Best Johanna Poems
A wonderful grandmother
She smiled because she had lived
Taught me about life and love
Her silver hair revealed years she had seen
Children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren
A long life of sunshine, joy, pain and tears
Nothing came easy in her life
Grandma's hands bent and swollen by arthritis
Bless your breath from this life
I can always see you in my memory
(Dagny Johanna Gismervik - died 16/12/2002 - 89 years)
21.02.2016
A-L Andresen :)
To my daughters
Her eyes
Searching the stars
To share her song, her heart
A clearing in the woods, hazel
Sofia.
Her eyes
Like azure skies
Reflecting in water
Absorbing all that life offers
Johanna.
Her eyes
That cannot lie
The goodness that lies
Within clouds to water God's fields
Stacey.
By CarolineCecile
I wish heaven had a telephone
Or a free hour for visitors
Where we can talk to our deceased again
Then maybe I will be relieved
And my broken heart will be at ease
I don't know how it felt when you were around
Because I was just an innocent, mindless infant
When death confiscated you away from us
But I can tell it from mom's piteous eyes
That you were a loving and a caring man
Mom really miss you very much
With tearful eyes, she always talk about you
Sincere, ambitious and vibrant you were
She sometimes even call me by your name
Apparently I badly remind her of you
Growing up fatherless in this fierce world
Is like a sheep in the forest on a stormy day
Lost, bitter and hopeless
Like the sky without the sun, stars and the moons
Dark, incomplete and insecure
Why did you go so soon dad?
Why were you not strong to hold on?
If not for mom, why did you not live longer?
Longer for me, Esther or the unborn baby Johanna
Why? Why? Why? All this questions I am asking
Nobody can play the role you abandoned
You were supposed to give us fatherly love
All you did is exploited our right to have a father
And left the family with a whopping gap
Which nobody else, but only you can fill
But I know it is all God's will
And that is why I pray every night
For your soul to find peace with God
I pray that one day we will reunite again
And be together as a family in heaven
Holier than thou
Not giv’n to pray, they were grey monks
‘Mid the holy band, ole’ Father John
Who was a gansta and wanksta,
Held command with some merry wives
That were healed of un-upright-nesses
Of them was Johanna selle her belle chose
And walke as fresh as is a red rose.
Many ministered unto him their substance.
Such was then pious lusty man of this crowd
This monk possess’d such wond’rous pow’r
To rub out the sin that Satan chalk’d upon
And gave fresh license to start afresh.
Near, in a farm house liv’d this gay dame
Quite clever in throwing a spanner in works
Father John sought the cell ev’ry week
Once a thump at the door, the husband came
Who was dodgy and a nutter
Punished the father with his thick stick.
Till he confessed "no he’d play the priest".
+++
August 24, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Psychedelic music making me comfortably high
Lights flashing in the darkened, September sky
I’m feeling groovy as Visions of Johanna came on next
My IPod on loud as I tried so awkwardly to text
A message about an extraordinary, ancient tale
To my friend interested in every minuscule detail.
He knew this was not from some biblical verse
But revolved around a famous old religious curse
A Harbinger with a Psychic sending out cryptic news
About second comings and alternate devout views
Back two thousand years or maybe even much more
The prophecy had to do with a future, sustaining war.
A handsome man with thick hair will be in power
And killed from shots fired from a very high tower
His position then replaced by a series of unpopular lugs,
Whose pawns driven by a culture of violence and drugs
Will be forced into a war that can really never be won
Citizens will peacefully and violently protest until it’s done
And while Eve of Destruction played in the background
My mind travelled to Vietnam and the dead bodies found
My friend felt my story was just legend and not really true
But even so, it brought me to a time that I very well knew.
And the Psychic whose name to this day is a mystery
Held the secret of America’s future and turbulent history.
Queen Johanna I of Naples
Reigned over the marriage bed
"No wife must yield to her husband
More than six times per day," she said.
And now you know the reason
Why they all died young, back then
It wasn't the spaghetti
Just cocks chasing after the hen!
