Quietude ebook by Joanne Olivieri
Quietude
quiet envelops the trees
leaves speak foreign tongues
ancient manuscript
JOANNE OLIVIERI
poeticshutterbug.blogspot.com
Copyright © 2019 Joanne Olivieri
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-359-50064-2
DEDICATION
Dedicated to my Mom who bought me my first
book of poetry at age ten and who always encouraged my
writing. This is for you. RIP Mom I Love You
For my Sammers who made me laugh each and every day and to my sweet boy Sonny, Waffles, Dottie and Hoshi who all have my heart.
A special thanks to Sony and Jerry Holland for showing me that anything is possible. Their support and love inspire me each day. Love you two. www.sonyholland.com
Clothespin Doll
For Mom
It touched your heart
a wooden clamp
adorned in torn fabric,
colors of life,
Streaming tears of
sorrow, yet joy,
she was your dolly.
You dressed her each day
with different colored fabric, two dotted eyes and
a painted smile, kept warm
in a sewing machine drawer, protected, loved.
Your clothespin baby
didn't have a name
though it didn't matter.
She was your dolly
and you loved her.
*****
Background:
A poem for my Mom. My Mom loved dolls but never had any as a child as my grandparents never had enough money to buy her one. So my Mom made a doll out of a clothespin and treated it as her baby and would tuck it in a drawer of their sewing machine each night to keep it safe, warm and protected. I wrote this for her when the words and memory came to me in the middle of the night
I always bought Mom collectible dolls for different occasions because of her childhood knowing how much she wanted and loved dolls.
Table of Sections
Hong Kong
Serenity
Spiritual Nourishment
Haiku and Senryu
Lyrics.
Hong Kong
Red Lanterns
Oh, how they kiss the winds
With a cultural embrace.
A harmonious balance
Alights the promenade
Feng Shui.
An escape to tradition
A journey of peace
And silent affirmation.
The cleansing of spirit and home,
Red Lanterns
Await the dawn
Of the Lunar New Year.
Gong Xi Fa Cai!
Seafaring Maestro
As Victoria Harbor awakens
morning serenades begin
a sunrise chorus.
The Star Ferry
with delicate precision
glides uninterrupted
in gracious harmony
towards Hong Kong island.
I walk along the promenade
keeping time
with harbor rhythms.
Familiar notes
foreign tongues
saturate my senses
holding me captive.
The magnificent summit
Victoria Peak
an elegant backdrop
for garish skyscrapers;
overseer of the interlude
between islands
stands proud.
Symphonic waves
embrace my skin
leaving me spellbound.
I turn towards
The Clocktower
and escape into the reality
of knowing
though a world away,
I am home.
Symphony Of Lights
The stage is set.
The performance about to begin.
An air of excitement
hushes the crowd.
Shutterbugs line the promenade.
The towering facades
of Hong Kong island
come alive;
a cabaret of lights
about to strut their stuff.
The harbor illuminates
a rainbow ebb tide.
Skies explode
a disco ball - Asian style.
Beams of light
reflect upon
Victoria Harbor;
the water dance in full swing.
15 minutes of fame
and I suddenly remember,
I left my camera back at the hotel!
New Year's Day In Kowloon
With an air of baked yams
and charcoal stir fried chestnuts
the bustling side streets
come alive this new day
the rooster crows.
Temple Street
bargains it's way through tourists.
Bamboo, china dolls, fu dog
hawked with an Eastern flair
good fortune and piety.
The lion dances
with a deafening roar
chasing evil spirits
from Kowloon Park.
Families gather along Nathan Road,
children adorned in their finest
red and gold kimono
spun silk and satin laced.
They gather the feast
dim sum, chow fan, peking duck
and wash away the old year with
Chinese tea, sake, tsingtao
Yin Yang.
Aberdeen Fishing Village
Home to fishery locals
amidst a sheltered harbor
of luxury skyscrapers,
junks, sampans and trawlers
lavishly designed
with red, gold and pink
papier mache' lanterns,
navigate the maze of currents
surrounding this simple habitat.
Locals make their homes
within this ancient port
playing mahjong - practicing tai chi.
The catch of the day
salted fish hung to dry
serve as feast for their families
and money in their pockets.
For unfruitful the fate
should they venture ashore
as tradition dictates.
There it stands
a gilded oasis
Jumbo Floating Restaurant
enticing starved tourists
hungry for Asian fare.
We digest the experience
aboard a wooden sampan
where our sea legs savor the journey.
February 8, 2005
a series of senryu
my throat devours
decadent chocolate mousse cake
and champagne pleasures
while
sexy jazz artist
with sultry deliverance
sings birthday greetings
I
savor the moment
wrapped in cultural decor
where far East meets West
thoroughly enjoyed.
Repulse Bay
In motion
yet still
dawns an infinite canvas
of Western colonized
Chinese archetypes
where lavish mountain hideaways
rich in ginseng, bamboo
and crescent moon white sands
sing acapella
amidst a rapturous seascape
playing chopsticks
at high tide
while the South China Sea
sleeps.
Chinese Calligraphy
Ancient dynasties
as Ming, Qing, Tang
displayed in thematic fashion
a masterpiece of history.
Archaic scrolls
of parchment, sometimes satin or silk
the Buddhist sutra;
an archived honorarium
of the written word.
I study the poems and lyrics
in running scripts
a language unknown
the forbidden city.
I understand the poet
within each character
the Michelangelo of words.
I marvel the artistry
of a simpler time
where poetry was revered
and wonder if this poem
I am about to complete
will live within it's own dynasty.
nameless faces
Walking foreign steps
to the rhythm of taiko
the pulse of erhu
dancing Buddha.
Cantonese crooning
lotus flower soft
silk smooth
operatic chants.
Lanterns parade
a welcome smile
nameless faces
yet known.
Humid mist
Eastern breeze
incense fog
scents of life.
and the journey begins
Wong Tai Sin Temple
odorous incense
imbues the stone oasis
with fruitful worship
the faithful gather
sacrificial offerings
praising Wong Tai Sin
ancient waterfall
ornamental pagodas
an archaic bridge
man made testaments
to the shepherd deity
in honor they bow.
Tai Chi
Shadows hum
meditative melodies
and hushed interludes.
Thoughts echo
quiet whispers
of serene solitude.
Bodies dance
circular escapades
in reflective quietude.
Mind, body and spirit
the sunrise trilogy.
Tian Tan Buddha
Serene majesty rests atop
lotus flower throne.
His bronze elegance
adorns the Lantau sky.
Facing North
a mountain peak
on earthly ground
the temple of heaven.
Right hand raised
affliction be gone!
Left hand rest
a gesture of giving.
Serene in stature
overseer of peace
worshipped by mortals
and immortals bearing fruit.
A massive stone symbol
human of spirit
energy of life
they offer praise.
Climbing step after step
warmed by his smile
captivated by his eyes
humbled by his presence.
A hypnotic fog
emanates around him
as visitors encircle
and offer prayers.
Hours entranced
In a spiritual kinship
with him, tranquility
occupies my spirit.
Avenue of the Stars
Hong Kong
By night
by day,
a glittering galaxy
of stars
align the promenade
in Hollywood fashion
Asian style.
A tribute,
standing proud
stone carved
is the Hong Kong film award.
A curvaceous monument,
she gallantly welcomes
tourists to the waterfront.
Her native son
posed
in martial arts form,
Bruce Lee
the star of the show.
Handprints outline
in etched stars.
Colorful kiosks
hawking memorable
tidbits of cinematic
glory
Statuette film directors
provide backdrops
for curious shutterbugs,
as visitors stroll
dazzled and beguiled.
Avenue of the Stars -
an iconic symbol
of celebrity,
a testament
to Eastern pride.
Jubilee Street
Smoky Incense
orange, mango and pear
offered to Buddha
in a wooden alcove.
The street lined
as a red carpet event
with paper lanterns
green, pink, red, gold.
Hand woven baskets
home to fruits, flowers
bok choy and cabbage
strewn among street stalls.
Neighbors along the street,
raw silk, pots and pans,
souvenirs and toys
compete for attention
and the Hong Kong dollar.
Morning tai chi
Eastern sun
slowly rises
warming
Victoria Harbor
erhu strings
windswept
saturate
dawn rituals
and we move
slowly
in unison
as one
unspoken vibrations
musical meditations
enlightened affirmations!
The Aviary
Hong Kong Park
Birds harmonize
Cantonese tales
weaving heirlooms
among lotus flowers.
Nicobar pigeon
rests upon bamboo planks
while orange leaf bird
poses for photos.
White crested hornbill
the virtuoso of dance
pirouettes across
rippling ponds.
And the chorus
through pond spice
and tree cotton
echo against bamboo clumps.
Tai chi garden
sits calm, serene
against a backdrop
of kapok and candlenut trees.
The air warm, humid
the sky grey, misty
as I revel within nature
amongst a bustling metropolis
of tree fern and
feathered chorus line.
Sleep Travel
My dreams
carry me away
to a land foreign
yet as familiar
as home
flying through
ancient temples
market streets
lush green
and mystical mountains.
I awaken
with tears of joy
and sorrow
for I am not there
until I return
my dreams
will embrace
the far off land
within my heart.
K. C. and the Arts Center
We greet
with a reverent bow
and warm handshake.
Reverent – irreverent
artifacts decorate
desolate walls.
Haunting, amusing
eccentric mediums,
creative illusions
brought to life
upon canvas and paper.
Panoramic calligraphy
vertical poetry
spotlights stories
of rivers and ponds
as K.C. explains
in broken English,
my reply a reverent bow
and broken Cantonese.
We relate, communicate
in poetic harmony
both poets and artists
from different lands
together as fate
would dictate the
creative connection.
dic si
taxis
They colonize
all 18,000
weaving in and out
of traffic, side streets,
slopes and corners.
Right sided
navigators
hunting their prey
as ants to honey.
Nathan Road
Kitsch
schlock
bric a brac hawk
Be-bop
shop
Chungking flop
mansion that is.
French Fries and Ice Cream
The air was dense, humid-a pungent aroma of diesel fuel,
baked yams, and other harbor delicacies. I'd been sightseeing for hours, roaming the busy streets of Kowloon immersed in cultural flavor. It was time to navigate my way back to the hotel for some R and R before heading out to the waterfront InterContinental
Hotel for a little sass-and-class jazz fever.
In an effort to replenish my dehydrated, overwhelmed
body, I walked along the Star Ferry promenade-my favorite spot in Tsimshatsui-towards Canton Road,
searching for something to quench my hot-flash-induced thirst. I spotted the Golden Arches along Salisbury Road and found my way to the dining area. It was crowded and noisy, the familiar back-home
scenario. I ordered my Diet Coke and sat down at a table with a family of four. Mom, dad, and a little brother and sister, aged about five and six. I greeted them with a hello, quickly realizing they did not speak English when they returned my salutation with nods and smiles.
Having forgotten a straw, I sipped my Coke from the cup.The children were adorable; I was mesmerized by the laughter and wonderment emanating from their sweet Asian eyes
I watched as the boy bit off the tips of a french fry, inserted it into his ice cream cone, and began sipping. I
wondered whether his attempt at using the fry as a straw was indeed working. I'm sure the puzzled look on my face was apparent when out of nowhere he grabbed another
fry from the pile and handed it to me. I instinctively knew his intention, bit off the tips…and into my Coke I inserted the fry. Wow! It did work. With a wink and a smile I
nodded to the child. I will never forget the smile he returned.
This simple gesture by a young boy made me realize that communication comes from within and language barriers really do not exist as long as we listen with our hearts.
Serenity
Serenity
Greet the day
Serene in essence
Clothed in light
Warmed in heart
Bound in spirit
enlightened.
Nature's Essence
Hushed by the wind
I hear sea birds cry
atop molten rocks,
"speak to me"
I implore
awaiting answers
to nature's essence.
My mind wanders
adrift beckoning
ocean currents
as the tide rises
memories rush
hugging
sands of time.
Strolling barefoot
meditative pulses
energize my limbs
and waves crest
while tears cleanse
shadows of once
earthly silhouettes.
A fragrant mist
begins to dampen
the warm sand
as my feet
are buried
within
secret storms.
