Linda Steward…a kind soul…an angel

sunset

sunset (Photo credit: Moyan_Brenn)

My cell phone rang and it did not portend

As I hit the click to hear the voice on the other end

Speaking of trivial details of everyday life

And then…in the middle of it all…came the strife.

“Yeah, also Linda died today and I didn’t think she would have long…

She was here only two days and now she is gone.

And the other  woman…” as I did pale

On and on the words did trail…

For I was stuck on the name, “Linda,” for unknown to the other voice,

Linda has become my confidant of choice.

She had been my telephone  friend for the last year,

The one I could call, no matter the time, to give me cheer.

Resurrected friend from childhood she was, a wonderful friend of all the ladies,

Despite her battle with lupus, diabetes, arthritis and host of all maladies,

An arched back and who walked with two canes,

She found it within herself to come to the Mass for Jimmy, despite her pain.

She came out of respect and sympathy for her friend, Barbara, Jimmy’s Mom and my sister,

Who was lying in the hospital bed dying in an ironic, respiratory twister.

As though her heartfelt presence was not enough of genuine care

She had prepared several dishes of food for the affair

Linda, who punctuated my late empty nights with words of encouragement,

Helping me to laugh amid my tears, ridding me of despairing fragments.

Linda, who had regressed from canes to a wheelchair and had suffered an accident in her home.

Within two weeks of the accident, her frail body gave way, she was only on loan.

She died…but now before she gave her all…

Life, hope, laughter was her call.

And now her beautiful, kind spirit is gone from this world

Beckoning us forward to kind deeds to unfurl.

romance

English: Rubinstein Romance op44-1 page3

English: Rubinstein Romance op44-1 page3 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

piano petals

softly

invade your heart

carrying you

into your lover’s arms

dancing delightfully

into all of their charm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2012 Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

love

(from author) "Sand, silt, clay and organ...

(from author) “Sand, silt, clay and organic matter bind together to provide stucture to the soil. The individual units of structure are called peds.” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

human clay

dried up

slipping away

despairing creature

grab hold of the Truth

allow the Hand to mold you

ground into the Being of God

open yourself

let the healing waters pour in

shape you

strengthen you

make you solid

like rock

live in love

 

 

******************************************************************************************************************************

© 2011 Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

What does it matter?

English: Projected density plot of a redshift ...

English: Projected density plot of a redshift z=2.5 dark matter halo from a cosmological N-body simulation. The visible part of the galaxy (not shown in the image) lies at the dense centre of the halo and has a diameter of roughly 20 kiloparsecs. There are also many satellite galaxies, each with its own subhalo which is visible as a region of high dark matter density in the image. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What does it matter if we are Black, Yellow, Red or White?

What does matter is we allow each other human rights.

What does it matter–if we are Sikh or Muslim? Universalist or Atheist?  Christian, Jew. or Lutheran?

What does matter is that love is our anthem!

We all come from the ONE above…

The One who perpetuates all with generosity and love

What does matter is acceptance of one another

What does matter that I can name you sister and brother

Single, married, divorced, gay or straight

What matters is that love is the gate

Suffering has taken its toll on too many

Out of suffering we lash and spend our last penny

Delve within and seek the truth

Allow love to be the giving booth

Listen deep within the quiet

Breath of the Spirit– our soul’s sonnet

And now…she is DEAD

Babbling

Babbling (Photo credit: Phillie Casablanca)

For ALL those who have been Abused by Those Who Wore the Holy Cloth. For ALL those who cannot understand what it does to a Child. Allow that CHILD to express his or her inner pain. Assure them and listen to them until they feel no shame. Protect the CHILD and hold them tenderly in your arms. Protect your CHILD and keep them from all harm. For those who have been abused…Do NOT allow the pain to continue…YOU are SOMEONE….YOU are a CHILD of GOD…You are LOVED…Yahweh holds you tenderly within!