I see you on stage, accepting your badge
Looking like time erased all definition
From your stodgy face
Sometimes I wonder if you realize
what you've done-
In interviews, always cagey
Mercurial like the days of England
prancing on half-beaten guitars
With a litany of melted stories
We salute you from coast to coast:
A sultan of piercing lyricism
Making time stand still with song.
When nuclear war towered,
Belting out when I die in my footsteps
You are a rare animal trekking
Through a wasteland of fear
When I was a teenager
Crawling through mirrors,
Visions of Johanna blasted my skull
Making a temple for me to grow
Though Mona lisa had the highway blues
I can feel the spine of your voice
As I round early adulthood
Learning the deepest reaches of love,
Speaking like silence
There's no way to catalogue
the impression you've had
So as you stand there on stage
Being hung with the President's medal
Know that you've made an impact
Your life will inspire
Humanity for generations to come
Art
in the
bakery-
will she buy this
one
Tribute to Johanna Ey artf=dealer/artists friend
Johaanna Ey by Otto Dix
http://www.mess.net/galleria/dix/ey.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johanna_Ey
The painting of "The Sick Child" by Edvard Munch (1863-1944)
was painted in 1907, oil on canvas, 46.4 inches by 47.2 inches
or 3.8 feet by 3.9 feet. Edvard painted what stirred his mind, and
this art piece touches my soul, it is one of six of the same scene.
It is painted in thick layers, in vertical strokes and has a hazy
feel and an emotional power. We are sharing a scene that is the
veil of Edvard's memory, the death of his sister, Johanna at fifteen.
The suffering girl is propped up on a pillow, she seems poised to me .
As the girl looks to the side perhaps looking at death coming, a
mourner clutches her hands, a woman maybe a family member.
I feel a loving bond in the anguish of the bowed head and despair.
The painting captures the ravage of disease, it is a haunting scene.
The use color and style is Expressionism, pigments of white, marine
and vermillion red, ochre, emerald green, yellows, and cobalt blue
can be detected. Oh, that thick blanket must be so warm and heavy.
I feel the girl's pain, and the acceptance of her death, her emptiness.
Bob Dylan's Suicide
A song on JFK Assassination
Like a Rolling Stone,
I Want You, Blowin' In The Wind,
Hurricane.
Mr. Tamborine Man, Just Like A Woman,
It Ain't Me Babe
Tangled Up In Blue
Visions Of Johanna
Every Grain of Sand
Jokerman, You Ain't Goin' Nowhere.
Shelter From The Storm
Maggie's Farm, Tonight I'll Be Staying Here,
The Times Are A Changing
All Along The Watch Tower, Things Have Changed,
A Simple Twist of Fate
Idiot Wind, Knockin' On Heaven's Door,
Dignity, It's Aright, Ma
Desolation Row: Murder Most Foul.
by,
Martin Braun
3/30/2020
K-eep
Y-our
L-ove
A-live
Topic: Birthday of Kyla Johanna Sito (April 8)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
It started with one
The south is where she would grow up
New York is where she would stay
A man she would meet, two girls she would have
New York is where the oldest would grow up
She would move to Baltimore, but at some point, Colorado would become her home
She would have two girls of her own
But would lose one all too soon
New York is where the youngest would grow up
She would try out California, but Colorado would become her home
She would have one girl of her own
She would be born in New York, but Colorado would be her home
And a girl she would have of her own
Daisy, Darlene, Johanna, Crystal, Sharifah, Nicole & Aleonya
J-ust
O-vercome
H-azard
A-nd
N-oxious
N-astiness
A-s
R-abid
E-nemy's
P-andemic
U-ses
Y-ucky
A-ilment
Topic: Birthday of Johanna A. Repuya (June 21)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
K-eep
Y-our
L-ight
A-flame
J-ust
O-beying
H-oly
A-lmighty's
N-oble
N-otes
A-s
S-ubmission
I-s
T-ruly
O-utstanding
Topic: Birthday of Kyla Johanna Sito (April 08)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
J-ust
O-bserve
H-ygiene
A-nd
N-ew
N-ormal
A-s
P-rocedures
A-bate
R-abid
T-hreat's
O-utbreak
Topic: Birthday of Johanna A. Parto (June 02)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic