A pLaNeT
I am not from the "other planet" oh, no.
Furies surround me like rings around Saturn.
I am a planet
Orbit brilliant warmth.
Stellar voyage, vast.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 24, 2010
24.12.10
23.12.10
22.12.10
SINGING ALONE
Singing alone to many
thoughts travel faster than soundwaves
vibrato gives momentum
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 22, 2010
(edit)
thoughts travel faster than soundwaves
vibrato gives momentum
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 22, 2010
(edit)
19.12.10
SPIRIT ROSE
Spirit rose,
from beyond,
the voice of a garden of laughter.
Spirit rose,
exciting bloom,
I breathe deeply of you and smile.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 10, 2010
from beyond,
the voice of a garden of laughter.
Spirit rose,
exciting bloom,
I breathe deeply of you and smile.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 10, 2010
9.12.10
WINTERBABY
WINTERBABY
Seek your mama's warmth!
Sing the primordial song!
Without chorus, without verse, without refrain,
the rhythm, your beating heart.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 9, 2010
Seek your mama's warmth!
Sing the primordial song!
Without chorus, without verse, without refrain,
the rhythm, your beating heart.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 9, 2010
7.12.10
On Infinite Love
On Infinite Love
tiny, you suckle,
perfect, small wild animal,
on infinite love
dream dark and dream light
held precious to the warm breast
floating through the stars
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 7, 2010
tiny, you suckle,
perfect, small wild animal,
on infinite love
dream dark and dream light
held precious to the warm breast
floating through the stars
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 7, 2010
6.12.10
TO FATIMA
TO FATIMA
It is you,
my three day old granddaughter,
it is you,
sleepily smiling your Buddha smile,
all-knowing,
you are my teacher,
it is you that still knows we all are part of one organism.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 6, 2010
It is you,
my three day old granddaughter,
it is you,
sleepily smiling your Buddha smile,
all-knowing,
you are my teacher,
it is you that still knows we all are part of one organism.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 6, 2010
1.12.10
ADVENT
Oh, winter Solstice,
my spirited lover and harbinger of darkness,
beseech me, once again, to see the light that begins with your advent.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 1, 2010
my spirited lover and harbinger of darkness,
beseech me, once again, to see the light that begins with your advent.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 1, 2010
30.11.10
NOVEMBER BROWN
Seeds await a blanket of snow.
Entering beauty rest until spring,
November brown embraces every promise,
dance partner in a waltz of winds and darkness.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 30, 2010
Entering beauty rest until spring,
November brown embraces every promise,
dance partner in a waltz of winds and darkness.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 30, 2010
29.11.10
TRAVELING ASTRIDE
Traveling astride,
relationships holding a far higher purpose
are not as much destined to fall in love with each other
as they are to fall in love with the universe.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 29, 2010
relationships holding a far higher purpose
are not as much destined to fall in love with each other
as they are to fall in love with the universe.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 29, 2010
TRAVELING ASTRIDE
TRAVELING ASTRIDE
Traveling astride,
relationships holding a far higher purpose
are not as much destined to fall in love with each other
as they are to fall in love with the universe.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 29, 2010
Traveling astride,
relationships holding a far higher purpose
are not as much destined to fall in love with each other
as they are to fall in love with the universe.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 29, 2010
16.11.10
grace of words
grace of words,
touching where one is softest,
envelop,
security blanket for the soul.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 16, 2010
touching where one is softest,
envelop,
security blanket for the soul.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 16, 2010
15.11.10
ANARCHY QUOTE
"A solitary impulse heeded, I, now lost in my personal state of anarchy, ponder why it has been given such a bad rap by most". ~jbc Feb. 2010
MOON IN THE DAYTIME SKY
I always search hard for you,
moon in a bright daytime sky.
It is easy to miss you.
Out there waxing, then waning,
you pretend to be human.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 14, 2010
moon in a bright daytime sky.
It is easy to miss you.
Out there waxing, then waning,
you pretend to be human.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 14, 2010
THE RUG QUOTE
"Quite often the rug that is pulled out from under us is the very same thing that becomes our magic carpet".
~JBC 11/15/10
~JBC 11/15/10
ENOUGH ROOM
My love travels in infinite space...
no direction,
no confines,
no destiny,
no weight,
no limits,
no time,
finally,
enough room.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 15, 2010
no direction,
no confines,
no destiny,
no weight,
no limits,
no time,
finally,
enough room.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 15, 2010
9.11.10
Drive
"My passion drives me.