The fateful night and day is long over

I, her student, she, my teacher…in the education clover

I saw her several times over the years

Though inside ravishing with tears

I sought her out to confront her

But in her presence, I was like the smoke of myrhh

She talked as though nothing had taken place between us

She spoke and we exchanged nods in a vacuum amid the buzz

Mostly, I listened…halfway… as she babbled on about her life

While at each visit, I sat and looked at her with hate amid my strife

Wanting to shout at  her what she did to my life, the loathing I felt for myself

Wanting to confront her, and tell her how my worth was put on a shelf

Alas, I could not bring myself to utter the words

My inner esteem crumbled to curds

Even then she held some power over my being

I did not want to hurt her, as she had hurt me, so it seemed

Yet, it was not love but fear

That kept me from throwing the spear

And now SHE is DEAD

And I am left with the threads

+

She got away with murder

Because she was a charmer

The boulder of her need

 Outweighed her love of me

Innocence was lost that night

Sucked out and destroyed on sight

Forty years my senior

She destroyed who I was with her demeanor

+

No one to counsel me

No one to set me free

On her merry way she went

Leaving me with my faith spent

Till anger built in me so

That to the Confessor I did go

Only to have the tomb placed on me

Defiled and rotten, his words to me

+

How much free rent did her deed take up in my brain?

How much did the inner confidence wane?

Each time authority came my way–

I felt diminished with no say.

My tongue was tied, frozen in place…

For myself, I could make no case.

How much power did I give her over the years?

How much joy did she steal from me amid all my tears?

How much fear did it bury me with?

How many times did I think I was nuclear waste–it was no myth.

While she bathed in the glory of those who loved her with glee

They feasted her on her 60th GOLDEN JUBILEE

A holy woman, a woman who dedicated herself to God

The paper gave her the column of praise…while through the dung I did plod

And now SHE is DEAD

I am left with the threads

Two years ago, I accidently saw her

Sitting in her wheelchair, coiled like an adder

Her brain frozen and she was still babbling on

I looked at her, no longer a pawn

And I felt nothing…no pity…nothing lefy to conjure

Her mind had been ravished by nature

She had the same condescending, sinister look…

She was a hollow being, even at ninety, an evil book

All the years of religiosity did not purify her

Even as helpless as she was, no remorse did it stir

She still held a disdainful look for all those about

Her false superiority came through her nonsensical words as she would shout

An apology would never come from her

She was an accomplished musician and still an anchor

For it was me who was tossed into the sea and drowned

The millstone hung so strong

By those who professed their faith many a day long

A charismatic teacher and loved by all

Inside she was hollow and empty, a useless call

And now SHE  is DEAD

And I …a worn thread

And now… AM  I FREE?

Can I loosen the grip she had on me?

Forgive but not forget

Frogive Forgive Forgive with no regret

For someone along the way must have hurt her

For someone along the way her senses blurred

And now SHE is DEAD

Wanting FREDOM in my heart and head

The Wasp Murders

Found under the bench, after we sat down.

Found under the bench, after we sat down. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What happens when woman meets wasps?

Who is the more treacherous?

Who wins when all are dead on the floor?

Who is the more savage?

Monday 19 Sep 2011

***

“I am just an ordinary individual…

With no malice in my heart.

I would ’t hurt a flea!”—as I throw the dart

Isn’t that what they all say?

When accused of the part

Of the murder in the dark!

*

Yet this morning

I must confess to my crime

Murder was the color of my mime

Stealthily I crept into the cold cellar

They all would be dead in no time

Revenge was definitely mine

*

Carefully I plotted

Raising the can of Wasp Killer

A can in each hand of the cold chiller

Pushing the button with frenzy

Poison spewing needing no filler

Yes, yes, the Wasp Murder Thriller!

*

“What have I done!

Now hundreds lie dead on the floor

They fly and breathe no more

Vengence leaving a bitter taste

And I am sick to the core!

There is no vaccine for this sore!

*

All that the wasps wanted

Was to share my home

A corner for that one little cone

But a space I  could not spare

Not to those pesky drones!

No 911 for them to phone!