A lonely ship
passes the horizon
as fleeting
as a grain of sand
resides
on the shore.
The call
of the ocean
speaks to me
where others fail.
I answer nature's call
with pen in hand.
Beyond the call
Your face I see
beyond the horizon
and
you call to me
upon jagged cliffs
where ocean's tempest
bids adieu.
I hear your call
and
your spirit I touch
upon receding waves
speaking in silence
your name
with love.
Aquatic Wanderlust
Dancing waves
ebb and flow
to nature's percussion
as I silently
become entranced
in aqueous vibrato
pulsating gently
softly caressing
nocturnal rhythms.
Unchanged Melody
Music box dancer
pirouettes through darkness.
Her stage, a desolate wilderness.
Key wound compositions
through which demons sing
an ominous foreboding
she cannot escape.
The revolving performance -
a monotonous chaos.
The endless encore
she remains
day after day
never to break away.
Poetic Tapestries
I gather solace
In words loosely airbrushed
By visceral rhapsodies fusioned
Eloquent echoes
Symmetrically evolve
Aware, yet vague
Metaphoric.
Celebrating
the DeYoung Museum Rebirth
San Francisco October 15, 2005
The Mantra
Let us give birth to your carvings
and redesign your gothic symmetry,
let us resurface sacrificial grounds
with tender strokes and brushed etchings.
Silent as a tear
statuesque deities
blessed by
monastic chants
and ancient rituals
pervade dark halls
the triumphant centurions.
Abstract meanderings
the Poe de'artique
peacefully coexist
with aboriginal mediums.
Our ancestry we salute,
on the river Nile, through
ancient Mayan ruins to the
glory that was Rome.
A celebration of culture
that is us, ours, we together
as one family - our city
embracing the diversity.
Egyptian Dancer
for Samar
oShe displays her feminine wiles
this modern day Nefertiti,
the bedazzled queen
like a brilliant jewel.
A precision cut gem
tantalizing, beguiling
a sensual narcotic.
She's a shimmering beauty
whose depth is not seen
yet celebrates women -
splendors of the ancient world
through dance
and tells a story
all her own.
Born Too Soon?
For Dennis
Had I debuted
twenty years later
would I be on your arm?
Would I know
that smile
which swallows my heart
to be for me?
Would I wipe
away your tears
with a kiss?
Would I be
sampling the sweetness
that is you?
Though I can still
dance the dance
and dance well,
you may tire
the rhythm.
Though, as with wine
I've aged well,
you may prefer
a cold beer.
Is there a chance?
Or do I merely want
what I know
cannot have?
Had I debuted
twenty years later
I would not be
where I am now.
I may not
have ever known you.
A girl can dream
can she not?
salt and pepper
I am
salt and pepper follicles
an antique framed
limited edition preserved
treasure
unique, among
the ebony and ivory
of life.
Hot flash induced
words spew humid opinions
and pirouette ageless grace.
My "cup runneth over" rants
accepted
respected
disguised as wisdom.
My shell travels South
my heart travels North
my words caught midriff
sans baggage.
Steppin out...
piano man
tickles my ivories with
rat - a - tat - tat
jazz boogie hands playing
the notes to perfection, never
tiring the rhythm.
Decaffeinated
java induced inspirations
flow freely
while I count pixels on
white paper canvases
desolate of words - the
emptiness of writer's block.
Daylight
bids farewell on the heels
of moonlight afterglow and
I reminisce quiet storms.
A day in the life,
back in the day
matters not.
It's the pepper and salt
to taste I have to offer
now.
Ah! Turning 50.
Do you know who I am?
Inside
the muse that is me?
Seeking truth
in contemplation
the nirvana of thought
in verse.
I drift
the concrete oasis
of urban gibberish
my ego
pounding the pavement,
my words finding
the path home.
You see the end
result
of clandestine keystrokes
poems without form
form without meaning.
Free form jargon
blurbs - on the fly
reading between the lines
the tea leaf synopsis
created
validated
pontificated.
Yet
me, do you not see?
Not knowing
where I have been
what I have done
where I will be.
The lyrical liaisons
between journey and
destination
occupy my spirit
unknowable to you
if not for my words.
Awards
accolades
applause
house my ego.
Creation
of truth
in verse
house my soul
defined as me.
The word Diva.
Music Therapy
I awaken.
More Love
accompanied the starring role
in my dream.
More Love
not of the sentimental
or erotic nature
but the penned
Motown tune
by Smokey Robinson.
This euphoric cacophony
monopolized my thoughts
my senses
my mood.
It fueled brain cells
flowing through my
life blood stream
the lyrical fix
musical drug.
It took hold of me
would not let go
and I held on for life.
Saturating my heartstrings
it dictated the day
and inspired my muse
with stanzaic memories.
"More Love
and more joy
than age or time
could ever destroy.”
Sounds sweeter
than soft whispered
pillow talk.
Hanging
on the edge
each word
a joyous infusion
flowing through my veins.
I seized the day
on a high
of music therapy.
Awaiting Dawn
Where stars
bow their heads
in slumber
I drift off
contemplating
morning's birth.
Fog creeps
around me
above and beyond me
saturating my emotions
with a dull lullaby.
Darkness
whisks me away
into oblivion
the doldrums
of sleep.
My legs
my arms
my heart
restless as
a caged animal
the creative flow
hushed a goodnight.
Nocturnal scenarios
imbue my brain stems
dreaming fantasies
once lived
now revisited.
Apparitions
reincarnated
and sleep
is of the essence.
The crooning
Ms. Hummingbird
spews melancholy superlatives
waking the dead
back to life.
I rise
contented yet daring.
A walk on the wild side
is in order.
My Love Sense
Love
speaks in silence
the unconditional
stanzaic interlude
between heart and soul.
Never wanting
always waiting
to give freely
and openly.
Love
does not see color
nor stereotypical
ego branded persona.
As spirit seer
pure love
accepts all
with understanding
and patience.
Love
hears beyond sound
soft whispers
of heartstrings
playing in rhythm
the quiet song -
a deafening simplicity
defining uniqueness
to authentic self.
Love
tastes the sweet n sour
of daily imperfections
savoring the bitter
with the sweet.
The perfect blend
providing nourishment
for the heart
digesting the mix.