I don't follow it in another car."
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski, November 8, 2010
I don't follow it in another car."
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski, November 8, 2010
CODE RED
Code red,
turning up, once again,
at my door.
Come in.
Never need to send an invitation,
logical or scatological,
do I?
Cover me,
bare naked,
with that which is woven of love,
worn threadbare.
Security, tight,
code red.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 9, 2010
turning up, once again,
at my door.
Come in.
Never need to send an invitation,
logical or scatological,
do I?
Cover me,
bare naked,
with that which is woven of love,
worn threadbare.
Security, tight,
code red.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 9, 2010
BEAUTIFUL ROCK-LADY
Beautiful rock-lady,
Thank you for your being,
awakening me, torpid, in the hot sun.
My beautiful rock-lady,
the gift, a synchronicity of our rhythms,
was a loving reminder from the universe.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 8, 2010
Thank you for your being,
awakening me, torpid, in the hot sun.
My beautiful rock-lady,
the gift, a synchronicity of our rhythms,
was a loving reminder from the universe.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 8, 2010
5.11.10
LOVE'S TAPESTRY
You are but a silken thread in love's tapestry.
Fine, but deceptively strong,
a contrasting hue,
bringing out all its highlights.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 4, 2010
Fine, but deceptively strong,
a contrasting hue,
bringing out all its highlights.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 4, 2010
6.8.10
To our "dog friend" Peter
Several years ago
Trudging through the snow
We spied each other
We instantly labeled one another
Oh yeah, here is one of those dog people like us, we said
Paying vigil to the privilege of living with another species
At Wilber Park
Out in inclement weather, feet soaked with slush
Or on a glorious day in sandalled feet getting pebbles and sticks caught between our toes
It was just you then, Peter
And your dog Hudson
Whom we kept calling Cooper
And other historic names, like Lincoln and Hoover
But you remembered Buzzy every time
And our conversation never drifted off the gentleness of our pets
We proceeded
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
And that’s how we got to know the gentleness of your spirit
We often changed our walking schedule
But it never seemed to matter
We still ran into you
Often engrossed in our own conversation
We’d greet each other, dogs sniffing
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
Knowing your name was irrelevant
We knew you
Because it seems like we “dog friends” never need formal introductions
Our pets help us circumvent that convention
When Judy came and Daisy came along
It just seemed they were always there, and we proceeded through the park
Much in the same manner as before
A few more “dog friends” now
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
Judy was always kind enough to keep track of the days in the school year
Adding some bounce to our step
Perhaps to keep us up with Daisy’s boundless energy
A vain attempt
Then the floods wiped out the bridge
Forced to change routes
Later, when the creek ran lower, we and other “dog people” built a rock path
We said hello to them, we knew some of their names
Even got their dogs’ names correct on occasion
They were “dog people"
But Peter, you and Judy were only ones whom we referred to as our “dog friends”
Then Mario arrived on the scene (A nice Italian name by the way)
Kind of like one of those toys you buy in a little plastic wrapper
That you add water to and it grows to 300 times its size in two days
The lighting changed, the seasons changed, our schedules changed
But we always managed to run into one another
Serendipity
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
This season past, we were coming to know you in another capacity too Peter
And that changed
Without meter, like what is written here
Without rhyme, like what is written here
Without the dot at the end of the sentence
Because there really was no end to you Peter
But this remains the same
You will always be with us on our walks our “dog friend”
And in the spirit of these creatures of another species that share their lives with us
To think of your presence, and how much it really meant
Has even a greater meaning in retrospect
We are changed too
By having engaged with you, Peter, our “dog friend”
In conversations with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
Your dog friends, JoAnn and Joe Chmielowski
Trudging through the snow
We spied each other
We instantly labeled one another
Oh yeah, here is one of those dog people like us, we said
Paying vigil to the privilege of living with another species
At Wilber Park
Out in inclement weather, feet soaked with slush
Or on a glorious day in sandalled feet getting pebbles and sticks caught between our toes
It was just you then, Peter
And your dog Hudson
Whom we kept calling Cooper
And other historic names, like Lincoln and Hoover
But you remembered Buzzy every time
And our conversation never drifted off the gentleness of our pets
We proceeded
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
And that’s how we got to know the gentleness of your spirit
We often changed our walking schedule
But it never seemed to matter
We still ran into you
Often engrossed in our own conversation
We’d greet each other, dogs sniffing
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
