Forevermore

Today, I read Diane Anderson, newtreemom's blog and found an interesting prompt from Ethical ELA's Verse Love challenge. Use the "first words" from a poem that inspired you. 

As many of my poetry and writing colleagues know, I have been bewildered by a new way of living since my husband passed suddenly last April. Writing is my way of dealing with loss and so I try to find time each day to unfold my thoughts. This day started out with what a person in the bereavement phase of life calls a grief burst.  You will find my poem starting with the first line of Rumi's poem, The Window,  a raw piece of writing that opened my soul. I found the above image at Unsplash's free image collection. Then, I scrolled through blogs on love and loss and found a quote that reminded me that love is forevermore. "Love is the bridge between two hearts, and death cannot break a bridge built with such strong and lasting love." I share my poem with you. ⇣

LOVE AND LOSS

"Your body is away from me."     (1st line of Rumi's poem, The Window)

 Year two begins anew.

 Everlasting love remains,

 Tucked away in my heart

 Unexpectedly, grief 

 "Gushes in", flooding 

  My soul with sadness, 

  Changing my perspective.

  I pause in the warm sunlight.

 Tears quietly stream down,

 Like a rushing waterfall.

 Another "grief burst" 

 Finds its way, uprooting

 Years-old, seeded thoughts.

 Your heartnotes sprout

 Preserved in our gardens -

 Forevermore cherished 

 With eternal love. 

 draft, CVarsalona, 2026

                   I listened to this love song.

I have always been intrigued by dandelions and their puffballs' ability to fly through the air with one breathe-in, breathe-out blow. This week, when I saw a perfectly ready dandelion to make a wish, I ran right to the ground and picked the "wish weed" (what I have called the dandelion for years). I  photographed it before the seed heads spread across the lawn. 

←Thank you, Poetry Sisters, Tanita, Laura, Mary Lee, Liz, Sara, Tricia, and Kelly, for inviting "PoetryPals" to write an Ekphrastic Poem for the Poetry Sisters' monthly challenge.  

News of the Week: I happily checked my  Spring Seeds Grace April Padlet and found five poet friends, Bob Hamera, Ramona Behnke, Joyce Ray, Denise Krebs, and Verreno Diane Anderson, who added their creative image poems. There is still time to add your original artistic expression related to the theme. 

Click here to join our lovely host, Irene Latham, at her An Emily Dickinson Poetry Friday Roundup. Irene shares news on her new book, Some Starry Night, which "explores what might have happened if Emily Dickinson and Vincent van Gogh met in 1886 Paris. It's a re-imagining, as Emily never actually went to Paris or met Vincent. In actuality, she died May 15, 1886."

National Poetry Month

Day 24/30

Hallow's Eve

It was the sign of the times. The Wraiths' Feast came to be. Collegiate voice lifters journeyed through the Witches' Passage to the nearest Wailing Walls. With Lantern Haze devices, they slowly proceeded onward. Under a darkened sky, they listened for Midnight Murmurs from Gossamer Ghosts who enjoyed lurking on the bewitching night of Halloween. 

Are you ready for a ghostly poems prompted by our creative Poetry Friday host, Jone Rush MacCulloch? Jone offers a list of Halloween prompts to create a variety of poems by our community of writer-poets.  What I did was take her poems and introduce them in a short tale that is partially true from my college days with additional support from Halloween photos I took while living in Long Island.           

⇩

DON'T BE AFRAID!

Howling whisperers

screech and whimper.

With bated breath,

 Halloweeners creep quietly,

slowly inching their way

throughout the cemetery

until they notice

a formidable sign.

"Yikes!"  Do you see a conclave before us?

Ghastly, bellowing ghosts circle.

Whose Moolinght Graveyard is this?

I think I know, but

not all agree.

Some friends step back,

tingling like scared cats,

Others mesmerized by the Phantom Lullaby.

Howling screams, frozen in time, rise. Stop!

Something lurks by the Velvet Coffin.

"Let it be known", so it is said.

"There is something haunting

in the light of the moon."

Without delay, scratching voices

rise from the ground.

We quickly skedaddle

under the light of the evening moon,

before sirens chase us out.

©CVarsalona, 2025

Just Remember:

Beware of what lurks at night on Hallow's Eve.

@CVarsalona, free verse, Halloween 2025

@CVarsalona digital artwork 

Follow the light of the moon to Jone's Poetry Friday Halloween Roundup.

You never know what you will find.

Poetry Peeps were invited to the Poetry Sisters challenge for October! A burning haibun arrived from the ashes of my opening prose poem. As the Poetry Princesses noted, the burning haibun is not the "old regular haibun. It highlights the internal landscape of memory and within them, something somewhere must BURN." 

