Tag Archive: Poetry


A Penny Tossed (Or Wish Lost.)

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October 25, 2014

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Everybody has something to say,

you know,

but when I write my mind,

I believe every thought is singular.

In the moment, why,

I am about to fall-off the edge of my seat,

painting each word that gathers me-up

in childlike-fascination.

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I am dancing on the page in my finest shoes,

arms in flight,

toned like a ballerina’s,

and the object is to fly—

Into that place I am:

free,

or burdened,

broken-hearted,

or magic,

middle-aged,

or, oh so young again…

I am.

When I can have things uncomplicated,

or nail them down like a tombstone.

Final.

Death and Daisies—

 graves

The way it shakes me sometimes!

Realizing the reality…

I’d rather be a raindrop,

falling-upward like

treble keys on a piano.

 Unknown

The pink little girl in me— 

Swirling like cream in a cup.

A dancing statue in a jewelry box!

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Before jagged-edges…

Still, there always was sadness:

Born that way,

searching what’s missing.

***

I fell from a star,

the dark, vast universe,

where there is always noise,

sometimes frightening,

but you are a part of this living entity,

not separated by birth.

Then you become a dream to yourself,

with a family,

and a brass bed.

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Experiences count themselves plenty.

It’s your birthday,

first day of school,

summer,

last,

learning to drive,

lost virginity,

marriage,

sister’s cancer,

a daughter’s birth,

money,

spiritual-growth,

broken-bones,

revolving door…

But never home to my lover,

with whom I’d live and die!

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***

This is not my perfect skin,

The supple kind everything rolls off of—

I’m sad!

Woman,

a princess and brat,

brave warrior.

What is the point?

To create a movie life—

On and on and on…

Though now, I am remarkably tired.

I can’t climb

around myself,

always in the way.

Promise me you’ll try?

Because after all there must be meaning—

Yes, yes…

But to be safe,

feel loved,

understood.

to give…

B e l o n g.

Those are all okay things, I guess.

Not to be a penny tossed—

(Or a wish lost.)

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Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved

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A Bird –

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October 19, 2014

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Today you are a bird—

The thin and crooked smile has disappeared,

replaced by a pointed beak.

It knows…

The trees, they are your home,

and the wind a best friend.

Call on her like magic,

sail with ease into the gap:

No time.

No death.

No broken heart—

Everything found is free,

and crumbs, they are so satisfying.

Thank you!

Though, I’ve no idea who you are?

I merely exist on my own accord,

that I am in fact, a bird:

Nesting.

Searching worms.

Singing—

On a limb and in Heaven…

The air, the air,

is ours to breathe.

God giving life,

or is it I?

Whatever your interpretation,

language…

As long as we are free to fly—

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved

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Sole Warrior Soul

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September 26, 2014

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When you cannot concede to a path of ordinary,
because your heart believes in the extraordinary.

When you see things in a different light,
hear sounds of a symphony.

Do not struggle to explain the rainbow
to those that
have never seen color,

or expect they’d understand.

You cannot teach purple to the blind,
or a bird’s song to the deaf.

Do not agonize in your solitude,

but rather revel in the awareness —

Trust yourself, what you already know as truth.
Live-up to your standards
(When nobody else will).

For you cannot change anyone,

but the world, yes,
when you stand brave in your convictions.

Sometimes you have to let go of everything,

allow the energy of the world to shift,

grieve it for a fleeting moment, then kiss it goodbye,
—a blessing.

Set yourself free in order to become what you ought to be.

No regrets,
only gratitude,

Each joy and agonizing step

that built you…

A champion heart—

Sole warrior.

Soul.

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved
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Brilliant Orchestrators

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September 20, 2014

They come like stars.

See them there in the thousands:

Limitless discovers.

…Could be death or the wind.

Multiplying—

Perhaps it is love or happiness,
like the pink of a cherry orchard:

You walking there in denim,

with your thoughts mind you—

It’s not necessary to understand,
although sometimes I do…

See it like the green in your eyes.

It’s the song I hear—

And without hesitation sing,
with reverence for all.

This is what I’m meant to do:

Transcribe the language
of little orbs,
red and yellow and bluish-green.

Their benevolence,
intelligence—

Carry that weightlessness,
to be disbursed into vast pools
of universes.

Into the collective energy,
a minuet.
–
I am here,
in a studio,
listening,…

The sun through slanted blinds,
like a carpenter’s brilliant hands
on my oak floors.

You there in Milan,
Toronto,
India,
Switzerland,
Israel,
Belize,
and Arkansas…

All over and beyond,
unique as imagination,

identical by a thread.

That is the question and answer:

Omnipotent—

Like particles in a memory bank,
preservation for a future we can’t know.

The world in a nutshell—

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved

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What I Need Most (And the only way is unwavering.)

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May 22, 2014

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I’ve no inclination for writing a story, not today.

The day feels more like scattered feelings.

Everything is moving in the gray mist,

with hopeful shadows of green love,

escaping—

Fast as a locomotive that I want to be on,

dreaming,

going forward…

Into the moment where the world opens her arms to me,

like a mother-angel, or a lover,

covering all doubt in the glorious abundance of receiving.

