JOANNA SVENSSON
Life Is
Spirituality
Life is spiritual
Only to those who
listen
Listen to the
words of the Maker
To the words that
were programmed
Already in our
hearts and in our thoughts
One shouldn’t
walk
Beside oneself
Excusing actions
of faith
Being the will of
the Maker
For it is in fact
he
He who have given
us all
Our own and free
will
And power to
decide
So it’s therefore
that we
We and no one
else
Must take our own
responsibility
For what we do
and how we act
As long as I can
remember
Actually ever
since I was born
From that day on
Through early
childhood
I felt the
presence
Of spirituality
in my life
I saw the picture
clearly
In the reflection
of
My mirror of life
I saw what’s good
for my soul
Yes, I saw
already then
All richness
coming from above
And I learned
everything
About the gifts
of nature
So I took all of
this in
And nursed it all
and gave it back
I also showed
entirely
My own true
gratitude
And always shared
with others
Everything that I
knew
I knew already
then
All the mysteries
of life
Lust like in a
closed circle
There is a
meaning with everything!
The White Rose
There are many
White roses
In this world
There are many
Who have a strong
And lovely smell
Many of them
Have caught my
eye
But very few
Have touched my
heart
So strong and
intense
with its
fragrance so subtle
The fragrance
that penetrate
the words
The words
that become a
poem
The poem
that touches all
feelings
the feelings
that awakes all
senses
When I see the
white rose bleeding
with the red tears
of love
That’s when I
want to hide
Hide myself in my
own poems
Where all symbols
speaks
Their clear and
direct language
Where all
feelings can bloom
For the sake of
the white rose
There are many
white roses in the world
But only one that
has deeply touched my heart
With its
innocent, white color!
The Man With
White Frost In His Beard
In our garden -
early one morning
I see the man of
December
Every season has
its keeper
He is sitting on
a stub
Dressed in a coat
so white
The morning sun reflects
itself
In his bushy
frosty beard
His thick white
frock
His fur cap and
his bag
At first I
thought
He was a stranger
That had lost
himself
In our wilderness
But then I
realized
He comes around
Sent by winter
This time each
year
He wears a fur
cap
Made out of pure
fog
That the northern
wind
Has woven
A bushy beard
Made of pure
white frost
That the frozen
dew
Has kissed
In my –‘---‘-
dreams
I have already
seen him
High up in the
Universe
Walk along the
Milky Way
Made of pure
white frost
Inside his big,
white robe
Snowflakes are
glittering
And thousands of
diamonds
Of frozen morning
dew
Outside maybe
cold and frozen
But in his heart
so warm and true
He knew exactly
Where he was
headed
He knew just when
The time was
right
And now he’s sitting
On his stub in
our garden
Just like times
passed
This time each
year
He knows
That I’ve been
waiting
And he knows
I understand
And I know
That he will
bring
All good balance
In nature calm
On his shoulder
A huge old sack
All filled with
fresh
And frozen snow
Of warmth his
eyes
They just do
glitter
Just like beacons
Of peace itself
He talks to the
birds
The birds/robins
in the trees
He talks to the
deers
The deers on the
meadow
He talks about
the passing
Of nature and
time
I am the man of
December
And I am here to
secure
Nature’s rest
after (a) stormy fall
Before all life
in spring
Will shoot forth
anew
Although it
outside
Is all cold and
windy
Although it
outside
Sometimes even
snows
It is still in
balance
And he do seem
pleased
With all that he
sees
In our garden so
dear
The trees
(all)tell him stories
About blooming
and greenness
About late
summer’s harvests
And of ‘-----‘-‘
‘---
The man of
December
Makes notes in
his book
Everything
thorough
‘Bout the passing
of nature
Then he gets up
And walks around
in our garden
And he seems
really happy
With all things
around
So he spreads a
thick cover
Of leaves and
home-made frost
He blesses and
grants the earth
Its winter rest
and peacefulness
Then he slowly
covers
Each bush and
every tree
Each flower-field
and meadow
So that all of
nature
Will safely be
tucked in
Until next year’s
dawn
Next year’s dawn
of spring
Now everything in
our garden
Is so
breathtakingly calm
Just like a deep
breath
Waiting to exhale
Prepared for its
winter-rest
Prepared for its
winter-sleep
To set the nature
at peace
And to let it
regain itself
To regain – to
rejoice
To be able to
wake up
To a life all
anew
To a new spring
once more!
