s based on a childhood memory, I’ll publish it here.

In China town, New York, lobsters were cheap. For this reason, my mother, who came from Finland where lobsters weren’t cheap, liked to buy a whole bunch of them and throw lobster parties for her visiting Scandinavian friends. We bought them from a little Chinese shop a couple of blocks away from our home. My father was usually the one who went out to buy the lobsters. He would let me come with him since I was so eager to see the lobsters in their water tanks. Since I was under the age of five, my father had to hold my hand while walking towards the shop – I would be pulling him along the whole way. It was always up to him to be able to hold on to my hand and to keep up with my speed. In the shop he would let me run from tank to tank. He even would let me choose which ones I would like to take home. I was always thrilled with this part, believing they would be my new pets. However, when we got home I would realize to my horror that my parents were planing to cook and eat every single lobster. I would protest, demanding that they should be spared. My parents would ignore me, lighting the stove. While my father dropped lobster after lobster into the boiling water, I ran into my room, crawled under my bed and put my fingers into my ears. At times mother came to check on me. She would ask me what the matter was. I would always answer in a melancholic tone:

”I can hear them screaming”


Hej har kommit hem

Säkert så sov gott min svart

Klädda söt ängel


Ditt namn sägs och skrivs

alltid rätt när mitt glöms bort.

Det är ju artigt!

Inte att jag vill

såra dig buss men cyckeln

kan man lite på


Hon godtar bara

massager som gåvor så

från mig får hon noll

Gosse djuren

Sover med katten

du gav i hopp av att

du blir snart mer frisk

Mitt finska accent

Dom gillar inte

mitt finska accent så jag

svär tyst till mig själv


Jag vill hjälpa att

Plocka bär men jag ser inte

Genom tårarna

Din kille

Vi skulle vara

vänner men din kille vill

jämnt skrämma oss



”Everything is good

and will continue to be

so” The teacher lied.



This is not silly

just evil regardless of what

our dear teacher says!

The Reaffirmation

 He insisted that

he was human even if

nobody else was


Att spy

Igår spydde jag

i kyrkan när jag hade

smakat på vinet.


Fast vi ses jämnt i

Skolan så får jag inte

Fast dig i min dröm



 “Tänk hur mycket vi

Människor gör reklam för

Djävulen” sa far


The Contract

Please sign this contract!

It’s for keeping our culture

faraway from ours!


Dina ögon är

röda som rosor och ditt

Hjärna har feber.