Good!

I can shout aloud in that moment up to the heavens,

stay!

It will be a covenant and I shall abide by all of the rules of peaceful satisfaction.

***

For there is no place I want to be,

neither in a home, or on a mountain,

viewing a beautiful painting or emerged in a book,

at sea with blue perfection, above the sky and moon,

not in the wind or a memory…

or world

without love and you.

***

When love is no longer a promise but a given,

I can see to the end of time,

to know there is in fact none,

every beautiful glimmer of life, revolving.

Resolve it—

Even pain becomes magic you can hold onto and nurture,

or set free to give to new birth.

It is my power to sense,

and feel all of these things,

and

to stay or go…

I choose neither,

  without you.

***

If there is one gift I could

implant into your heart,

it would be trust—

What I need most.

And the only way is unwavering.

***

I am free from all fear

when understood:

All I have

is love

and everything is

an empire

built

on love

–

Maria DellaPorte©

Copyright 2014 All Rights Reserved

Thank you – Led Zeppelin – “If the sun refused to shine I would still be loving you, If mountains crumble to the sea it will still be you and me.”

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Still Consciousness

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April 3, 2014

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It is not the years that put on age but the predicaments we travel through…the slicing and dicing of our hearts and souls…draw deep lines of regret on our faces and weigh down our breasts in the gravity of despair…adorn you in white turbulence…remove your hair in literal losses…Eventually give-up your mind most willingly, though subconsciously, to dementia, deafness, going blind, because the safe-havens built as the foundation of your life have always been but mere illusion, a formed quicksand.

If everyone remained as his or her innocent child, in his or her natural state of potent life force, birthright, the sunlight in us would never stop enriching each cell with exuberant flow, the bodies we host. The light abounding in the universe would cup us in stunning perfection and peace.

It is when we separate from our Source that we succumb to the cruelties of nature and life outside of ourselves, foreign to our natural state and whither in its grasp. We become the earth in all its beauty and frailty, giving way to changes that are purposeful and significant, if you are a rock or fields of grass, the tide or seasons, but we are not…

We are the stillness of consciousness that never dies and always knows inherently all that is and isn’t present in perfection.

This beautiful lesson here on earth, poignant in pleasure and pain, is magnificent as we leave grateful to have experienced every tingle of emotion. Back to the place we came…we are…and never left…never born and without death.

It is glorious intellect, sensory, source, and movement,

God—

One heart galaxy in love, all there is, ever was…

Being—

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

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I Am Everything I Don’t Know and All That is True

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March 23, 2014

The following excerpt is from, Dan Millman’s, The Peaceful Warrior:  “The universe is, well, there are theories about how it’s shaped…” “That’s not what I asked. Where is it?” “I don’t know–how can I answer that?” “That is the point. You cannot answer it, and you never will. There is no knowing about it. You are ignorant of where the universe is, and thus, where you are. In fact, you have no knowledge of where anything is or of what anything is or how it came to be. Life is a mystery.” “My ignorance is based on this understanding. Your understanding is based on ignorance. This is why I am a humorous fool, and you are a serious jackass.”

And below is a poem of my own from my upcoming book.

(Sometimes “I’m the humorous fool, and other times the serious jackass.”)

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I feel as if I came to earth by accident.

An unfortunate event occurred:

Somehow I was disconnected

from something vaster, universal,

far more intelligent, sensory…

than that of earthly things.

I am an extra sensory being—

That very disconnect,

or floating if you will,

separated, alone –

Is my fear!

I detect the detachment.

On a subconscious level it lives within me-

the mind-body connection:

My soul that gathers in my gut,

all knowing –

the seed of me…

I feel that cell!

In every thought,

Panic—

Been trying to fit in all my life,

into a place I don’t belong.

The struggle is the internal structure,

a program that is wiser and unwilling,

to adapt to the stupidity

that brings peace.

OH and I want peace!

To be accepted by the very things and people

that I can’t accept, won’t…

that I frown upon!

I never would want to be like…

I simply envy the ability to be oblivious –

to nature and the universe,

to sound and sight,

and energy…

To the point they are happy!

Because it is true:

“Ignorance is Bliss.”

When you are a mirror,

the truth is evident,

and what I speak of

evokes fear in those

and sadness in me

because I am alone.

When I go into their notion it is

a vacation. I can take the weight off…

The philosopher, philosophy,

Aesthetics.

I am—

Detesting what surrounds me.

Wildly fearful there’s not a living soul to trust.

So smart….

to be a dope is easier!!

An OBLIVIOUS WONDERLAND!

Do what IS civilized society:

Detach joyfully,

tread on one another,

make a life of greed and war,

Things and more things…

Have your spawn shadow you.

Build an empire on illusion.

When I am in the light,

the sun-home,

I feel connected to the heart of mine.

Only then I can be free and walk among

the fools!

Those are the days of my innocence.

-Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

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Swing High

Filed under: Family, Friends and Memories, POETRY — 2 Comments
March 15, 2014

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When I was a little girl I swung high and low,

and tried to touch the clouds with my toes,

in a pair of sneakers with worn-out laces,

that I learned to tie with the help of

a song about rabbit ears.

Collected memories in dirt-filled-soles,

of Mill Pond and the trees I climbed.

Each winding branch an invitation to soar,

to new heights,

in the world and in me.

The days of tall grass fields and Daffodils,

scents of onion, and honeysuckle sweetness.

Oh and how loudly the sun shone!

As if it were a chorus in the sky:

Hopes and dreams sung in children’s voices,

not just light, but imagination come to life–

We challenged one another to balance,

walk on the white wooden fences,

dividing us from the street,

and constructed belief.

I learned to stand tall, even on one leg,

with the other behind, then in front,

arms like a bird.

When you could you flew, and if not,

you fell and got back up again,

dusted-off the scrapes and bruises.

The breeze was delicate, innocent,

could heal and carry you anywhere…

We played softball in a dirt field with

made-up bases, raced up and down hills,

yelled:

You’re it!

We honored our word and knew the importance

of it as children.

…Called teams, jumped rope, hung tires,

even dug deeply down into the clay layers of soil

for China.

It’s true (and we actually believed we could!)

Sometimes with a close friend,

you’d just sit and wonder, talk secrets,

and collect the ladybugs or ants that crawled

onto your sun-drenched skin.

We had no doubts…

When I was a little girl no one ever told me

it’s impossible to touch the clouds with your toes.

They let you believe, reach for, and dream.

We weren’t encouraged not to because we may fail,

get hurt, or that things were unattainable, silly even,

but were encouraged to strive because trying

made anything possible—

As we grew into adulthood and older eyes,

from seeing the truth of things not so playful…

Something somewhere somehow said we couldn’t,

and being so smart we believed it,

and settled into that misfortune.

I carry around my little girl’s heart,

into love, into life, into creating,

in everything that I am—

(and it’s when someone suggests I shouldn’t that I hurt.)

…Into believing, into teaching my own daughter today,

and every little girl (boys too),

that  you should always strive to touch the sky

with your toes, even if it seems no one ever has

or will.

…Be the one trying and believing,

rather than a hopeless fool—

For rigid is the road to devastation.

And you could toss your sneakers,

and live your days in shattered bones.

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

(this is still being edited)

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In Light of the New Year –

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December 31, 2013

I don’t know if everything is the same as it has always been, and each step is in a direction we already know of instinctively, or if things are in constant transformation awaiting our discovery; If the universe is inside of us, growing with each beat of our hearts, or if we are merely a part of it, a link in the chain of knowledge desiring to be pertinent.  And we are…

It’s 2013, 14, 25… and yesterday was 1857, 1942, 63, 79, 86…  B.C./A.D.  Someone was born of importance, and others died old and aching, young and wanting… Everyone broke someone’s heart.   An event changed everything.  Your grandmother was there, my father, Washington, Martin Luther, John Lennon, Mother Theresa, and Jesus. They built us; and then there was Hitler and Lucifer, who tried to destroy us, but the moon went down over the sea and the sun rose again over the mountains, as it ever shall be world without end.  So we grow and sing and cry.  We conquer and cave. Lose and win.

We are here in New York and New Delhi, in Asia, Spain, Turkey, Norway, Jerusalem and Italy… but these places we call home are but merely fragments of earth that belong to the stars.  We are all born from a mother’s womb that will flourish with life and blood, then return to dust.  We are each other.  Connected.  In the palm of one another’s hands.  Hold me delicately, as I you.

Love stands alone.  It is the fuel of life and dreams.  I have loved you.

There is a universal sound of wisdom implanted in our brains that calls like a seashell humming to take us into the waves of consciousness.  I will meet you there… like a bell that has rung and echoes into the silence.  When it is dark, promise you’ll reach out for my hand and pull me from fear of the unknown.   I know in time we will be cast into the light once again, perfect and innocent, to become ourselves… a cosmic truth.

Author: Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved

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Circles

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November 19, 2013

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There are all of these questions that answer: Why?

Pondering…

I feel guilty trying to understand all things that perhaps I should simply accept.

Faith–

No matter what happens, or how I feel, somehow deep down I know,

trust everything is perfect, even during worst-case scenarios.

Some of us are thrown into a mix of surprise:

Happy-go-lucky,

lost, loss,

laughter and death–

There’s an art to surviving.

MADNESS!

Yes, I am bitter at this now.

Today, I grew older by a lifetime.

Looking back, I wonder where I went.

I consider where time broke-off from reality,

and if anything is true?

Sometimes, I dream about floating in space.

It’s so dark and loud; it frightens me that I could be there forever,

waiting to be born or called into life.

Standing perfectly still seems the sanest thing to do when you’re afraid,

but you get nowhere, only pain.

Every now and then natural sunlight shines like it’s saying, “You can…”

I jump into love and look for you there!

Oh please…

And it could be laughter I hear or the wind, either way in that second I am free.

How can I expect you’d understand?

Maria DellaPorte – Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved

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