Knowing your name was irrelevant
We knew you
Because it seems like we “dog friends” never need formal introductions
Our pets help us circumvent that convention
When Judy came and Daisy came along
It just seemed they were always there, and we proceeded through the park
Much in the same manner as before
A few more “dog friends” now
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
Judy was always kind enough to keep track of the days in the school year
Adding some bounce to our step
Perhaps to keep us up with Daisy’s boundless energy
A vain attempt
Then the floods wiped out the bridge
Forced to change routes
Later, when the creek ran lower, we and other “dog people” built a rock path
We said hello to them, we knew some of their names
Even got their dogs’ names correct on occasion
They were “dog people"
But Peter, you and Judy were only ones whom we referred to as our “dog friends”
Then Mario arrived on the scene (A nice Italian name by the way)
Kind of like one of those toys you buy in a little plastic wrapper
That you add water to and it grows to 300 times its size in two days
The lighting changed, the seasons changed, our schedules changed
But we always managed to run into one another
Serendipity
To engage in a conversation with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
This season past, we were coming to know you in another capacity too Peter
And that changed
Without meter, like what is written here
Without rhyme, like what is written here
Without the dot at the end of the sentence
Because there really was no end to you Peter
But this remains the same
You will always be with us on our walks our “dog friend”
And in the spirit of these creatures of another species that share their lives with us
To think of your presence, and how much it really meant
Has even a greater meaning in retrospect
We are changed too
By having engaged with you, Peter, our “dog friend”
In conversations with far more meaning than discussing the troubles of the world
Your dog friends, JoAnn and Joe Chmielowski
Thoughts on the Master Teacher
To have had a master teacher for so many years was a gift; the realization that very same person was a master student until the end of life, that was a revelation.
To be master teacher can only occur in tandem with being a master student.
One can not separate the two vocations. They are without mutual recompense.
They simply must exist together to create a perfect equilibrium of our inner consciousness.
To imply a separateness of the two would be like pulling one weight off the balance scale; it would be rendered it useless.
Every relationship we have holds an opportunity for learning which is far greater than we had ever expected or imagined. Through our acceptance of each person in our life, through joy or even through pain, each relationship offers a symbiotic richness. By being open and in touch with our inner teacher/student we amass a wealth we can offer others. It is something we keep giving that never gets depleted.
No learning opportunity should escape us, no matter how seemingly trivial. It is all important. It is all relevant for growth. Hold onto it for as long as we are capable. Even at its end as one is hanging by a thread, it will be a precious, golden thread...........with someone learning from its glow. Illumination. Even a crystal, no matter how intricately it is cut, will not shine without light.
This is the only REAL thing we leave behind us. - - the legacy of what others have learned from us. Our light. One must be not only the master teacher, but a willing master student to attain this. The promise is in everyone. Keep shining.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski 12/16/08
To be master teacher can only occur in tandem with being a master student.
One can not separate the two vocations. They are without mutual recompense.
They simply must exist together to create a perfect equilibrium of our inner consciousness.
To imply a separateness of the two would be like pulling one weight off the balance scale; it would be rendered it useless.
Every relationship we have holds an opportunity for learning which is far greater than we had ever expected or imagined. Through our acceptance of each person in our life, through joy or even through pain, each relationship offers a symbiotic richness. By being open and in touch with our inner teacher/student we amass a wealth we can offer others. It is something we keep giving that never gets depleted.
No learning opportunity should escape us, no matter how seemingly trivial. It is all important. It is all relevant for growth. Hold onto it for as long as we are capable. Even at its end as one is hanging by a thread, it will be a precious, golden thread...........with someone learning from its glow. Illumination. Even a crystal, no matter how intricately it is cut, will not shine without light.
This is the only REAL thing we leave behind us. - - the legacy of what others have learned from us. Our light. One must be not only the master teacher, but a willing master student to attain this. The promise is in everyone. Keep shining.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski 12/16/08
DUCK SUSHI
Poetry is like creating a menu for one of those "high class" fusion restaurants.
Duck sushi (is it raw, or cooked?) with mango-fig chutney
seasoned with chile pequin spice
on arborio rice served on a bed of petit-pan squash with a coconut confit.
You just put all this weird stuff together.
Maybe even translate it to another language.
In and of itself it can be random and disjointed.
You only hope the finished project tastes good.
And you haven't created "high class" confusion.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 23, 2009
Duck sushi (is it raw, or cooked?) with mango-fig chutney
seasoned with chile pequin spice
on arborio rice served on a bed of petit-pan squash with a coconut confit.
You just put all this weird stuff together.
Maybe even translate it to another language.
In and of itself it can be random and disjointed.
You only hope the finished project tastes good.
And you haven't created "high class" confusion.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 23, 2009
IRONING SHEETS
Dad told me to give my mother a rest and iron the sheets.
I hate to iron the sheets. My god, it took them four days to dry in the freezing cold. They are stiff anyway, without them even being frozen.
Celia and I hung them on the fire escape, where they got twisted around, and stayed that way for three days. Like statues, some kind of ghosts. I even thought as I was falling asleep that maybe it's grandma and grandpa coming back as sheets. That made me laugh. Then today it got warmer, still a chilling wind, but not cold enough to keep the damned sheets frozen. They were out there flapping away like overgrown pigeons.
So I am stuck ironing these sheets. Dad said he would get me the pickles I like on Orchard Street. What good is this doing? Who cares if they are wrinkled? Why don't you ever ask Celia to iron the sheets? But I don't dare to ask those questions. It's gonna take the whole morning at least. For a couple of pickles. "Give your mother a rest. The baby is due any day" he said.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski March 3, 2009
I hate to iron the sheets. My god, it took them four days to dry in the freezing cold. They are stiff anyway, without them even being frozen.
Celia and I hung them on the fire escape, where they got twisted around, and stayed that way for three days. Like statues, some kind of ghosts. I even thought as I was falling asleep that maybe it's grandma and grandpa coming back as sheets. That made me laugh. Then today it got warmer, still a chilling wind, but not cold enough to keep the damned sheets frozen. They were out there flapping away like overgrown pigeons.
So I am stuck ironing these sheets. Dad said he would get me the pickles I like on Orchard Street. What good is this doing? Who cares if they are wrinkled? Why don't you ever ask Celia to iron the sheets? But I don't dare to ask those questions. It's gonna take the whole morning at least. For a couple of pickles. "Give your mother a rest. The baby is due any day" he said.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski March 3, 2009
MY DANCE
My dance, the pas de deux of brain and pen
My words move together freely to your music.
The means create happiness.
The end lifts you up and dances with you.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski April 6, 2009
My words move together freely to your music.
The means create happiness.
The end lifts you up and dances with you.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski April 6, 2009
ALLUVIUM
Wondrous that you haven't relocated from this strange state that is me.
That you read me, talk to me.
The very same instant, I read you, talk to you.
A synchronicity of thoughts, racing full throttle.
You have taken a place under the umbrella
I hold to stop the deluge from soaking me to the bone.
Suck in our bellies, tuck in our butts, you too stay dry.
In surrounding alluvium, my thanks, accumulating.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 24, 2009
That you read me, talk to me.
The very same instant, I read you, talk to you.
A synchronicity of thoughts, racing full throttle.
You have taken a place under the umbrella
I hold to stop the deluge from soaking me to the bone.
Suck in our bellies, tuck in our butts, you too stay dry.
In surrounding alluvium, my thanks, accumulating.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 24, 2009
HIS TWINKLE
On that day so brilliant that even a stop sign looked beautiful,
All prosaic turned poetic.
His twinkle, there in your eyes.
Recent revelation took me further into those eyes than I ever imagined I would journey.
I thought I would have emerged by now.
But the further I go, the more it is clear I still have a great distance to travel.
His twinkle, there in you eyes.
Where am I in relation to you,
All prosaic turned poetic,
That even a stop sign looks beautiful?.
Stop, and proceed when it is safe to do so.
The damned thing doesn't mean that you stop forever baby.
His twinkle, there in your eyes.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski April 16, 2009
All prosaic turned poetic.
His twinkle, there in your eyes.
Recent revelation took me further into those eyes than I ever imagined I would journey.
I thought I would have emerged by now.
But the further I go, the more it is clear I still have a great distance to travel.
His twinkle, there in you eyes.
Where am I in relation to you,
All prosaic turned poetic,
That even a stop sign looks beautiful?.
Stop, and proceed when it is safe to do so.
The damned thing doesn't mean that you stop forever baby.
His twinkle, there in your eyes.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski April 16, 2009
ALL MY FINGERTIPS
I hold you dear through my writing and my music.