*

Now, I, left with the guilt

Of my murderous deed,

My treacherous creed

Must weep for these creatures

Savage am I, I must cede!

Compassion I must feed.

the Ocean Swallowed up my Brother

HMS Scylla and Odinn collision

HMS Scylla and Odinn collision (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Roger was 19 and flying high

An Air Force man in the sky

I was only five and still close to the earth

Who would guess there would be a rebirth?

Unexpected the local policeman did announce

Rough and unsympathetic, his life he did renounce

My Mother in her apron, with nine to count,

From her feelings, silently did dismount

In the plane with eight other young men

An engine exploded and took them to their end

For a week, five days no less

The bodies had been laid to rest

Near Iceland, in the cold Atlantic sea

No bodies to bring home, no way to set us free

All were dressed in black

As in the St. Michael’s Church we sat

A strange rectangular box in front

Draped with an American Flag, death hitting us blunt

Carpet Diem*

RIP

RIP (Photo credit: McBeth)

   This poem is dedicated to SUSAN MESSMER, who gifted me with the title of the poem and encouraged me to write it!

                                        * * * * * * * *

The rug lay still upon the floor

No one could ask for more

Years and years it drank up the spill

Family and friends wishing it no ill

Once beautiful and soft

Now an occasional deadbeat moth

Remnants of candyland dotted its frills

Kool-aid and pop that Sara spilled

Artist tints of color that Lara shared

Annie and her fingernail polish with such care

Elliott’s cigarette ashes laying bare

Adorned with their Dad’s long silver hair

Baby Formula from all three

Grandkids next contributed free

Juice, cereal and gummy bears

All so wonderfully, joyfully shared

Coffee from Momma and Poppa did fall

How about that carpenter’s glue on top of it all?

Think of all the footsteps that this rug endured

Absorption of conversation assured

Grandparents, sisters and brothers, and friends

Twenty-five years this rug did lend

All this exuberant life and more

All absorbed by this carpet on the floor

Restless Mississippi…1965

English: Grant County, WI, April 2001 -- Rural...

English: Grant County, WI, April 2001 — Rural Grant County was in deep water because of Mississippi River flooding that affected more than 2,000 homes in Wisconsin. Photo by Grant County Emergency Management (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The winter melted into Spring

Live leaves the water turned

On through Prairie du Chien

The river wildly churned

Lay down Ole Mississippi Old

Lay down you river aged!

Lay down Ole’ Mississippi Old

And cut this bloody rage!

Wild death was its soul concern

No thought for homeless folk

As the restless waves covered them

Covered them like a coffin cloak

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

Lay down you river aged

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

And cut this bloody rage

Like a raging fire it swept on

But the daring humans little cared

If they would only stand and pray

If they would do byt this, they would not scare

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

Lay down you river aged

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

And cut this bloody rage

Threatening river dangers

Moved on in bloody rage

For to it the people’s courage

Was as useless as the prairie sage

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

Lay down you river aged

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

And cut this bloody rage

At last the river surrendered

This frolic,  pleasure chase

And lingered back to quiet tide

To end the fruitless race

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

Lay down you river aged

Lay down Old Mississippi Old

And cut this bloody rage

“Finally,” the people sang in joy,

“The waters have retreated!”

The victory won, they say…

But River thinks the folks defeated.

* * * * * *

© 2012 Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Outcast

Outcast-simbolo

Outcast-simbolo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Anawim, the poor,  to God  cry out…

Please,  please hear our shouts

“I’m on the bottom…nowhere to turn…

Help me to discern…with your love there is no earn

Keep the awareness of YOU …God of LIFE…within  us strong

Do not let me capitulate to the wrong

so alone I feel… the pain inside reels

But I know you see and feel my human deal

feelings crashing into the rocks of my mind

God, you know for YOU I pine…

The outcasts of the LORD…To whom do we go?

The outcasts of the LORD…from YOU all love flows…

YOU are there for us… the psalmsist writes

Thank YOU for sending the surviving kite!

* * * * * *

© 2012 Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jane H. Johann and johannisthinking.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.