Love
smells indifference
and recoils at the
nauseous self righteous
stench of the arrogant
yet embraces the
empowering odor
of forgiveness -
a scent of healing.
Love
touches softly
hearts who hear,
minds who see,
spirits who know
the freedom to give
inherent deep within
our soul
without expectation -
unconditionally.
Christmas Memories
The December cold
warms me
when I reminisce
year after year
our painting memories
on the quiet canvas
of the Winter snow
together
The families we make
For Sony
Though we are not sisters
my family
would not be complete
without you.
The unconditional love
I have for you
makes me a better person.
By your example
I have learned
to expect nothing
and give more.
You inspire
my every thought
and I thank you
my friend,
for being you.
Encore
I drift off...
you
the starring role
in my dreams
entertaining my fantasies
while performing the dance
we call love.
Awakening to your encore
I realize
just how much I miss you.
You remain inside.
I walked through twilight
glancing towards the city lights
remembering our strolls together
throwing caution to the wind
love breeze entangled
our destination unknown
carefree.
This same path
you and I
walked
day after day
hours on end
never reaching
what was destined to be
but what our choices
foretold
as the end.
Agape
for Pierre
My heart summoned you
at an early age not yet knowing love.
Sensual whispers, warm rains
shower my body and soul with your being.
When you spoke, I could not speak
for words escaped me.
You sang
strumming blood tears on your bouzouki
year after year lost in Rebetiko.
Yet life your muse,
music your passion.
Too young
I could only listen;
rhythms burning my very core.
Your melancholy eyes
hypnotized my essence
a captive trance,
nirvana.
Fate
years later realized.
Now a woman
we shared love,
requited passion,
unrestrained.
Boundless infinity together
moment in time.
Soon thereafter you were gone.
Suddenly your last breath stolen away,
gone too soon.
I now see those
melancholy eyes
within the wind
amongst the trees
along the shore
within my soul;
I love you still,
Agape mou…
Sing Me Sweet
Dedicated in memory of my Mom
Sing me sweet
to sleep
Sing me hope
to fly
Sing me dreams
to keep
your sweetest lullaby.
Iditarod Dreams
For Sabrina
Gentle whispers
she hears
the call of the wild
as a distant echo
warms her
and weaves quiet
daydreams.
Within Mother earth,
snowbound
her playground
to Malibu white sands
she travels
gently through life.
Her navigator
Peace.
Her soul
Inspired.
Snow Goddess
For Sabrina
Her eyes reflect
the Sun's kiss
as she walks
upon water.
Her wisdom traced
on paw print sands
as she softly treads
along the shore.
She dreams
of snow laden earth
while paws frolic
upon icy sea foam.
Sabrina, goddess of snow
spreads warmth
melts hearts
on Winter's playground.
with love…
You Take Me Somewhere
Where trees shimmer
In the morning mist
And my body shivers
Beneath your touch.
Where the sun rises
Slowly, sensually
Coveting the Eastern sky
With warm kisses.
Where dewdrops
Caress my skin
And take me where
I’ve never been.
Where the wind howls
A rock n roll ballad
And our bodies dance
A frenzied climax.
A Writer At Heart
Words
Emotional expressions
inherent deep within spirit.
Passion are these words
undeniably expressed,
shared, proclaimed
in stanzaic precision.
The writer
Sensitive, intuitive
feelings arise, awaken
born from within
depths of the soul.
A soul unknown
if not for their words.
Ego revisited
firmly understood
and happily embraced.
The writer paints words
with a knowing
of authentic self
creatively expressed.
Memories, dreams
Parade the mind
As streaming videos.
These visual scenarios
Breathe life into the heart
And have no choice
But to be reborn.
Reflections
A glimpse into the heart
where the writer resides
words a mirror to the soul.
A soul which lives
Within the mind
without fear.
The heart
pumps words
through the veins
never missing a beat.
The writer writes
to a different beat
only he hears.
What Do You Feel?
For my Sammers
What do you see?
My little guy
When seeing the sunrise
Outside the window
Hearing birds calling
And butterflies flitting
Amongst the flowers.
What do you see?
My little guy
When dreaming at twilight
Through dull shadows
Seeing green forests
And gallant trees
Amongst nature's path.
What do you feel?
My little guy
When playtime begins
From dusk till dawn
Hearing beautiful melodies
And jazzy beats
Dancing and singing.
I hope you feel
The love I hold
In my heart
For you
Night Visions
Streets, dark, empty
musical noir sax
hits exotic highs
filling the emptiness
of broken sidewalks
illuminated by the moon.
Firecrackers ablaze
while street lamps flicker
burnt fog lurks
through narrow corridors
and the stillness
speaks a jazz riff
Morning
The sun has awakened
Dawn has arrived
A fog dampened morning
Eludes our sky.
Birds hum in rhyme
A melodic chord
Debuting our day
A new song born.
The purest of air
With wind so crisp
Refreshes our face
As rain and mist.
A colorful bouquet
Of pansies so sweet
Enchant with a smile
Our eyes so to see.
A new day is here
Awaiting the chance
To embrace our hearts
Rekindle romance.
Sea Cultures
Indigo gemstones
Coalesce into iridescent
Prisms of reflection
Creating cavernous worlds
Anchored below
Concrete technology.
An ancient kaleidoscope
Unspoiled, untouched
Naturally evolved
Anticipates
The modes of discovery
Beneath the surface.
Entanglements
Tangled limbs
listless
sitting bare
naked
a desolate wilderness
vulnerable
quietly commingling
Far and Away
Moonlight pales
And I think of you
A distant echo
Another realm
with me
nowhere to be found
Been Around The Block
In no particular fashion
my feet splintered
carrying pieces of
bare soul.
I've been above
below and beyond
searching for home
leading nowhere,
while the road less taken
breeds familiarity and
I stumble across
my past.
Broken pebbles
line my soles
and the pain
only memory
remembers.
Trudging through
the endless maze
of roadblocks
home eludes me.
To bare the drudgery
of past indiscretions
I must walk
blindly
above and across
the endless pitfalls
this journey provides.
My path
only lighted
by the wisdom
born of ageless
trial and error and
the path paved
with lessons learned.