Your embrace is your reading and your listening.
You exist in all my fingertips.
All my fingertips.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski 2/20/09
Your embrace is your reading and your listening.
You exist in all my fingertips.
All my fingertips.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski 2/20/09
KNOCK, KNOCK
Knocking at your door.
Happily.
For when it is darkest outside,
A light is always on inside.
And I can see right in.
You need not open up.
I know where the key is hidden.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 1, 2009
Happily.
For when it is darkest outside,
A light is always on inside.
And I can see right in.
You need not open up.
I know where the key is hidden.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 1, 2009
23.6.10
BIG CHANGE
"Way I figure it, big change, not bucked, is really only small change, and spend it we must". ~jbc 6/23/10
17.6.10
MY BOURGUIGNON
Sounds from a European cafe.
Kiss on a dark rainy day.
To this sultry, steamy lair
you slip in, stealthily, fresh air.
Your gypsy melody, my fine French wine,
graciously provide sips of sunshine.
Too passionate for my bourguignon:
what goes on without anything going on.
JoAnn Bertone
June 17, 2010
16.6.10
"INFINITE GALLODORO"
In his dying days. Al became a delicate piece of lace,
translucent and beautiful.
So fine that he could only bear to hear
God's gentlest music.
In the painful emotions of his life's end,
there was also a great radiance.
And, a confirmation that we too
aren't going to live forever.
His irresistible invitation to living life
to the fullest presents itself.
Grieving is our poignant reminder
to accept this invitation.
Living each day as if it were his last,
and as if he was going to live forever,
"Infinite Gallodoro" kept the circle unbroken.
Written in Memory by JoAnn Bertone
October 4, 2008
CHARACTERS ARISE
Only thunders and lightnings of sanity,
searching barnyards for prose without vanity,
find drowning lizards, gaunt, in herringbone leisure suits,
with burgeoning imaginations in shiny stiletto boots,
whilst within the confluence of wondrous words connecting
to the grammar that don't need no correcting,
characters arise, an amalgam, swirled in a trance.
words in the wake, settling, purely by chance.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 16, 2010
searching barnyards for prose without vanity,
find drowning lizards, gaunt, in herringbone leisure suits,
with burgeoning imaginations in shiny stiletto boots,
whilst within the confluence of wondrous words connecting
to the grammar that don't need no correcting,
characters arise, an amalgam, swirled in a trance.
words in the wake, settling, purely by chance.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 16, 2010
15.6.10
BROTHER, HOW I FLY - Haiku
brother, how I fly
one layer has been removed
another peeling
- - -
brother, how I fly
purge of bullshit and drama
ease in finding peace.
- - -
brother, how I fly
gone, negative emotions
disease of the soul
- - -
brother, how I fly
as in drunken reverie
but clear as crystal
- - -
brother, how I fly
one layer has been removed
another peeling
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 15, 2010
one layer has been removed
another peeling
- - -
brother, how I fly
purge of bullshit and drama
ease in finding peace.
- - -
brother, how I fly
gone, negative emotions
disease of the soul
- - -
brother, how I fly
as in drunken reverie
but clear as crystal
- - -
brother, how I fly
one layer has been removed
another peeling
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 15, 2010
LETTER TO LARRY
Larry,
You smile, sitting across from me at the big wide table on the porch.
Cherries, olives, a giant leg of lamb,
and an unsightly pile of pits separating us.
Green surrounds us outside.
Background of peace, my friend.
The sharp bark of the Ceylonese tea dog announces more visitors.
Smoke from an old refurbished PD’s barbecue burns our eyes.
Photos of Greece , talk about Paris,
I live vicariously through all your travels.
Long, interesting chats about music, yours and mine.
That’s where your place is.
Larry,
You smile, my New Year is greeted with quaking, uncontrollable laughter.
Bitter, eight degrees below zero, cold dark of night.
Orange glow of candles surrounds us inside.
Background of warmth, my friend
Ah, your skin is so beautiful, illuminated by a 60 watt appliance bulb!
As we forage in the refrigerator.
Tonight, tonight we are hooked, you, Bethany and I.
By Fish Eye, the fine Italian Pinot Grigio in the 3-liter box.
That’s where your place is.
Larry,
I never had the privilege of knowing,
if there was indeed, any other side of you.
I did not see you in your dying days.
Which came upon us much too soon, much too quickly.
