Tag Archive: Poem


The Painful Still

Winged-Victory-Weathervane-Nike-P

Nike – Winged Goddess of Victory Weathervane*

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A half-mile between now and then the future stands still.

Dream in a vortex—

Screams at the wind: west or east, come true!

 

Awaiting a perfect storm, to know, jump into…

 

Please?

 

Morning’s medium roast should percolate circumstance—sunshine-bliss,

and a front porch made from the intellect of trees.

 

Conquer circuitous shackles.

 

Prepare sweet lemon-sugar to awaken the tongue’s lifeless universe.

 

For there, leaning on the fence, willingly in anticipation:

The soul of a yellow bicycle;

 

feminine wisps-of-straw-weaved-basket,

brimming with wild flowers, and fresh corn of summer.

 

I can be butter and herbs

Sail effortlessly on wheels.

 

No more weathervane captive by nature, deprived of a say in which way to go.

 

That agony standing still—in hope of—

staggering!

 

Life—generous soil—be willing

Produce cups over-filled,

before we become worms that feed it!

 

I beg an exit to the left, from a mind that aught to be placed in a planter, grow thoughts of bitter-green-fear for birds, and insects to digest.

 

The heart—she is country without boarders.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved

*From Westcoastweathervanes .com -“In Greek mythology, Nike personified victory, and was also known as the Winged Goddess of Victory. Her Roman equivalent was Victoria. She is the goddess of strength, speed, and victory and was a very close acquaintance of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Justice. It is thought that Nike stood in Athena’s outstretched hand in the statue of Athena located in the Parthenon. Nike is one of the most commonly portrayed figures on Greek coins and her aforementioned association with strength, speed and victory has made her a well-known athletic logo.”

 

 

Helium Life

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 Dying.

 

Lying

to myself,

trying.

 

Hold onto the string.

Safety.

 

I desperately want

 

to lose

prove

 

Float free from

 

Its weighty foundation.

 

Above clouds of ordinary

feel the success.

 

Traveling feet.

 

Confident quest –

 

The helium life inside…

 

Abounding.

 

Everyday, a different color,

yellow, blue, orange, green, purple:

 

Kiss me beautiful!

 

Oh little shining star, someone etched a

scary face,

frown.

 

You learned

not to trust,

judge

 

natural instinct.

 

Inseparable from

a tied knot,

dependable ribbon.

 

Grounded.

Held my hand, thank you

for security.

 

Now let the air out,

I must go.

Love you from lost worlds,

creating themselves

 

inside the hollow

of an oval-shaped promise.

 

Only I can fulfill…

 

Please remember

our stories,

 

should I return home

for a roof overhead

 

and a buttered biscuit.

Maria DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

 

Man without a Moon

Unknown

The moon is gone.

A gravitational pull into black

hole, impossible escape.

Without a home:

You are, man. I’m sorry.

The tragedy—

Narcissistic stars and shallow agendas

traded your worth:

A dollar in a jar.

They gather in the tropics,

speak in fire and grandeur.

Shine on the revenue from which you were sold,

a good soul unwilling to concede.

How you moved the tides,

smiled with a quarter of the wealth,

became full with glow, ruled the evening sky.

They could not accept your change,

coming and going, confidently.

Its affect on them…

Discarded you,

a mirror reflecting truth.

Jealous storms collect their belongings,

tear deeper craters into your surface.

Unfaithful fools!

Loyal to fickle pennies their shinny copper.

Oh goodness, how exaggerated they became.

Self-importance. Gloating dirty mules.

I hear they’ve taken up yoga, and smoking

in certain circles where it’s considered cool.

A manufactured haven, created, where

no one is, “real or at home.”

In the abyss, the residents of forever,

chant poetry about the color blue,

applaud the moon – his gracious dark side,

feminine delight,

remember it shined brilliantly

off a generous sun.

Maria DellaPorte ©2016 All Rights Reserved

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

 

 

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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