Now, I walk
around the block
where my feet
are grounded
to the comforts
of home.
Writer's Block
She awaits
the rise of the moon
when the call of the wild
imbues creative energies
waiting to be set free.
The notebook paper
stares back at her
naked, a desolate wilderness
desperately longing
to be clothed
in artistic garb.
Her pen
a broken instrument
with which she holds on for life
yet falls dead within her fingers
and the paper sits bare, alone
clinging to nothingness
devoid of essence.
With the slow demise
of her cerebral fashionista
the paper seems familiar
as it mirrors the blank corridors
of her mind.
Sanitized by it's emptiness
both mind and paper
incommunicado.
And the silence is deafening.
A quiet oasis begging
for the wind to breathe life
into this mindless desert,
yet the wind stifled
and her thoughts stand still
going nowhere.
Though enticing as it seems
this recycled slab of wood pulp
lies undistinguished
a bare bones form
without meaning,
just as her mind
sits unknown
in skeletal remains
without image.
And she writes.
Jazz Climax
A tribute to Sony Holland
at the Empire Plush Room
The room hauntingly still
with mosaic tiles staring down
upon the audience.
Pink and red lights glare
like the eye of a storm
pouncing across the stage.
Lights dim and the music begins.
Ebony and ivory notes
meld with the pounding crescendo of drums.
Hot sax man plays it high and low
while the bass hovers
a musical fog.
And the introduction!
Thunderous applause
echoes while the star
rises to the occasion.
To the nines,
dressed Out Of This World
and the spotlight dull
in comparison to her beauty.
Her voice soft,
smooth velvet whispers
shower the room
in vocal elegance.
Lyrical reverberations
echo beyond the stage
and the room full
with sultry innocence
the sass and class monogamy.
Piano man sets the tone
tickling each key
to perfection.
At Last!
As the song goes…
Sensual bluesy rhythms
fuel the senses
with hot anticipation
while the audience swoons
in wild adulation
as rhythmic beats
rise and heighten
to a point of no return –
the jazz climax.
And she takes her bow.
Encore!
Yesterday
when our eyes met
that playful grin
enveloped me
as always.
Another in your arms
as I knew
it would be
made me
want more of you.
Those few minutes
we shared
the flirtatious
escapade
made me realize
how happy I am
this is not love
but lust.
Shakespeare Garden
And the leaves speak
through silent branches
their voices carried
by winds of change.
Mother Earth colors
Autumnal hues
warmly toasted
reflections of the sun.
November noon
debuts a play
where nature’s performance
unfolds seasons.
And the stage is set.
Bolivian Rhythms
I remember these tunes
so vividly in my mind
Bolivian rhythms
wafting across the square.
Haunting flutes
echo against
once forgotten senses.
The memories linger
sweet incantations
swirling pulses
throughout my veins.
Ethnic vibrations
chanting strings
tell of the stories
hidden in my soul.
Inspiration Path
Walking along
ocean beach
mist bathes me
as salt tears
on feather pillows
mumble affirmations
quietly.
A distant foghorn
echoes resounding waves
as a dull bass
strums undertones
and awakens daydreams
skimming stones
softly.
Saltwater cotton
iridescent sea foam
clash against
high tide
forming footprints
on golden sands
gently.
Quietly I walk
softly I tread
joyously in solitude
Ethereal Beach Walk
He walks among saltwater sea tears
skimming forgotten footprints
eroding the shore.
Translucent silver jewels
reflect the sun
forming crystalline memories.
Child's play echoes off turquoise depths
and thunderous wavelengths
cleansing high tide.
He hears, sees and feels
clinging as a barnacle to shore
buried as a sand dollar
beyond footprints.
It’s Not About The Almighty Dollar
For Mom
Her coin purse empty
Her garb 50% off
Her smile worth a million
And a heart full of gold.
Poetry Born
I type
thoughts jumbled
dissected jargon
creating silhouettes.
Kaleidoscope waves
channel
half tones
to breeze
anonymous.
Words synchronized
parallel
form lifelines
giving birth.
I Walk Into The Water
Face towards the setting sun
Eyes closed seeing memories pass
Arms outstretched hugging sea mist
Wading upon seafoam sand
Wind whispers quiet epitaphs
In peaceful melodies
And the waves rise
Land’s End.
Averting Eyes
You look at me
And I see the love
Your eyes hold.
Looking deep within
Your seas of blue
I can only avert
My eyes away
Fearing the truth
I cannot escape
Or allow you to see.
The Neighborhood
I walk
the shaded concrete
time elapsing
memories a dense fog
I try to wipe dry.
I pass
the same old house
sitting bare
shrouded with shadows
alone.
I visit
the old library
growing thin
emaciated
searching for Plath,
Angelou, Ferlinghetti
and find
the idiot’s guide to computers
a treasure lost
forgotten.
I cry
the poignant tear
for what was
and what remains
wondering
do I still belong?
Ageless Icon
It sits alone
a tattered fixture
housing age worn memories.
Splintered planks
Forgotten wood chips
Strewn over time.
I reminisce
that warm afternoon
sharing thoughts
laughter, love.
I smile
each time I pass
the green park bench
and remember us
now gone.
Restless
as changing leaves
unfold seasons
of mystery, new life
despair
One
Among multitudes
Unique, yet alike
Chasing winds
Nowhere
Grounded
not the leaf
nor I
entangled limbs
uncertain
Intertwined.
Seagulls At Night
A twilight canvas
barren of light
prelude to the masterpiece
hovers unseen upon desolate skies
waiting to be fashioned.
Out of darkness
they emerge
white winged choreographers
painting circles
breeding life.
Seagulls at night soar
faithfully
indiscriminately
a free form phenomenon
One Last Time
If only
for a moment,
we again fly as the wind
childlike whimsy on park swings
awaiting our carriage home.
If only
for a moment,
we tread softly through sands of time
sharing laughter, our dreams
escaping the ocean's roar.
If only
for a moment,
holding you again in my arms
we cry tears of joy
touching, sweet caress, we love.
If only,
for a moment.
Compliments of Nature
We'd compliment each other
You and I
As stars adorned evening skies
Light transcended beyond darkness
Hope became truth
Friendship ripened
Love was ours
The sun rose upon your smile
And set within your eyes
We complimented each other
You and I
For a while
Dance
Dance!
