"oma" poems
(Published in Miami Herald on May 26, 2014 Brigitte Jacobs Arnold
Obituary Guest Book View Sign ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI. Services will be held at 7:00 pm and a viewing from 12:00 pm to 8:00pm at Maspons Funeral Home located at 3500 SW 8th Street, Miami Florida 33135 Wednesday May 28th.)
Don’t ask me why but
I went online this afternoon.
Read the Miami-Herald obituaries.
And not just the Biggies:
Maya Angelou at 86 and
A one hundred year old Herb Jeffries.
Of course we knew Maya,
Her caged bird singing
Softly in our souls,
But may not be aware of Herb Jeffries.
A former singer in the Ellington band,
Herb was known as the Bronze Buckaroo,
In a series of all-black 1930s Westerns--
His nickname evoking
His racial identity,
Quite muddled, flexible.
Although both sad passages to be sure,
It was neither Maya nor Herb
Triggering my tender tears.
But the obituary of:
ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI,
Known as Oma, Mutti and Mama.
Well, not exactly the Brigitte obit,
My tears for her long-lived mother,
Brigitte’s mother, durable & abiding,
Still breathing at 97:
Hildegard Wolle.
Reading Brigitte’s bio—
German born, Berlin student,
Singer-fashionista &
Proud, naturalized
American citizen—
I can’t stop thinking about Hildegard.
As if the woman didn’t already
Have more than her share of trouble
On this planet nearly a century,
Having already lost her
Grandson Roland, and now,
Her daughter.
Something wacky is going on here.
Some long-distance life lesson
Being applied here.
Poor Hildegard: ungifted with Alzheimer’s,
Suffers crystal distant memories,
Some really bad karma
Stored up in past lives.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Bounced
a mother figure
to two, a name
on a Christmas card
to four
when I realised
I was still a
child
and bitterness
wasn't an
option
I grew up
like a broken
nose
out of joint
Bounced
at the service
there are tears
beside me
I imagine a
body burning
and feel
warm
the lick of flames
on gray skin
my indifference
grows like I
imagine the
fire roaring
behind the curtain
heating up
Bounced
the house is
empty and
smells
unusual
like something has
been left in there
too long
they are not
there now but
it lingers
I tried to take
her dresses but
she was thinner
as a girl than
I am now
jealously
is a feeling
I'm familiar with
and it's easier
to understand
Bounced
we are waiting
for a buyer
and I imagine
how it feels
to have a piece
of your heart
trapped in bricks
and mortar
Bounced
one time,
I wanted to ask her
how it felt to
take notes of
the war
if she'd ever thought
of waving a white
flag and crumbling
drowning in the
rubble rain of
The Blitz
I wanted to hear
her say something
human
so I could
visualise and
see a bit of
her in myself
Bounced
I'm still caught up
on the autopsy
like a piece of
fatty tissue on
a scalapal
and my thoughts
are metal and
cold
the number of
zeroes on a
cheque
Bounced
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 5:36 AM UTC
No one born too far from Niedersachsen, said Oma,
ever quite captures their sing-song intonation.
Characterized by subtleties, like an umlauted vowel,
all non-native imitations sound inevitably as ******
as would a cry of “ello, guv’nah!” in a London coffee shop.
Her Plattdeutsch instincts neutered
by decades abroad, married to a son of Milwaukee,
her permanent, dormant longing for Salzgitter awakes only
to trigger hunger pangs of irreconcilable nostalgia
at the passing whiff of a Germantown bakery.
She taught me the word “sehnsucht” over lukewarm coffee
and a pause in our conversation: a compound word
that no well-intentioned English translation
could render faithfully.
It isn’t the same as just longing, she sighed— longing is curable.
Sehnsucht holds the fragments
of an imperfect world and laments
that they are patternless. How the soul
yearns vaguely for a home
remembered only in the residual ache
of incomplete childhood fancies;
futile as the ruins
of an ancient, annihilated people.
How life’s staccato joys soothe
a heart sore from the world,
yet the existential hunger, gnawing
from the malnourished stomach
of the bruised human psyche, remains—
insatiable, eternal.
Long enough ago, a reasonably-priced bus ride away
from the red-roofed apartment in which she babbled her first words,
a kindly old man in a pharmacy asked her
about her peculiar, exotic accent. Once inevitably prompted
with the question of where she was from, she responded only
that she was a tourist off the beaten track.
And when I pointed out, to my immediate regret,
that she gets the same question back here in Ohio,
I realized then that, not once, has she ever referred to the way
the people of her pined-for hometown spoke
as though she had ever belonged to it.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
Beturikeš sleep in the middle of Germany. USS, Romania, Serbia, C. Using Maccaro Maguinda. Green Turkish Arabic Italian Export Marks Marcus Germany Roman legends are amino acids. 1 edition of "Beritania'amino Nā'akika -'amino Nā'akika ... which, to see Nikki, Pompey, Ram Lambinue Mont Blanc NJAC (Mont Blanc), Tiripolisa, United States, Brazil, China, Hawaii, United States "In Somalia, United States of America, Romania, Serbia, Romania, sad, knowing in the USA, Diego has lost the wall," meaning "landlords are Arab, Arabic Arno'ōma'oma'o , German, Thai, Italian लौरा LGBQLig Rich Roman Mount Cay England, United Kingdom, Romania, Science NJAC sufficiency, 11 new cases in my new Mont Blanc, Luembanii Hawaii American Tripoli Brazil, Uganda, Romania, Spain, Riya, Somalia, November, Switzerland, Germany, and now it is an adult man acid , Nā'akika D. was unhappy, sound United States, and Romania Purgatininigi -... "This popular Christian Democratic International, United Nations General Assembly, United States Marinca, Romania, Serbia, Roman race. Mango Mango lamp. Green Apap, Arno, Albanian, German, one Italian लौड़ा बक Light, Real Estate in Thai. In the Roman Empire I Pelekāne'amino nā'akika lock in the UK, "no idea" Hey, Romania, Luembinnogo Mont Blanc Custom NJAC (Mont Blanc), Brazil, United States Tripoli China, Hawaii, Uganda, Romania, Spain, Italy, Somalia , November 11th ... - Laws Act, Germany, Law on Germany, Now A Man, 'Amino Dictionary D. On the contrary, a spokesman for the Roman Latin America, the former Romanian-American ... even "Christian" has never been a Christian.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
My mother coloured your hair wet sand. My Nonno questioned me on your being, what colour your eyes are, your hair; he wants to meet you. One of the most important men in my life wants to sit with you and confound you with his Italian accent. He will likely offer you wine, ask you to come see the garden, take part in tasks my Oma has assigned, tell you about all the times we've broken his hammock, look at all the agates he and her have collected, he will tell you of me as a child, what I become in his embraces and through his songs. My Oma will talk to you sweetly, she will probably ask you about religion, I will not try to shield you of this, you could laugh, it would be alright. She will ask you about me, what are your favourite parts, what are your favourite parts. She will ask about what wonder you found in me; she will offer you blueberry pancakes, fried ham, maple syrup. You wonder so often why I told my parents, why my whole family knows of your existence. It is solely because you matter to me; because the more time I spend with you the more you become a part of me. And if I am to grow into another person, it is pertinent they see and know who it is I am growing to. Just as sitting with you and your brother in your basement is something to you as is my family seeing and knowing you. I want them to know that you are an ocean, wet sand and eyes like sea. There is nothing like you. The scent of you like sun and warmth and something drunken in. I wish I could swallow stacks of your picture just to keep you close to me only for a little while longer. There is so much of you that I want only for me.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
dude
they have this
giant blue
monolith
in their
bathroom
no i wasn't
high, maybe
sugar high
becca's
oma kept
offering me
cookies
like i was a
monster that
needed
sating
eventually
i was
screaming
at her:
no, oma, i
don't want
any more ****
cookies
not the
point, dude,
the monolith, you
shoulda seen this
thing i wanted to
worship it that's
how awesome it
was
becca said it
was modern art or some
**** maybe its
their god but then
why would
they put it in their
bathroom?
i guess if
you really love
somebody
you will let them
see you
*** smell your
****
thats true love
man
becca
come into the
bathroom
with me
becca
baby
we're going to
church
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 4:04 PM UTC
Verse 1
I look in, your room, thinking that I would see.
You there, in your bed, sitting up, and watching TV.
It’s still strange, at times.
When I walk in this room.
‘Cause it’s changed, a lot, since the day, you left.
And now, I think, it’s time, for me, to say.
That I, still wish, you were here.
Bridge
Cause you left me way too soon.
Going on is so hard without you.
I dream about you at night.
I still think about you all the time.
Why did you have to go?
Why did you give up on hope?
I know you missed him,
but now I have to miss you too.
Chorus
It’s not fair!
That you had to leave.
And now I’ll never see your face.
How did that seem, like the right thing to do?
Cause it’s been so hard here.
Without you.
Verse 2
I still, remember, that day.
When I woke, and heard, the news.
That you, had past, away.
And were taken out while I slept.
That day, I didn’t, cry.
Didn’t shed, a single, tear.
But that’s not because, I didn’t care.
It’s just that I don’t grief that way.
I smile whenever there’s pain.
Cause if I don’t.
Then I don’t know what else to do.
Bridge
Cause you left me way too soon.
Going on is so hard without you.
I dream about you at night.
I still think about you all the time.
Why did you have to go?
Why did you give up on hope?
I know you missed him,
but now I have to miss you too.
Chorus
It’s not fair!
That you had to leave.
And now I’ll never see your face.
How did that seem, like the right thing to do?
Cause it’s been so hard here.
Without you.
(Instrumental Break)
Different Bridge
I know, that it’s hard, when the one you love, is gone.
And I know you missed him so much.
But where did that leave us?!
Where did that leave me?!
Why was it time to leave?!
You could’ve gotten better!
That’s how I feel!
You could’ve gotten back your strength!
Why didn’t you…?
Wait.
Verse 3
What, am I doing?
Thinking this, could’ve been , avoided.
This didn’t, happen, overnight.
It happened, as the, days passed.
I know, you were, growing weak.
And I know, that you, were in pain.
But I still think, that I, should say.
That I, still wish, you were here.
Bridge Again
Chorus
It’s not fair! (It wasn’t fair)
That you had to leave. (That you had to leave that day)
And now I’ll never see your face. (I’ll never see your face)
How did that seem (how did that seem), like the right thing to do? (Like the right thing to do)
Cause it’s been so hard here. (It’s been so hard here)
Cause it’s been so hard here. (It’s been so hard here)
Cause it’s been so hard here!
Without….
You.
Oooh….
Without you.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Images flash as I stand
alone
in Oma's house
The things are here
the remainders of a life well lived
But the animating force
The life itself
is no more
There will be no more gatherings
No more raucous debates about
football or politics
No more screaming kids or blaring music.
The life has left this place
But not the love.
I can still smell her
My heart tells me this will fade
So I drink in all that I can to keep her with me
forever.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 2:13 PM UTC
It's been a year since you left
and I still miss you a lot.
I'll always miss how much
fun we had together.
I'll miss you forgetting me
my name since I look like mom.
How you would have cartoons
playing in your room.
I know that it was due to your
memory problem.
But it was still good 'cause it
let me know that it wasn't a bad thing.
But I'll never say on here what I watch
when I'm in my room.
That's for my family to know.
But I will say that you watched some
cartoons that I've loved since I was 5.
Thanks for filling me with happy
memories and funny moments.
For saying things that made me both
confused and laugh at the same time.
Thanks for always being supportive
of me and my choices.
Thanks for doing what you were
supposed to when I asked you too.
Thanks for being there when I hurt
my knee.
Even though, there was nothing
that Obama could've done to help lol
Thanks for asking me to sing outside
your door and telling me that it was
wonderful.
And, you're right, Oma.
I'll never know how wonderful it was.
I never think that I have a good voice or
think that I can sing.
But it's nice to know that you loved me
and my voice.
Sorry I sang it in the hallway but my
shyness got the best of me.
But thanks for being patient and
listening to my songs.
You were a real inspiration to me and
I loved every second I got to spend w/ you.
Whenever I sing and listen to Miley Cyrus'
song, "I Miss You" I think of you.
I just wanted you to know how much I miss
and love you.
And I know that I'll be able to see you when
the time comes.
But until then, please keep watching me
from up above.
And I've never said this to anyone before.
But, I consider you and PaPou to be my
guardian angels.
I miss you and love you everyday.
Your great granddaughter,
Tash or (atleast once a day)
Manda <3 :)
RIP Oma
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Gender is such a fun game, Isn't it?
I remember as a kid I would play Wizard101 and in the beginning before creating a new
Character, you must establish if you were a
Boy.. Or a Girl.
I had one female wizard, and one boy wizard and in my mind, that was okay until
I showed my heavily religious grandparent the game.
She asked me why there was one boy character, and one girl character.
I told her it was my friends and she smiled, as if she were relieved.
The next sentence that spilled from her old ancient lips made me almost cry.
She smoothed her khakis and said
I was afraid you would say that they were both you, because you should only have a girl character.
And no, Oma, it was not my friend's character because in my mind, I wanted to be that boy character.
In my mind, I wanted to be that female character as well.
When I was Thirteen, I got a plaid shirt for Christmas. I put it on and my friends said
It made me look like a lesbian.
And only one of my friends said it looked good on me.
At that time, I was declaring myself "bisexual" finding both girls and guys
to be very attractive.
My favourite viner was a neutrois and I thought this was normal.
In fact, I wanted to cut my hair short and wear guy-ish clothes for a longtime.
So many people have told me that I must identify as "boy" or "male"
Or **** even "girl" and "female"
Well guess what.
I'm worth more than a ******* "Other" button.
So are other people.
People, humans.
That's what we are, isn't it?
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Naeratus su silmades,
Suunurgad paitamas kõrvu
On päike minu tedretähnidele
Sa vaikselt avad oma suu
Poetad hingetõmbe
Nii su mõtted juba mu kõrvuni jõudnud
Ilma,et oleksid midagi õelnud
Kas see tunne ongi
See ihatuim
Sest mina ihkan seda veel
Ja kui polegi nii
Vaid neil mõttes mõlgub muu
Siis siiski minul ei
Mõlgu
Midagi muud
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 6:10 AM UTC
Children are lucky because they have
A Grandma and a Grandmama
Nonna, Mhamó, Abuela, Bibi
Babcia, Giagiá, Avó, Oma
Nagymama, Mormor, or Kuku wahine
Are names of love for their Nan
O baachan, Babushka, Tutu, Halmeoni
Are certainly not names for a man
Ouma, Savta, Bubbi, Geema
Nai Nai, Nona, Gramms and more
Bomma, Mawmaw, Yaya, Nana
If I keep going you’ll think I’m a bore
All names for their Grandma
The one they adore
That special someone
Who’s love to the core
She plays with them, cuddles, and keeps them all warm
She feeds them, she rears them takes over the chore
But all of this just to say, lest we forget
Grandmas are LOVE LOVE LOVE and more
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Broke but beautiful, full of dreams.
Endearing and Adorable Selfless
as she seems.
In a complete darkness,she's a ray of light
She'd fall out of Clumsiness
But would always hold your hand tight.
Never would she let a frown come
on your face .
She'd always be around
whenever you need someone to embrace.
Her presence is what makes life Perfect
Her absence is always the hardest to neglect.
supports your dreams, helps you acquire.
She's a best friend.
She's a mother.
She's a wife.
She's a sister.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC
raw
green beans
this past afternoon
brought back
my Oma
full white apron on
in the kitchen
one summer
in Germany
decades ago
window wide open
to the garden
sitting at the table
busily breaking them up
together
for her delicious vegetable soup
I'm helping ,I'm helping
I said as they broke
in my little fingers
her soup
a mere memory
as she stopped making it
a lifetime ago
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 11:34 PM UTC
Overhead, the moon has spilled her pearl necklace onto the sky
A night's snowfall frozen in time.
She smells of aged lily of the valley perfume
that she saves for special occasions.
Around her, the sky is whispering Schumann,
Mondnacht, I think.
His celestial voice sails between constellations like a cloud
And the stars give one last wink.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC
If Ondo is used for settlers
And Ogun is a river
Tell me about Oyo, an empire
You mispell Gwosh as Jos
Recognised Sokoto, a market
Far away from Osun, a river
Lakes is to Lagos
As Kogin is to Kogi
And Kebbi is synonymous to Ka'abba
Janzama, women power inspired Katsina
But Kano was a Blacksmith
While Kaduna means Crocodile
The people of the golden soils of Jigawa
To the river Imo Mmiri
They don't speak Gombe at all
Take me to the hills of "Enu Ugwu"
Following the hills in "Okiti"
Without navigating through Iduu
All Ebonyi are "Aboine"
Close the Delta that marries the atlantic
And Oyono, makes you Cross River
Don't say Benue, say "Binuwe"
Balga, Yelga, Salga formed Bayelsa
And I love Kasashen Bauchi
"Anyim Oma Mbala kwenu!"
But I love ladies from "Kwa Iboe"
Only legends understands this
Tell them I told you
Adamawa is a warrior
While Abia is a coinage
If I missed your state
Go back to the history books
This is just a drill...
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 3:39 PM UTC
Dove dark chocolate
Black coffee with almond biscotti
Raspberries and Engstrom almond toffee
Oma I miss you
I’ll see you in 80 years, or so
Have a cup of mint tea for me
Rosemary and Malbec
Ginger snaps and lavender
Grandma why does my dorm room
Smell like old memories of you
I think I left my sunglasses on the dining room table
The last place I saw you
Dyed blond hair, gold necklace, and your sweet soft smile
You gave me your blue jacket
Perriwinkle blue raincoat
Oma it’s raining
I’m making you tea
Dove, deliver it safely to the clouds above me
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 11:49 PM UTC
Oma watching
television downstairs,
while blue room sheets
squared back in peels,
& honeysuckle's ladder
up the brickwork
reached like spring fingers
towards my window,
where in brown shadows
I saw foxes steal over
the crumbling drive,
& clouds crashed trees
atop deer eating lawn
where uncle's autos coruscated
in the tall wilds.
In that bed I came of age
with thoughts of women naked -
New candles ached
and led the way deeper
as they dripped
all across my adolescence.
Years bloomed inside me,
stones fell from the sky,
hard as *** fox bones
slept in the wood,
the televisions all sat,
idols on the lace,
flickering presses
that touched every wall.
The moon a wet thigh -
something sang,
& burrowed beneath the pillow.
Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 1:03 AM UTC