© Joanna Svensson
In The Land Of
Bright Light
In the land of
brightest light
I have clearly
seen
Sparkling
raindrops blooming
And hearty poems
flying
Carried by
butterfly wings
The wind I have
seen
Dressed in a
colorful mantle
Meant for
eternity
Waiting there for
me
Standing on the
top of a hill
From there he
showed me the world
Laying deep down
below us
Swept in a light
blue veil
A veil that was
connected
Connected with
the city of light
Connected by the
glowing road of light
He did not say a
single word
But still I
understood
For I could sense
his silent words
Through his melodic
humming
I sensed his
seasonal melody
Like so many
times before
When in my garden
I often sat
Contemplating
over my life
My life and all
its meaning
And all what goes
around
And all that
comes around
He often sent me
messages
Through all the
seasons here
Remembering early
springs
With butterflies
and flowers
And gentle
juvenile green
That’s when
windows of life
Were opened once
again
Through the soft,
warm nights of summer
Towards ripe and
prosperity
With falling
leaves of autumn
And sighs of
golden longing
Then winter’s
shimmering flakes of snow
Tapping on
windows of repose
I felt myself
swept by happiness
I felt a strong
connection
And drawn towards
the land of light
The earth just
suddenly felt
So tiny and so
distant
Out there in the endless
universe
I saw my lucky
star of light
Shining ever so
bright
There in my
calendar of life
Way up in the
vault of heaven
I often sense the
nearness
Of the city of
light above
When whispers of
weakness and doubts
Darkens my way of
thinking
When meaning and
intention
Of life I do
debate
Then for my inner
sense
I see the town of
light
Right there in
the land of brightness
Where for the
very first time I saw
The sparkling
raindrops blooming
Where I saw my
poems take flight
With butterfly’s
swiftly wing beats
Towards the
eternal light!
In Another Time
In the old
enchanted castle
There’s an old
enchanted mirror
Anyway, it feels
As if there was
When sunset tips
around
My little
peaceful cottage
Once again I feel
Like standing
right in front of it
And all of a
sudden
I sense I am
transformed
Into the Lady of
the castle
A Lady in another
time
Now the time has
totally stopped
And the mirror
has turned around
Instead of moving
forward
The clock is
ticking backwards
Now the time has
stopped
And it takes a
deep breath
-Such a lovely
time it is! it says
-I think I’ll say
a little while!
-I want to rest
here and now.
-If only just for
a tiny moment.
From an
illuminated inner room
I hear husky
voices speak
In an old dialect
they are debating
Its voices I know
so well
The rhythm of the
language
Brings my
childhood back to me
In the background
a brittle cembalo
Is playing
childhood melodies
And the
fragrances are so intense
Of roses I do
remember
From the garden
of the castle
Plucked in utmost
secret there
I place my arm –
at once I see
In the reversed
mirror of time
I am there –
facing the castle mirror
Yes, I am here –
but in another time!
JOANNA SVENSSON
JOANNA
SVENSSON is a Swedish
poet, writer and novelist. She has been
writing and publishing her works ever since her early teens. As a poet she has at present eight books of
poetry of which The Seven Colors of my Life is published in the USA (in English
and Arabic) in 2019 and De sju färgerna i mitt liv in Sweden (in Swedish) in
2020 and Czas Bez Dat; published in
Polish in 2019. Longing (Sehnsucht) is a poetry collection in two parts (in
German) published 2007 and 2008. As a writer she has published two large
fiction novels The Secret of the Medallion and The Key to Heaven in a trilogy.
The third one on the other Side of the Door is ready for publishing in
2021. Beside a new poetry collection Beyond the
Tears of Rain, two other projects are in progress at the moment: A collection
of 10 short stories Behind the Green Curtain, and a childrens-book, illustrated
by her husband Per Josefsson, who is a professional translator, graphic
designer and illustrator. Fluid in three languages, she writes in
Swedish, German and Polish. Her husband translates all of her work to english.
She is a member of the Swedish Author Society and The Society of Polish Writers living abroad.
Has participated in several anthologies over the years and achieved many
acknowledgements for her prose and poetry.
Her books are available at Akademibokhandeln and at BOKUS and at the
Royal Library in Stockholm. In 2019 she was awarded 1:st prize at the Bucharest
International Festival of Literature for her first novel “The Secret of the
Medallion” which is now being translated into English. She is also very active in both Swedish and
Polish literary society and she participates in several international prose-
and poetry festivals around the world.
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