I Knew Her (revised)

 I Knew Her

I knew her
With her ups and downs,
When she was productive, positive,
Knitting socks, potholders, sweaters,
Not for self but for we others,
Starting projects, energetic and a mother..

Knew her
With her yearly birthday cake
To celebrate Pernilla, Patrick;
Knew her with her pretty legs, nice clothes, good taste,
Devotion to her Laila, Olga, birds and nature.
Yes, I knew her nature: happy, well, and not.

Yet, you never know that whole entire;
Soul entire;
How she searched the Biblical,
For faith we all are searching for.
I knew her parts, her mind her heart,
Good and uneven.

If there is a heaven
“…for the Father’s house has many mansions…’
And a place for everyone,
New life begun,
There she is in happiness,
Good health and peace.

I Knew Her 12.16,2018 Birth, Death & In Between III;

*Pia Johannson

I Knew Her

I Knew Her

I knew her;
With her ups and downs;
When she was productive, positive,
Knitting grytlappar, socker och trojor;
Not for self but for we others,
Starting projects, energetic and creative.

Knew her:
With her yearly birthday cake
To celebrate Pernilla, Patrick;
Knew her with her pretty legs, nice clothes, good taste,
Devotion to her Laila, Olga, birds and nature.
Yes, I knew her nature: happy, well and not.

Yet, you never know that whole entire;
Soul entire;
How she searched the Biblical,
For faith we all are searching for.

I knew her parts, her mind her heart,
Good and uneven.
If there is a heaven
“…for the Father’s house has many rooms
And many houses”…
And a place for everyone,
New life begun,
There she is in happiness,
Good health and peace.

I Knew Her 12.16,2018 Birth, Death & In Between III;

*Pia Johannson December 1, 2018

Ought Bathe In Sorrow?

Working it through.

Ought One Bathe In Sorrow?🤔✍️🌈

Ought one bathe in sorrow,
Or let sorrow fade
Without a fading ‘way in sorrow?

Ought one bathe in sorrow
Or let sorrow fade
Transformed to something other?
Smother sorrow
Or coordinate its feelings
Into strength that lies within?
A needy ego never breaks away
From its own needy skin.

In sorrow one can reach inchmeal
Brand-new, unfamiliar skill
Horizons, wisdom, will,
Intuition and cognition
Of the fragile, individual condition;

Knowledge that the sun comes up and sets,
Knowing from itself what gets
It going, glowing, showing up for us to use
With gifts that never lose their power,
Showering receiver with a donor,
Donor with receiver.

Sorrow time is time for seeing;
For relating in- to out-er;
Sorrow has a duty
To reshape activity,
See what’s truly
there,
The wholeness of it all.

Sorrow time is time to tell
The difference between what you know
From what you don’t until
A time when you are there one (unimagined) day
When you know all.

Ought one to bathe in sorrow?
No and no and no.

Ought One Bathe In Sorrow? Draft 2 12.3.2018 Birth, Death & I Between III; Arlene Nover Corwin

A Death In Families (corrected typos)

I was intuitively drawn to record yesterdays passing of Kent’s beloved daughter Pia, 54.

A Death In Families
😔
Many died December one, twenty eighteen:
Babies starved in Yemen.
A president, protesters, rioters,
Yet, and yet one death came nearer, dearer
Which we felt and feel
Longer, deeper, real-er
Than the global multitude.

It does, but shouldn’t.
Shouldn’t but it does.
So, one but throws
The end into the emptiness
Of universes’ possibilities:
Hopes, faith, wishes – and acceptance
To reduce the stress of sorrow,
Day’s tomorrow,
Back to normalcy as soon as tears can slow,
Never knowing what can be
For you, them, we
Without the warning of a morning.

There will be a time for mourning;
Funerals, a getting rid of overflows,
Clothes, what-not,
Things got throughout the years.
There will be time for letting tears,
Contemplating fears denied.

So on December two
Life will go on, plants grow, snow snow,
The Arctic melt in climate change,
Corruption, goodness interchange
With not a winner.
One will once again ignore
Aridity and wetnesses,
The multitude of witnesses,
Attempting as before
To focus on the battered Earth,
A bettered Self,
A more inclusive view of Death.

A Death In Families 12.2.2018 Birth, Death & In Between III; Arlene Nover Corwin

A Death In Families

 

I was intuitively drawn to record yesterdays passing of Kent’s beloved daughter Pia, 54.
         A Death In Families😔
Many died December one, twenty eighteen:
Babies starved in Yemen.
A president, protesters, rioters,
Yet, and yet one death came nearer, dearer
Which we felt and feel
Longer, deeper, real-er
Than the global multitude.
It does, but shouldn’t.
Shouldn’t but it does.
So, one but throws
The end into the emptiness
Of universes’ possibilities:
Hopes, faith, wishes – and acceptance
To reduce the stress of sorrow,
Day’s tomorrow,
Back to normalcy as soon as tears can slow,
Never knowing what can be
For you, them, we
Without the warning of a morning.
There will be a time for mourning;
Funerals, a getting rid of overflows,
Cloths, what-not,
Things got through the years.
There will be time for letting tears,
Contemplating fears denied.
So on December two
Life will go on, plants grow, snow snow,
The Arctic melt in climate change,
Corruption, goodness interchange
With not a winner.
One will once again ignore
Aridity and wetnesses,
The multitude of witnesses,
Attempting as before
To focus on the battered Earth,
A bettered Self,
A more inclusive view of Death.
A Death In Families 12.2.2018 Birth, Death & In Between III; Arlene Nover Corwin

 

My Unconventional Life

      My Unconventional Life

     (to be continued, surely)

 

Awake with something wholly different on my mind:

That darned poetic drive

With its machinery and striving taking over,

Skin-deep first, reasoned second, (wisdom in),

Rhyme and meter; fun as fun,

Scholar sage replacing age.

 

I’ve become a Pavlov’ dog.

Wake up,

A  milky coffee cup,

Some vitamins ingested.

Nightgown dressed, pillow still pressed,

My Siamese twin, a pen and pad;

Ideas suggested

By a phrase I’ve read in bed

Or see on TV right before me:

Put together by a brain that’s mine

And that strange force one can’t define;

Force I cannot find and do not try to –

There, I know through 

Ageing’s power of maturation.

 

A conglomeration.

One more daily benediction.

An endorsement of support;

A go-aead, thumbs up, a sign of admiration

Coming from a no place in particular.

 

Day launched, there’ll be some potpourri,

Some medley, miscellany

Gathering as day goes on,

The hours showing what to do;

The ‘whats’ a multitude, the ‘whats’ a few.

 

So like a Schwarzenegger, 

“I’ll be back” to speak to you

Through word or song or what I’m equal to

That day, that time, that juncture.

 

My Unconventional Life 11.22.2018 Pure Nakedness II; Birth, Death & In Between III; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Thinning Skin

  The Thinning Skin Or, I Never Stopped To Think

 

I never stopped to think,

The skin gets thin.

Then looking down, I saw my leg,

And there it was: the winter

Of my life in action: reneging;

Processing past youth – and losing.

Not amusing!

Definitely not!

Fragility, a new reality;

Oils, creams and salves to save

A youth no longer tangible.

Every syllable a wail of decline.

Not fine,

Definitively not, not fine!

 

And yet, I saw the possi-probablity

That by design God is benign,

And if the wine goes sour

Some divine sweet guarantee

Will make it fine –

Despite the programmed skin of youth’s denial.

The Thinning Skin Or, I Never Stopped To Think; 2.5.2018 Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Wrinkles; Birth, Death & In Between III;

 

 

 

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: