She was a hoarder, mom
saving pebbles and coins
random pictures and art.
collected, gathered, saved
With her glass in my palm
I recall the layers of dust
onto maps and the charts
for the stuff that she craved
Now in heaven, no qualms
she stuffs her infinite space
with goods filling her carts
happy now in her grave.
Dead my mother is calm
never with things, she’ll part.
Not my mother’s home
Today Mish hosts dVerse Poetics and asks us to write a poem to commemorate a loved one you have lost in celebration of the dia de los muertos. In Sweden this is celebrated on Saturday when we have all saints day. I can also say that I have written the poem in a form called Bref Double, which we will all write in Thursday when I host MTB.
November 1, 2022
Björn Rudbergs writings 
A beautiful tribute and remembrance of your mom Bjorn. You sketch her uniqueness so lovingly. Thanks for the note on the form as well – I will try this on Thursday.
it feels to me that you’ve really brought her character to life, Björn ~ I can imagine all of this so vividly…
~David
A great poem for your mother. She sounds like a most interesting person with a great variety of interests. Well done!
A haunting poem Bjorn
Well done
the infinite space.
profoundly beautiful.
I think there is much unwrapped within the brevity of this piece. Dust gathers to be swept away, but memories gather for good.
What a beautiful, vivid tribute, Björn. She comes alive in your words.
Thanks for the example, would make much easier to write.
A beautiful tribute to your mom’s love of remembering the moments and possibilities in life.
My grandmother was a huge believer in dusty shelves, remembering to clean when the mood struck ~~ this poem (love the form) reminds me of her .. how much I loved her.
Yes, been there also, and seen it all!
You’ve brought her to life here.
My dad (79) is the same way. My mom jokes that we’re gonna need a bulldozer to clean it all out someday.