Category: POETRY


Emerge

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Q u i e t ~

Long steps—backward,

forward again,

c a u t i o u s l y.

Feel their every breath.

Strain inward. Release asthmatic clutch.

Fulfill the tale with a lungful

of enlightenment.

Haunted-minor-discernments.

Alluring torment.

Little tease.

Secrets want exposure –

the spotlight.

I am listening… listening…

 

To catch monsters in a jar,

build my empire.

The impetus: To realize its hold on me.

First, I will shake the hand,

embrace an old friend: A

colloquy of pleasantries.

Then with upmost politeness,

no offer to excuse myself, however –

Tear its heart out with my teeth,

swirl my tongue in satisfaction.

Lap up the residual effect:

Compensation!

The knowledge of everything

conquering death.

Toss it, blithely, into a miracle

of incandescent awareness.

Become like cherry sugar,

decadent syrup drizzled on the world:

My breast—its nipple heart,

the universe in my cornea,

all the answers grown from follicles,

a planet scalp—beautiful auburn.

Smash the paradox, ozone…

A big bang life!

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

Twisters

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Some days—

 

are fucking twisters.

 

Furious funnels

collecting tomorrows,

taking them for granted.

 

Hitting us in the face

with yesterdays,

memories that love and

hate us.

 

We keep ‘em either way.

 

Scream holy hell with regret

and smile gladly, it happened.

 

Today—

 

all these pieces

waiting to fall into place…

 

Here I am, a spiral

trying to find you,

 

to land with you,

 

or fall apart perfectly,

the same.

 

My friend,

over there in the traffic,

the pain, the pondering.

 

Emptiness here is

the same.

 

Reflecting back…

 

Maybe

it was a conversation.

 

A Chevy, racing.

Anywhere embracing madness

we thought may kill or save us.

 

A confident moon in July.

 

A street walked

a thousand times.

 

The stale warm Michelob

we shared.

A Marlboro taken from

behind your ear for a light.

 

The days we were fearless

and brilliant.

 

I can never grow old

with you, forever young,

in my heart.

 

God, I love you.

 

In the sound of music,

no matter what road,

the lyrics: We are so free.

 

Free—Jesus Christ!

We could go anywhere.

 

That’s exactly where

you’ll find me,

 

waiting,

laughter to receive you

home.

 

Rest assured:

All of our collected treasures,

broken dreams, right, wrong,

 

b e l o n g.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

(This poem was inspired by my friend, Joe, and for all of my closest friends through the turbulent teenage years that remain forever in my heart, wherever life takes us…I know, we know, those of us that will always shine a light for the other.) 

 

Lavender Garden

norfolk_lavender_garden_653_jpg_originalLetting go.

Your hand—a ghost.

 

The love: warm blood remains.

Will continue to pass through me.

 

Thump, thump…

the pounding empty chest,

swallowed down a burning throat.

 

Hold her willingness to stay. Please!

Nurture it like sweet breast milk.

I may become your solid foundation,

stone woman. Perfect waistline.

 

No heart.

 

“For what do I feel with purpose”,

you’d ask?  The pain mere inconvenience.

 

I want to build a Lavender garden,

land softly, a butterfly to its scent.

Smile—the perfect yellow.

 

You can sit on a throne of clouds

that cannot hold your influence,

 

let it fall, sorrowful grey rain.

 

The dawn or dusk can find us:

 

A silent consequence.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

© 2016 All Rights Reserved

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFp-6IdoDn0

 

Bully

Oh, oh my belly is churning.

—Dope.

 

The snake inside pretending

not to be a reptile.

 

Abiding. I am to the rules,

broken,

breaking my insides.

 

You are afraid aren’t you?

 

If I could hear I’d answer,

yes…

 

But it’s a lie. Only one evil

manipulator at a time.

Fuck!

 

Here he is desperately weak.

Indeed!

Bravado build me a bully.

 

You can hear the laughter

is torment. True horror

inside the crackled bits of him.

 

I am—pink chiffon. Captured in

innocent breeze. Follow her

to the secret.

 

Her love is real.

Won’t hurt you.

 

Even if he bites three times.