As if
weightless as a leaf
wafting across shimmering ponds
swirling above distant melodies
gracious in stature
confident as the wind.
Dance!
As if
you bear wings
rhythmically floating
among nature's silhouette.
Dance!
Beyond your dreams
Musing Seaside Canticles
It is about solitude
In the wake
Of anchored fog horns
Over a voiceless pitch
Of baritone riptides.
Strumming undertows
Syncopate rhythmic currents
Fusioned in a clef
Of aqueous harmonies.
A soulful soliloquy
Of seaside stanzas
Tranquility
Beyond darkness
within light
lies the key
to acceptance,
one with spirit.
Ego absentia
authentic truth
caress the soul,
awakening.
Dusk
At dusk
A quiet silence rests
Over the fading sunset
Shadowed by auburn hues.
Darkness awakens
Like a whisper
With ease
Embracing the horizon.
The Moon
Takes its place
Among the stars
On a higher domain.
Until dawn
The quiet passes
With solace
And solemn regard
The Poet's Evening Solitude
A tribute to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's
The Day Is Done
Alabastrine eventide
Blanched in empirical thoughts
Provided by frozen memories and
Thawed into liquid ideas, soluble.
They cascade freely and imbue
Creative brain waves along
Pale parchments of the
Virgin nerve endings
Of discovery.
A silent affair
With
Quiet thoughts
Untamed
Pink Essence
Pink expression
of petals soft
debut a heart of Spring
A floral canvas
of magnolia silhouettes
color to blue skies they bring
Elegant hues
an earthly delight
enchant the garden fair
Leafless trees
a wondrous sight
home to beauties rare
Ocean breeze
cleanse my soul
with aquatic tunes
pulsing through my body.
Let me feel
your dancing waves
upon my feet
tickling my nerve endings.
Release my thoughts
as the tide rises
and falls to
symmetrical elegance.
I hear your whispers
as classical sonatas
skimming stones
along the shoreline.
You speak as no other
can reach my spirit
with rhythmic eloquence
and pulsating notes.
Sea foam slips through my toes
echoing footprints
embedded in white sands
and proclaims my existence.
My beach you wait
with natural anticipation
my morning walk
daily refreshed.
Fog Horns
setting sun
bids farewell
beyond the horizon
daylight fades
as dusk lurks
below sea level
my thoughts
drowned
by fog horns.
Natural Oasis
As I walk through
the mist and fog
gazing upon dew
drenched leaves
I see floral creation
masterpieces.
Flowers created
by the universe
etched in floral bouquets
with vibrant hues
coloring fog imbued
landscape.
A museum of art
treasures unlike
any other venue
as displayed by
the hand of God
a natural oasis.
Driftwood
Nestled high atop snow capped mountains
Where her rustic log cabin rests
She becomes one with her role in nature
And begins her spiritual quest.
She dances within the quiet
Amidst whispers of falling snow
In rhythm with humming winds
A phoenix, burning embers below.
Willowy limbs now clothed in icicles
Held captive by Winter’s hue
Provides her nourishment to the breath of Spring
And her shade below skies of blue.
With the lure of the restless ocean
And waves hugging frozen white sands
She sits softly on barren driftwood
Grasping freedom by the hand.
Snowman
All along the snow damp mountains
Vast among the icy fir trees
Cold upon the darkened forest
Roams the legendary snowman
Known as the abominable
Stalker of the Himalayas
Man like creature of tall tales
Monster to a child's nightmare.
Whence upon a Winter's morning
Frozen by a flurried snowstorm
The abominable wakens
To a howling North wind cadence
To a shadowed dreary gray sky.
Rises up with forceful pageant
Surveys his domain with caution
For survival is his mainstay.
Independent by his nature
Searching among dead wood branches
Plowing through the ice capped tundra
Ravaging the barren soil
To protect against starvation
For a morsel fit to nourish
To sustain his mighty powers
Unknown yet by human nature
Believed to be fierce and horrid
Frightened by his sole existence
He is only there to protect
The desolate, cold and dreary
Vast configuration statue
Of the snow bound Himalayas
Home to the abominable
Snowman of Winter's tradition
Sight and unseen man made creature
Whom we fear as death's grim reaper
As our mind's phantom dark ogre
We as humans yet to realize
Man made as his legend proclaims
We all fight for our survival
To guard against plagues of peril
To protect our home and family
As does the abominable
Of the snow bound Himalayas
Snowman of Winter's tradition.
Sony Holland Performs
With a fire in her eyes
her soul speaks sensuous octaves.
Blazing rhythms scorch sassy stanzas.
Scintillating embers
ignite a childlike innocence.
Passions ablaze
she speaks harmonies
of deliberate tones;
A synchronized sonata.
Jazzy jubilation
and metered mezzo collide
in a soulful syncopation
of lyrical liaisons.
She vocalizes
in sweet serenades
of magical melodies melded
in a chorus of chromatic cantatas.
To mesmerize
with a myriad of mosaic monotones
And delicious deliverance
Is her forte’.
Sweet inspirations burn slowly,
rhythmically, methodically…
Each note sizzling, enchanting, enticing…
A musical seductress
Her charm
a flirtatious intoxicant
Igniting each beat, each rhythm, each chord.
She performs her heart’s desire
In a fusion of cool jazz.
The Songwriter
For Jerry
He styles the tunes
He is a maze
of words
searching
Those hip rhymin’ grooves
A procreation
mind and spirit
born
He’s the song
cool
upbeat jazz
to soothe
Yearning
My lips silent
Emotions permeate thought
Love stands still
Unrequited
My eyes wander
An intimate gaze
Time sits bare
Not noticed
My fingers tremble
A sensuous touch
Fades…
My heart
Stunned by you.
The Poet In Me
I’ve heard my voice
astounding thunderclaps
in rudimentary dreamscapes
and rebellious realisms.
The doubtful visionary
I’ve spoken
silent affirmations
in unknown languages
understanding the future.
The poetic archivist
I’ve known
what was read
to be reiterated
in past anthologies
The validated versifier
I proclaim
the poet in me
speechless!