I only knew you with peace, warmth, and definitely laughter, my friend.
I only knew you with Bethany , how her love shone through your being!
I only knew you with Rick and Sheila.
Ben and Max close by.
It was your gift to Joe and me,
the grace of your presence, amongst friends.
That’s where your place will always be.
To Larry, In loving memory
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 19, 2009
You smile, sitting across from me at the big wide table on the porch.
Cherries, olives, a giant leg of lamb,
and an unsightly pile of pits separating us.
Green surrounds us outside.
Background of peace, my friend.
The sharp bark of the Ceylonese tea dog announces more visitors.
Smoke from an old refurbished PD’s barbecue burns our eyes.
Photos of Greece , talk about Paris,
I live vicariously through all your travels.
Long, interesting chats about music, yours and mine.
That’s where your place is.
Larry,
You smile, my New Year is greeted with quaking, uncontrollable laughter.
Bitter, eight degrees below zero, cold dark of night.
Orange glow of candles surrounds us inside.
Background of warmth, my friend
Ah, your skin is so beautiful, illuminated by a 60 watt appliance bulb!
As we forage in the refrigerator.
Tonight, tonight we are hooked, you, Bethany and I.
By Fish Eye, the fine Italian Pinot Grigio in the 3-liter box.
That’s where your place is.
Larry,
I never had the privilege of knowing,
if there was indeed, any other side of you.
I did not see you in your dying days.
Which came upon us much too soon, much too quickly.
I only knew you with peace, warmth, and definitely laughter, my friend.
I only knew you with Bethany , how her love shone through your being!
I only knew you with Rick and Sheila.
Ben and Max close by.
It was your gift to Joe and me,
the grace of your presence, amongst friends.
That’s where your place will always be.
To Larry, In loving memory
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 19, 2009
JOURNEY
We meet at a crossroads, scenic highways,
one as beautiful as the other.
The views, changing.
Wide valley, steep mountain, arid desert, glacial lake aside.
Journey, don't stay behind, love.
Come tour this territory of open roads that fork and junction.
Besotted, we will reach the destination together.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 14, 2010
one as beautiful as the other.
The views, changing.
Wide valley, steep mountain, arid desert, glacial lake aside.
Journey, don't stay behind, love.
Come tour this territory of open roads that fork and junction.
Besotted, we will reach the destination together.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 14, 2010
11.6.10
off-spring
"Simply stated, the more political one is, the more negative energy (i.e. enemies) one collects. This is not to say that we ought not to express what's correct (or our perception thereof) but one shouldn't stay stuck in the mire long enough to attract the flies that spread disease; flies with no purpose other than to use this as befitting breeding ground, from which arises their off-spring." ~ jbc 5/11/10
10.6.10
TEMPESTUOUS SEA
The tempestuous sea, mild when contemplating
the dark forces of unkindly design
that tear apart the human mind.
Ne'er be torn darling.
I'd rather you'd be
the tempestuous sea;
feeling your waves crash,
I relish the calm under your surface..
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 10, 2010
the dark forces of unkindly design
that tear apart the human mind.
Ne'er be torn darling.
I'd rather you'd be
the tempestuous sea;
feeling your waves crash,
I relish the calm under your surface..
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 10, 2010
9.6.10
SOMBER GRAY
Oh woe, you're gone from cyberspace.
Can't click on you, you've left no trace.
No longer highlights bright blue day.
I see your name in somber gray.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 9, 2010
Can't click on you, you've left no trace.
No longer highlights bright blue day.
I see your name in somber gray.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 9, 2010
THEY JUST DON'T GET IT
We are in the same boat darling.
It is in a tempestuous sea,
we are most apt to reaffirm that
if they didn't arrive on the "mother-ship"
they just don't get it.
Yes, it is discouraging here darling,
And it can be downright lonely sometimes.
For nothing but our own survival,
we must resist the urge to explain ourselves to them,
as no justification is necessary.
That's what "mother" suggests right now.
That's how one keeps afloat, you know.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 9, 2010
It is in a tempestuous sea,
we are most apt to reaffirm that
if they didn't arrive on the "mother-ship"
they just don't get it.
Yes, it is discouraging here darling,
And it can be downright lonely sometimes.
For nothing but our own survival,
we must resist the urge to explain ourselves to them,
as no justification is necessary.
That's what "mother" suggests right now.