(Please enjoy visiting other poets who enjoyed creating burning haibuns: Tricia, Sara, Laura, Mary Lee, Liz, and Michelle K. Check Tanita's blog to see if more people joined in.)

In prose, I present Hallow's Eve.

It was the sign of the times. The Wraiths' Feast came to be. Collegiate voice lifters journeyed through the Witches' Passage to the nearest Wailing Walls. With Lantern Haze devices, they slowly proceeded onward. Under a darkened sky, they listened for Midnight Murmurs from Gossamer Ghosts who enjoyed lurking on the bewitching night of Halloween. 

Erasure #1. Result after the blackout technique:

it's time. Wraths' Feast came. Voice lifted. Journey with lanterns slowly proceeded. Darkened sky listened. Midnight ghosts lurking on Halloween. 

Erasure #2. Burnout leads to a haiku.

It's time wraith came

voices journey listen

night ghosts lurk

  Draft CVarsalona, Halloween 2025, burning haibun

Oh, what fun it is to capture Halloween Eve, especially since this year I am homebound with a fractured ankle. My boot and walker chair are my costume for a chilly night at home.

Please understand that I have been on slow-go movement since last week.

A Day to Remember Forever

Did you hear the bell ring for the 9/11 fallen heroes yesterday? 24 years ago, New York City first responders, police, firemen, and newscasters flooded the streets and the media with traumatic news. People ran from their buildings under a shower of dust and darkness. Cement covered the streets as people tried to find a passage over the Brooklyn Bridge. While I did not witness all of this in person, I felt the weight of fear and grief as did the Village of Rockville Centre in Long Island, New York, where I lived. 

Forty-nine people in my village died during the 9/11 catastrophe. The Patch news named it the "deadliest terror attack on American soil". Of those people, Cantor Fitzgerald, American financial services firm, lost the most lives, one of whom was the mother of my daughter's senior high school friend. Because their friend suffered such a loss, my daughter and her two friends organized a candlelight vigil parade. Three hundred people gathered together. Tears flowed throughout this silent passage from the high school througout the village. For a long while life was worrisome. Memorials were erected so people could remember that horrible day in 2001 and be hopeful about the future. 

I remember September 11th each year and so does the world. Families  gather together to honor their fallen loved ones. A bell tolls like the sound of grief. Names of 9/11 victims are read as tears flow like water. Now life continues with a different thought. It is the time to bind the world together as a connected global society. Rid the world of hatred and unkindness to find peace.

September 11th

unpredicable hatred 

swept across the sky

New York City was attacked

fear and sorrow opened their channels

to all fallen heroes

draft CVarsalona, 9/11/2025, cherita

Listen to Fallen Heroes (9-11)

Hope for Tomorrow

Bind the human race into

a connected global society

with hatred extinguished

and unity established.

©CVarsalona, 2025 quick write draft

Thank you to author, poet, and educator, Rose Cappelli, for hosting the Poetry Friday Roundup today. She added Mary Oliver's poem that can be a call to action.

Barefoot At the Beach

On my family's journey to celebrate my husband's life, I was touched by the beauty of nature, longed for the ocean dancing beyond the beach, and felt a feeling of family togetherness. Looking back on life, I realized that sunshine and the beach were an important part of my marriage. We gathered there with family and friends, listened to concerts, and walked barefoot in the sand. My daughter's wedding took place in a beautiful church, St. Mary of the Isles, a block away from the ocean, so it made sense that one way to honor my husband was to be near the Atlantic Ocean. 

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet

and the winds long to play with your hair."  

- Kahlil Gibran (one of our favorite authors)

 

Barefoot At the Beach

standing still on the edge of the shore

I watch children bobbing in and out

like the dolphins in the far distance

flood currents splash to shore

in a rhythmic pattern

sand castles whoosh away and

footprints in the sand dissolve as

the ebb and flow of waves arrive

hidden in my soul, grief lies waiting

for the ocean to wash away sorrow

and the sun to dry the tears

barefoot we stand honoring

the husband, father, and grandfather

who loved us all

©CV, September 2025

Reflective Memory

I walk barefoot

as many others do

along the shore of wet sand.

I listen to cool, lapping waters

create a solemn, sacred moment.

Mindfully, I pause.

My mind and body calm down.

Anxiety lessons, knowing that

healing will be a slow,

God-blessed process

during the journey of life.