The Etheree
Are
you a
poet of
life who creates
poems with love and
passion? Who in nature
is peaceful and serene as
a tranquil waterfall flowing
freely into the depths of the mind
cleansing the spirit, caressing the heart.
Sunday Dinner For Mom
Pass the parmesan, Uncle Louie
and let's toast with the family chianti!
"Mia familia mangia con gusto
Genovese pasta con pesto"
Papa, may I be excused?
"Hey Franco, chew your food"
Papa, but I have a date!
"If he respects you, he will wait"
Aunt Maria, you're sitting so quiet
"Forgive her, she's on a diet"
Mama can't hear herself think
she just smiles and sips her drink.
Her family is together.
Tree Commune
a diverse species
hugging limbs
sharing the wind's breath
mingling leaves
standing free
a natural commune
Where Solitude Disturbs Nothing
Listen to the quiet
fog drenched leaves
sing in tune
a soft breeze.
Chime in cadence
the bird's lullaby
carried by the wind
freedom blessed.
A sanctuary
warmed by the sun
kissed by the moon
forever gentle.
Where solitude
disturbs nothing
and serenity
speaks echoes
Out of the Darkness
Out of the darkness
you arise
touching my heart
beyond compare.
Out of darkness
you alight
kissing my soul
beyond love.
Out of darkness
you echo
hearing my passion
beyond words.
Out of darkness
You've become my light.
The Confident Rose
As confident as a rose
with satin soft petals
delicately swaying
against raging winds
in awe of your flexibility
I applaud your confidence.
As strong as a rose
with lean green limbs
standing tall
against Winter storms
in praise of your strength
I salute your courage.
As beautiful as a rose
with sweetness divine
bearing gifts
against nature's wrath
in praise of your beauty
I bow to your perfection
Inside and out.
Morning Inspiration
pastel hues
sing lullabies
and leaves dance
trees whisper
sweet melodies
a heavenly chorus
the sky glistens
pastel mist
kissing the earth
morning awakens.
My Existence
There is a feeling of
peace that has imbued
my being.
Serenity is now my name
my description
my existence.
If I were
If I were a leaf
clinging to your branches
I would embrace your twigs
caress your trunk
and bury myself in your roots
never to let go.
If I were soft petals
displaying my finery
around your heart
I would kiss your stems
with scented dew drops.
Together Fulfilled
Burning slowly
your heart rises
filtering through
my sensual intricacies.
Love pounds
within my soul
beating nocturnal rhythms
joining our senses.
Together fulfilled.
Sauvecito
Sparkling chimes
magical mandolins
humming in time
strumming in rhythm
Timbales click
congas pound
voices rise softly
as the mood calms
Our hearts meld
in peaceful harmony.
Music
Music saturates
creative energies
whispering sweet
stanzas, melodic
lyrics, sensual persuasion
Touching my body.
Spiritual Nourishment
Prince Of Peace
The dove of peace unfolds his wings.
angel hair entwines heartstrings.
As spirits chant, a minstrel sings,
the choral melody of kings.
Due North a star, lights the way
To Prince of Peace, where He lay.
A child
So Mild
A Savior born on Christmas day.
Peace
On thy lips, fruit of the vine
shall evoke a taste of shame
Martyred bloodshed cup of wine
invisible in His name.
Thy wrath befell upon the sight
Of devils chance to winged flight
Yet we
Shall see
Lion and lamb, lie down with thee.
A Need To Pray
As we awake to the echo of dawn
with a silent reflection of day,
our hearts and souls are renewed
as we thank God by our need to pray.
A need that is fueled by hope
and a faith which is never betrayed,
by God who delivers the saving rope
as we climb the mount of temptation each day.
If we misstep and lose our balance
and begin to go astray
our Lord will provide spiritual guidance,
when we fall to our knees and pray.
His Light
His light rekindles day to day
and sparks His image as we pray.
Beyond the jagged etched twilight
a moonlit gloss projects His light.
A piercing glow injects our veins
with Holy serum spread as rain.
He filters through our heart and soul
providing strength to make us whole.
His spark rekindles as we pray
and lights his image day to day.
Mary Our Mother
Clothed in sunlight, crowned with stars
show us your mercy from afar.
Infinite wisdom, divine grace
the lamb of God endears your face.
Fruit of your womb, a virgin snow
your tears of love will help us grow.
Mary, dear Mother, queen of May
dwell in our hearts, let us not stray.
Music
Voice of the angels
perfect harmony
uplift my spirit
sweet melody.
Lyrical notes
harped echo
protect my soul
from all woe.
Melodious chant
beloved hymn
soothe my soul
blessed Seraphim.
Angel
for Mom
Are you my angel?
Who guides my soul
who feels my heart
who drinks my thoughts
who soothes my mind
Are you my angel?
Always,
Together in time.
My Gifts For You
The greatest of God’s gifts
I can wish for you
are taken for granted by many
though for me, hold precious and true.
A canary softly chirping
A mandolin strumming in rhyme
A rose gently unfolding
An infant, smiling for the first time.
The sun slowly setting
The moon waking to rise
The sea’s waves calming
The drifting winds chime
Trees melodically swaying
Mountains, to the heavens they climb
These are my gifts for you,
With love, dear friend of mine.
My Lighthouse
When the waves of the sea lie still
and the sea bird's cry is mute
and the sunlight is buried in darkness
with the balance of life in dispute…
I know that grief has encompassed
and begun to drown my soul
emerging in cascades of pain
drowning what once was whole.
I know as I ask my savior
for His help in lighting my way
my God will become my lighthouse
and chart the path to ease my pain.
Rain
An angel softly wept
as showers cleansed the earth,
while we peacefully slept
planted seeds of new birth.
A spiritual cleansing of sorts
shedding a mask grown old,
unburdened without remorse
new beginnings yet to unfold.
A luminous rainbow awakens
lending color to our skies,
a protective stained glass garment
Heaven shields the angels cries.
Spiritual Nourishment
A gift for the soul
as warmth from the sun
caress and beholds
our spirits as one.
Seeds of the future
enriched by our care
experience nature
and love, we will share
Harvests to flourish
the fruits of this earth
spiritually nourished
by God, and His works.
