You stood there under bricks that formed a bow,
I saw you there, before you came my way,
before you were my life, already so
you were a part of me, and you will stay.

We haven’t lived before, I can’t believe
some hundred years ago we too were here,
us being lovers then; that’s so naïve,
a love through time that would not disappear?

But still you know me and I know you too,
and when you talk, it’s like I’ve always known
the words you say, the moves, the things you do
as an eternity to call our own.

You stood there under bricks that formed a bow,
before you were my life, already so.


Comments on: "In another life I knew you" (24)

  1. Very nice. You put eternity in our grasp, and did so beautifully.

  2. ghostwriter1348 said:

    Beautiful and flowing 🙂

  3. Awesome and wonderful Ina!

  4. before you were my life, already so. I have felt this way about some relationships

    • 🙂 Maybe some souls reconnect in different lives. I can’t really believe it, but who knows 🙂

  5. I’m always pleased to see someone tackle a sonnet.

    • Hi Marie, it is a nice challenge to make formal poems, but I am not sure I got the meter right.

      • Well, you have, but I have to say that if you concentrate too hard on that aspect of writing a sonnet, it will come to dominate the finished article. I have been involved in the editorial side of sonnets for several years now (as well as having written many myself). I can honestly advise that iambic pentameter is not meant to be the thud of marching feet, but a ripple.

        If you consider Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’, you’ll find that it’s written in such a way that you don’t notice the meter, yet it’s there:

        Listen to Ted Hughes reading it, and you’ll see what I mean:

        Here’s an old poem of mine, It’s a ‘three-sixty degree wreath sonnet’, written mainly for the sound of its words rather than the sense. It is an intricate form, but that mean that I had to lighten the stresses of the pentameter to make it subtler.

        Autumn Leaves

        You silly, swirling, milling autumn leaves,
        Leave off your flitting patter at my window,
        My window-panes, my shutters, and my eaves;
        Eaves-dropping at your scattering and winnow –
        Your winnowing with wind-raked hull and must –
        Must pitter-pat my senses with new sorrow;
        For sorrow lengthens when the year is dust.
        Dust-swirls that sweep my York-stone path tomorrow
        With morrow’s whorls and berries’ jumble there,
        Their crinkle and their crackle for the barrow;
        I’ll barrow them away, good crop and tare,
        And tear at them with rake and race and harrow!
        This harrowing of wind and husks bereaves –
        Bereft the trees – you milling, autumn leaves.

        I hope you don’t mind my hi-jacking the thread for a discussion on sonnets. 🙂


  6. Lovely Ina.

    Sometimes it feels we must have been here before, that we have known someone “before”. Those feelings are few and far between I think which of course makes them so special. Thats what rhe poem said ro me anywAy. 🙂

    And you not only delivered the poem beautifully but made a sonnet too!!

    L&H xx

    • Hi Christine, it does feel like that, doesn’t it 🙂 I wonder if it is our mind that plays tricks on us, or that perhaps we could really have lived before. Sounds too good to be true 🙂 Thank you very much! L&H xx

  7. As always much to enjoy here. That third verse is like a lovely smooth velvety drink

  8. Ina,

    You are writing some wonderful poems at the moment.

    I just regret that I cannot comment on all of them but sitting at my computer is still causing me great discomfort so I have to limit my time.

    Just be aware that I am still reading, enjoying and appreciating your work

    With much love

    • Hi David,

      I am delighted to see your comment 🙂 thank you very much for taking the trouble.
      It means a lot to me that you, one of the first to ever read my English poems, is still reading them 🙂
      Please take good care of yourself and get well soon!

      With much love ♥

      Arohanui 🙂

  9. A sonnet Ina! I love sonnets. This has echoes of a poem Ethel wrote called, “And Where Have I come?” a number of years ago. It is an wonderful as that poem is. This is the strongest of the stanzas:
    But still you know me and I know you too,
    and when you talk, it’s like I’ve always known
    the words you say, the moves, the things you do
    as an eternity to call our own.
    The third stanza, building toward the climax of the final two lines in a Shakespearean sonnet, should always be the strongest, but that’s not always easy to manage. Good work.

    • Hi Thomas, I hope you are doing well. How nice to see your generous comments again 🙂 Thank you very much !

  10. ‘You stood there under bricks that formed a bow,
    before you were my life, already so.’

    What beautiful lines! I do believe in a love through time that does not disappear. I have experienced it, and still am living it … and wondering how the next lifetime will bring ‘us’ together.

    But, I love the blend of belief and doubt in this … that is what makes it so effective. Through doubt the truth becomes more reliable, I think. 🙂 XO ♥

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