©CV, September 2025

This month, the Spiritual Journey group of writers under the leadership of Linda Mitchell is writing to a singular word, barefoot. The prompt is simple and timely for me since my family has been lovers of the ocean, shore, and sand for decades. To honor my husband's life, my small family traveled to three beaches facing the Atlantic Ocean: Cape May, the South Shore of Long Island, and Coney Island. The journey was filled with multiple therapeutic moments.

I borrowed the beautiful logo for Poetry Friday from Margaret Simon, host of the Poetry Friday Roundup. The picture brings me to another slow-down, calming moment or two. Margaret offers a love poem to silence that is lovely enough for several reads.

Pause & Reflect on the Spiritual Journey

I have been on a journey of growth both physically and spiritually for many decades. Each decade brings a different perspective on life. It has not been a smooth journey, but I have weathered many storms with family support, faith, and hope. Today, I look backward to pause and reflect. I restyled one of Linda Mitchell's clunker exchange lines, "You listening/my face deep in shadowed spaces", to embed in the following free verse poem.

When the moon's soft light

shines through an inked sky,

I pause to reflect.

My face deep in

shadowed spaces releases

troubling thoughts to

float in celestial silence.

Are you listening?

I wait on the Lord

for guidance.

@CVarsalona, 2024

The following inspirational quote from Henri Nouwen guided me as I worked on the June prompt for the Spiritual Journey Community, thanks to our host, Karen Eastlund.

"The spiritual life is not a life before, after, or beyond our everday existense. No, the spiritual life can only be real when it is lived in the midst of pains and joys of the here and now."

A Backward Look

On January 4, 2024, I announced my one word, pause. Initially, I retraced my steps to determine how to slow down my life. From late January to February, I developed a sinus/respiratory issue. By the time April arrived, I was scheduled for hernia surgery. I tried to breathe in the essence of spring to calm my spirit. Then, several more medical findings caused more unexpected stress. Two rare hernias were found. The first surgery led to a knick in the bladder which meant a repair surgery was needed.

A simple surgery ended with a complication and an ICU stay. Shortly after the second surgery, I was moved to the medical wing where three more infections occurred. One was contagious so I was isolated. Two and a half weeks later, I was discharged with a Foley Catheter and home health care. Needless to say, I am exhausted by the experience but I realize that trust in the Lord, self-care, and a positive attitude are important.

Thank you, Karen, for offering a prompt, look into the past for something that has shaped or inspired our current spiritual practice or outlook, that lets me intentionally pause and reflect on my spiritual journey. No matter how challenging my journey  has been lately, it encourages me to: 

1. Get stronger through walks and simple exercises.
2. Review my past to approach everyday life with a new mindset.
3. Continue believing in the power of God, faith, medicine, and hope.         

Below is an inspirational Bible verse that seems meant for me. 

I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you. - Psalm 32:8

It's Time to Rethink Unpacking

After a round of unpacking and arranging the shelves in my master bathroom, I  finally take the time to sit down and reflect. I am exhausted, frustrated, and still not finished sorting and organizing. Tomorrow will be Day 3 of arranging just this one room. How did I get through the packing stage without crumbling? Perhaps, it was the deadline of moving day that became the incentive. Now the routine of constant unpacking is getting to me. Friends are telling me to take my time and understand that these moments, days, weeks are stressful. As I think that I had no words to express my feelings, these thoughts flowed out.

It's time to rethink unpacking. 

The obsessive routine haunts

My dreams, wakes me wondering.

It's time to stop the merry-go-round.

Find my center, undo the stress, relax.   

While thinking these thoughts, I googled poems on unpacking and found a very interesting one by Thom Gunn, "Thoughts on unpacking".

Unpacking in the raw new rooms, I clear,

Or try to clear, a space for us, that we
May cultivate an ease of moving here
With no encumbrance near,
In amplitude. But something hinders me:

Where do these go, these knick-knacks I forgot?
—Gadgets we bought and kept, thinking perhaps
They might be useful someday, and a lot
Of others that were not:

Bent keys, Italian grammars, Mickey Mouse caps.

You can read the rest here. I read the last stanza to my husband.

In the stillness, I decide to the quiet voice inside and start anew with a renewed spirit. I will clear a space for us because my little granddaughters will be here in the morning and I am ready for a day of pure fun.

This is a combined slice of life post for both Poetry Friday Roundup and March SOLSC! #SOL21.

Poetry Friday hosted by a poetry colleague, Susan Bruck who is honoring National Poetry Month Kidlithosphere Roundup by collecting special projects from Poetry Friday poets.

Day 25 of Two Writing Teachers' March SOLSC! #SOL21, March Musings 2021