We can count backward steps,

black patent-leather shoes,

shine-click-click.

 

Wake-up tomorrow perfect.

 

See the daytime illusion on Venus

to the left. Always teasing, teasing.

 

The only thing that makes her

cry.

©2016 Maria DellaPorte All Rights Reserved

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Die Today

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Don’t die today with all the stories in your eyes

let me stare deeply into their cave and get lost in

licorice land sweetness pumping from the heart

that doesn’t know its fate those deteriorating insides 

freshly scented summer daffodils bloomed-rotting-bones

parasites crawling from your ears remember your

favorite tune when you can no longer hear but 

songs or sins will burn your tongue swallowing bitter

yesterdays so let it go to hell in the soul of your feet

where we will jump off the edge into dust that

steals your sanity and dreams STOP! This is the

gravitational pull up I am almost home can hear

your mother’s cries the blackness surrounding 

wind at  your back the day was born without you today 

humming your memory—I’ve forgotten the words.

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©Maria DellaPorte 2016 All Rights Reserved

Two Stars

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1UgOCTQ3qlY

A hundred thousand years—

 

Many millions to ensue…

 

Where we will be, longing.

 

The vast darkness.

          Faithless.

                    Always the same!

 

However, dotted speckles of light

do not question,

 

but are disciplined droplets – A fire-ballet.

 

Delicately skim pedals of

gold horizon, aspiring hearts

willingly innocent.

 

Strongly carved planets,

those immobilized souls,

elongate – calves pulling up onto toes.

 

Spin, spin…

 

The progression of hopeful chords—

 

Symphony of galaxies, continual,

birth new homes, infinite desire:

 

Honey twirling-off edge, a spoon,

light years from the tongue.

 

Two stars, waiting too long…

 

S e p a r a t e

 

Their celestial bodies – gravity,

allow a great fall.

 

Into love become extraordinary,

 

diminish the gap between God

 

          and unabashed fulfillment.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

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Poetry

Poetry – To bring the feelings of beauty, sorrow, love, pain, longing, nature, romance, death… living inside of you that cannot remain still, to life by way of animated descriptive expression; To plant the subject in the reader’s thoughts as if it were their own beating heart. Connection. Make them taste the words on their tongue. The difference between telling someone that by placing a seashell up to the side of their head they will hear their inner ear, or, that the seashell is formed from all souls lost at sea, and if they listen closely will hear oceans across earth remembering their dreams upon each wave. —Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

beach-conch-shells-650x433


little-girl-picking-dandelions

Here I am—flowing microcosmic energy.

Everything you almost see and feel,

unwittingly.

Your mother first captured it for you,

in a blue sky and floral ensemble.

Your father in the wind, surrounding.

Tenderness brought you here in fields

of Blazing Stars. The grass roots

playfully encouraging your wonder.

Discover:

If the day and its sunshine could sing,

what would it, for you?

 

Love, let it be love.

I do…

In a world so forgetful,

be the air

though unrecognized, faithfully

everything in life.

©2016 Maria DellaPorte All Rights Reserved

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SONG (a poem)

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The morning arrives late,

and evening, early.

All of the in-between-time – 

Countless efforts, vision and space,

blurred. 

The maintenance of –

Hope…

 

To carry her, delicately,

(fragments to a solution),

 

loses me—

A windmill.

A viola.

A song in the wind.

 

Only the sea and a one-eyed-gull

to understand.

Seagull_head_11

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-lQiqrNzb4

 

Road to You (I Am)

www.freepix4all.com

Where does it lead from here?

A question the road directs to my feet.

(Standing, stomping, still.)

 

In a quandary my toes and heels ponder:

How could it be the road not know

where it ends and where it goes…?

I’ve become dependent on expecting that much!

Still, the road doesn’t have a choice.

It is paved in permanency.

The twists and turns of gravel are merely illusion…

In love with the soul in my feet—

They decide which way to go…

 

Free to choose.

And with all the power she asks the road:

Carry me, please, on your back!

I’m afraid of direction, you see.

I will pirouette in position,

fall in love,

give-into faith,

that wherever my feet are, I am,

if not anywhere,

Myself the way—

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—Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vt0B0bZVM8