Ingmar poems on Hello Poetry

Nat Lipstadt May 2013

S3

Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm

Somewhere in my body,
A bifurcated clock ticks,
Two clock faces,
White on black,
Vice versa.

Mixed media messages,
Crazy train station internal,
Brain activity fevered,
Arrive/depart according to
Somebody else's schedule,
Somebody else occupying,
Every street of my body

Lying asleep,
Typing these words,
It is the middle of the night,
Bright daylight suffuses the room
What part of my metaphysical schema,
Ain't jet lagged legally,
And poetically entitled to be
Stockholm Syndrome Confused?

Times have really changed,
Oh my, when you propose,
Let's go to Stockholm,
Anything goes!

So my schedule reordered
In the land of either all
Light or Dark, twenty hours four,
I turn to my boon companion,
Who soothes at any hour,
My music, my Nano,
And I find myself, musically,

Shuffling in Stockholm.

Meatloaf and Piazzolla,
Muddy Waters and Purple Rain,
Marvin Gaye and Pink Martini,
Beethoven, Straight No Chaser,
Beatles, Stones, Bennett vs. Buble,
The lack of sleep a permanent fixture,
Courtesy of this Bach-us admixture,

So should you see a gappy, khaki, clad tourist,
Meandering o'er the islands of this charming city,
In Ingmar Bergman fashion,
Black and white erratic,
Alternating, swaying and shuffling,
No tongue clucking,
Nah, he's not drunken,
Just dancing while sight seeing,
In a sleep deprived manner,
Someday a movie to be,
Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm
A/K/A
S3

June 30 ~ July 2, 2012
Stockholm, Sweden

Mike Essig Apr 2015

A Few People I'd Like To Have Lunch With When I'm Dead

Dead people are no doubt bored, so I'm sure these folks would be happy for free food and conversation. Of course, this is just a partial list, subject to addition and deletion. Feel free to add your own in comments.

Buddha, but a light lunch.
Jesus, but kosher of course.
******, come on, who wouldn't.
James Joyce, just to mock him.
George Washington, to try to catch him in a lie.
Hemingway, but just for drinks.
Reagan, to deliver some Depends.
Bakunin, for mutual aid.
William Butler, my ancestor who survived The Wheatfield at Gettysburg.
Audrey Hepburn, but a date, not lunch.
Ingmar Bergman, just to cheer me up.
Ervin Schrödinger, about that cat.
Shakespeare, because I've always wanted to meet an extra-terrestrial.
Ezra Pound, to tell him he was right about usury.
God, to let her know how disappointed I am.
Richard Nixon, so I could drive a stake through his heart.
Julia Child, just to hear her voice again.
Lenin, because he was a self-starter.
Mozart, because he would be fun.
Emma Goldman, to dance.
James Dean, as we look so much alike.
Janis Joplin, because I might get lucky.

Come on, I'm sure you can add to the list. Don't be shy, try.

mce

Who would you add? It can be anyone but Justin Bieber. I'm open-minded for a geezer, but not that much. :) Anyway, they must be dead. That's the only rule.

#list #lunch

Levi Joshua Modin Mar 2019

Psychoanalysis

Over and over again

the ongoing psychosis named reality

throws at us the vile complications of existence

like a rigged tax funded snowball war in which you are forced to enroll

when you are born among proletarians

and concrete orphans more twisted than Oliver Twist

like ghetto kids with knives and narcotic nights

men that walk the same sidewalk as you

the same asphalt dreams and latent ambitions

trapped in the same staircase of materia

causing the universe to circle reason

and stomp the ant man with work boots of international negligence

like something out of an Ingmar Bergman film

as the saints will prevail like the flickering candle in an artic snow lantern

battling it’s ice ceiling like flying intifada rocks in glass houses

while the chess game of psychoanalysis continues

like the sorrows of young Werther

in the blood of your martyred nightmares

#psychoanalysis

LannaEvolved Mar 2021

An Endowment of Hope

Ingmar Bergman scenes and Jewel’s poetic dreams figurative memes spilled like ashes across the page to be holy, unheavy, and alive is a granted feeling of being on high

Like God, he told me, only words get washed away if not kept sacred

Inside the blood and the host
irrevocably so
Whatever blindness calls itself
There was nothing left to be said
And so I dropped that filthy knife

Hot with the stain erased spilling on its face cooled by a star

I am not in the creator’s mind
I found the him within me

The ageism and the orientation of today’s world is met with chaos from the stories of so many...
How do we move on from such loss?