Weapon of Faith
His scepter, a sword in divine attire
Pierces the serpent, with tongues of fire.
He fans the flames of Satan’s desire
As a weapon of faith, for spiritual hire.
The Northern Gate
A child is born into the night
unto the womb of heaven’s light.
His journey plants a seed of peace
as sacrificial lamb to fleece.
His shoulders bear a cross of blood
as tears of sin unleash the flood.
Thine eyes behold the Northern gate
and see the stars prophetic fate.
Forsaken not, by Father’s hand
His death, doth scar a shallow land.
He rose above, upon third day
sight unseen to light the way.
His death became the gift of life
to free the soul, of endless strife.
Thine eyes behold the Northern gate
and see the stars prophetic fate.
Listen To The Quiet
The hush of falling snow
the breath of stormy seas
bIrds frolicking on the meadow
forest parade of gallant trees.
Honeysuckle sweet on the vine
hummingbirds morning call
with nectar a rose blush wine
from Spring, through Summer and Fall.
A windward breeze blows East
the sun slumbers on the West
natures masterpiece
the day is done, now rest.
The night devoid of sunlight
caress the moon and stars
at dusk fluorescent twilight
guide seafarers from afar.
Listen to the quiet
hear the silent peace
whisper in the moment
our spirit to be set free.
Mind Control
The mind is our own personal kingdom. It is not made of substance yet it controls our entire being. This is why it is important to possess a quiet mind. Our minds consist of past conditioning and thoughts which race as if they were in the Indy 500 using our mind as the raceway.
Have you ever experienced insomnia because you had all these racing thoughts cluttering your mind and as a result could not fall asleep? It’s a horrible feeling especially when you realize that all of these thoughts are not allowing you to have peace of mind, which is necessary for a happy and content life.
We also have to understand that we control our thoughts. So, when having all of these racers speed around in your mind you have to remember that you can control these thoughts. Just put the brakes on and quiet that speedway. How?
Here are a few suggestions.
1. Practice mind control on yourself. When you are having depressing or angry thoughts try and change your way of thinking. Looking at a situation in a different light can change your thoughts from negative to positive.
2. Your mind is your kingdom. If you were a king would you want someone or something invading your kingdom? Of course not. So, you have to look at your mind as a sacred place that belongs only to you. Negative thoughts do not belong there.
3. Remember that no outside source can make you unhappy or depressed. You have the choice. You are the only person who can enter your mind and clear the clutter.
Morning Inspiration
pastel hues
sing lullabies
and leaves dance.
trees whisper
sweet melodies
a heavenly chorus
the sky glistens
pastel mist
kissing the earth
morning awakens.
Haiku and Senryu
Missing You
Union square
a frenzied chaos, silent
without you
Wasted
A nonsensical
Delirium on the rocks
Shaken not stirred, Cheers!
Spring Snowflakes
cherry blossoms
blanket barren branches
Spring snowflakes
Quietude
quiet envelops the trees
leaves speak foreign tongues
ancient manuscript
sky, ocean and earth
meet beyond the horizon
daily reunion
the sand dollar
rests upon the shore
seaside sands of time
behind fog
the sea plays hide n seek
morning escapades
the horizon debut
where sky meets land
a commingling.
dreams planted
seeds of life
Spring resurrection
perfection yet seen
insignificant am I
my beauty, astounds
delicate petals
gently unfurl
a soul hidden
canvas of color
tulips and daffodils sing
the praises of Spring
freedom paints the skies
on wings of inspiration
a seagull in flight
mirrored reflection
engage your senses within
contemplative thoughts
fallen petals
paint the landscape
nature's canvas
perchance love whispers
on the wind of Winter's breath
melody at dawn
November breeze
a faint whisper
rustling leaves
night frolics
upon satin sheets
breakfast in bed
moonlit Summer skies
twinkle a ballet water dance
star studded koi pond
Lyrics
No Longer Are You Mine
Your piercing eyes see through
A mirror to my soul
Our love , my heart, we grew
You were what made me whole
I now no longer smile
When thoughts of you appear
Pleasure, but for a while
Fades away, my dear.
With lips as sweet as wine
You kissed my cares away
No longer are you mine
Forever and today.
Chorus:
No longer are you mine
Forever and today
We simply sip some wine
And toast our love away
Your soft and gentle touch
Soothed my every need
I loved you, oh so much
Now my heart can only bleed.
We shared our every thought
Each moment a fantasy
Of late we only fought
Unforgiving on bended knee.
I must now thank you so
For the joy you gave to me
Seems a lifetime ago
Again, I am now free.
Chorus:
No longer are you mine
Forever and today
We simply sip some wine
And toast our love away
Tonight
Chorus:
Tonight you're mine
Until the dawn
Awakens in your eyes
For then you'll see
Through light of day
Together we will be
One night of desire
Ignites a spark
That lights
An impassioned flame
Which burns until
The candle melts
And we make love again
Into this night
Our cries of joy
Echo
The love we've made
That rises to
Ecstasy
As we, make love again
This night of lust
Which we did share
Now past
Fulfills my day
Satisfies my night
In memory
Until, we make love again
Chorus:
Tonight you're mine
Until the dawn
Awakens in your eyes
For then you'll see
Through light of day
Together we will be
****,
Joanne has been writing for 56 years. She is a published poet and photographer. Her works have appeared in numerous in print and online publications such as Cajun Mutt Press, PPP Ezine, The Parnassus Literary Journal, Westward Quarterly, The San Diego Arts and Poets Magazine, Nomads Choir, SP Quill, just to name a few. She was awarded a round-trip ticket to Hong Kong in 2007 by Cathay Pacific Airways for her winning entry in their poetry contest. . Joanne is the founder and editor of Stanzaic Stylings Literary Ezine and Yasou! A Celebration if Life niw retired.
Joanne enjoys reading, writing, collecting old poetry books, live music concerts, roaming art galleries and museums, leisurely lunches with friends in diners, getting out in nature with her camera and making toys for and playing with her feathered companion, Sammers and Sonny. She volunteers as an admin for several bird groups on Facebook including her own bird group, Jo's Birdie Bungalow.
You can learn all there is . know about her by visiting her website/blog
at poeticshutterbug.blogspot.com
Thank you.
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