I don’t need new age *** or dates with the illusion of a soulmate that follow what the tarot’s say I need to make me happy today

I lost someone, I lost something, and that is enough to feel it.
We are not here to deny another’s pain

Death’s foreshadowing pretenses could never prepare for a dream
Filled with the hollowness of holiness and shallow breath
Makes a night of manipulation evaporate

A year later, I sang as I carried myself away
I went the mile
I walked to the depths
3 years later to the date
April 20th

The day I released all of the hurt I chained
To my self worth as a bad dream
As an epiphany of the love I wanted
Like a little girl
Lost and waiting on the front porch looking out towards the sky wondering when the truth of my own love would come
Someday..
To lose hope in intervals treading for reciprocity was the garden gate I needed to find myself anew

What I once feared was in me, was never in me and I yet the idea was at the same time

Strong diligence makes the heart grow that much more aligned to what creates your will, your beautiful will; a peaceful manifesto of a great new world

#hope #resilience #loss #life #strengthmakesyoumore

Mary Gay Kearns Sep 2019

Women - sounds, scents and shapes.

Ingmar Bergman externalisés by
Using women in his films to
Understand himself.
The two sides of himself.
So much of myself and my awareness
Of the graces of women come from my
Mother. The way my father treated
My mother was an sustaining influence too.

I remember my mother’s grey curly hair,
large ******* hanging like two full plums.
As she washes in the bathtub
Rounded belly, dark, floating, soapy ***** hair
Mother is forty - four.

Taking me into *******, softly, quietly
Mysteriously, my ******* are budding, two pink *******
A pretty navy padded brassière to wear under my blouse
When I go to school. This blouse is nylon and translucent
Womanhood that wet place of secret
sounds, scents and shapes.

Thank you mum for helping me to become a woman to take into my ****** form and become all that I did,Love you.

Love Mary xxxx. Your daughter.

Mary Gay Kearns Sep 2019

Women

Women - sounds, scents and shapes.
Ingmar Bergman externalisés by
Using women in his films to
Understand himself.
The two sides of himself.
So much of myself and my awareness
Of the graces of women come from my
Mother and father.The way my father treated
My mother was a sustaining influence too.

I remember my mother’s grey curly hair,
large ******* hanging like two full plums.
As she washes in the bathtub
Rounded belly, dark, floating, soapy ***** hair
Mother is forty - four.

Taking me into *******, softly, quietly
Mysteriously, my ******* are budding, two pink *******
A pretty navy padded brassière to wear under my blouse
When I go to school. This blouse is nylon and translucent
Womanhood that place of secret
sounds, scents and shapes.

Thank you mum for helping me to become a woman to take into my ****** form and appreciate it and become all that I did.

Love Mary , Your daughter. Love you ..

TOD HOWARD HAWKS Sep 2020

SLEEP

We spend roughly one third of our lives asleep. What does that mean? I suppose that means different things to each of us, things that are different, but at the same time, in all cases integral to our lives, variations on the same thing, if you will. Freud thought that one-third was the most important of all three. Many of us find our dreams are meaningful, not necessarily in a clinical way, but in a personal way, and therefore meaningful nonetheless. Perhaps surreal is an apposite word to use in the latter cases: former girlfriends, in my case, appear in many of my dreams, sometimes erotically, other times in a symbolic way it seems. Other dreams appear enigmatically, ones that are hard to tell what their import is; they are not unlike clips from Ingmar Bergman movies. Some people say they never dream; my guess is that they do, but for unknown reasons, they unconsciously repress them all, easier, I suspect, for them for various reasons. Pedro Calderon de la Barca wrote LA VIDA ES SUENO (LIFE IS A DREAM). Perhaps he had the answer.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, an essayist, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.

#dreams

Qualyxian Quest Aug 2020

Swedish sweet wish

Max von Sydow on Ingmar Bergman's telling him he would communicate with Max after death to show him we do survive:

I have heard from him many times.

jan oskar hansen Jan 14

Sweden Today

Sweden today

What happened to Sweden throwing off her neutrality like it was an old overcoat and to make matters worse joining old NATO, that is a moribund military organization.
I remember Ingrid Bergman, a great actress when I see her, I wonder, why Ricky had
a nightclub in Casablanca
There were many famous Swedes, such as Alfred Nobel, and Ingmar Bergman, and not forget Birgitte Nielsen married to an actor named Rocky Stalone, a screen hero
I remember Malmo where I bought coffee cups
With flowers on, now this town is full of angry belligerent Islamists wanting to enforce Shari law and run around with big knives
Of course, there is the forever teenager Greta Thunberg who wears a permanent scowl when marching in protest against the EU or if not something else; one wishes, she would fall in love, have *** with a young man, and go back to school

— The End —