That's how one keeps afloat, you know.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 9, 2010
4.6.10
ISOLATED T-STORM
I hear your thunder and see your lightning.
Come on baby, give up that heavenly moisture.
Electric, trembling storm, you vibrate my earth.
It is time to stop and smell the ozone.
How I long to be under your rain!
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 4, 2010
Come on baby, give up that heavenly moisture.
Electric, trembling storm, you vibrate my earth.
It is time to stop and smell the ozone.
How I long to be under your rain!
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 4, 2010
DEEP LANGUAGE
Wind, you come into my life,
take my words
and blow them back,
translated to an unspoken tongue,
a deep language I never knew existed,
yet I understand.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 4, 2010
take my words
and blow them back,
translated to an unspoken tongue,
a deep language I never knew existed,
yet I understand.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 4, 2010
28.5.10
STAR HERMIT
hermit
I am
star
I wanted to be
harmony chuckling
hermit
star
the same note
in harmony expressed by
strikingly different chords
star
hermit
the same note
passionate creation of lovers
unbridled in a wilderness of music
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 28, 2010
I am
star
I wanted to be
harmony chuckling
hermit
star
the same note
in harmony expressed by
strikingly different chords
star
hermit
the same note
passionate creation of lovers
unbridled in a wilderness of music
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 28, 2010
26.5.10
GOOMBA SAL
Pappa said, "One of these days you are going see a face when you hear the singing." "Yeah, yeah, yeah", said Mamma turning up Mario Lanza, the real love of her life, real loud. Mamma was in a tailspin. Pappa had just arrived home and told her that my godfather Salvatore, the peloscuro (but he wasn't colored, pappa said) who had such a good job transferring gold from the Vatican to the United States Federal Reserve, was coming for dinner. I hated when Goomba Sal took off his suit jacket; there was such a stench. This was a Friday, and bath day was Saturday, so I knew it was going to be really bad. Yes, I will hold my breath while I kiss his ring, I thought to myself. They taught us in Continuation School that we should use deodorant, but the men never used it. Mamma bought me a can of Mum because the teacher told her to. It makes me feel like I have cream cheese under my arms, but I guess it works.
It was my work to dust the Virgin Mary, and all the saints inhabiting every corner of our apartment. Mamma would pray to each one of them at some point in her long day. There was a saint to pray to for everything she needed. (Like for the dinner to be perfect tonight?) "They must shine like the light of heaven is upon them" she said. "And every towel must be the perfect towel", mamma says, reminding me for the hundredth time. This was probably because it was the first time we had a bathroom in our apartment. The embroidering of our new towels had become an big obsession for Mamma, along with Mario Lanza. Real loud Mario Lanza, at that! If all went well tonight, tomorrow we would go with Goomba Sal to his City Island bungalow.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 26, 2010
It was my work to dust the Virgin Mary, and all the saints inhabiting every corner of our apartment. Mamma would pray to each one of them at some point in her long day. There was a saint to pray to for everything she needed. (Like for the dinner to be perfect tonight?) "They must shine like the light of heaven is upon them" she said. "And every towel must be the perfect towel", mamma says, reminding me for the hundredth time. This was probably because it was the first time we had a bathroom in our apartment. The embroidering of our new towels had become an big obsession for Mamma, along with Mario Lanza. Real loud Mario Lanza, at that! If all went well tonight, tomorrow we would go with Goomba Sal to his City Island bungalow.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 26, 2010
EXTRAORDINARY
Days of scant communication, a welcome to telepathy.
It is especially in the freshness of an early morning,
when the birds have just awoken, one feels the extraordinary.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 26, 2010
It is especially in the freshness of an early morning,
when the birds have just awoken, one feels the extraordinary.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 26, 2010
21.5.10
KIND KINDRED SISTER SPIRIT SING
Fleeting moments
Unison in beauty.
You, an ocean.
Ebb and flow embodied in a relationship,
Emotions of guilt, fear, jealousy, wash out to sea.
Kind kindred sister spirit sing:
joy in the heart.
Kind kindred sister spirit sing:
keep it there.
Kind kindred sister spirit sing:
keep joy in your heart.
Keep joy in your heart,
as if the rest of your life depends on it.
Which it does.
So much akin to the breath of air you take,
no one else can do it for you.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 20, 2010
Unison in beauty.
You, an ocean.
Ebb and flow embodied in a relationship,
Emotions of guilt, fear, jealousy, wash out to sea.
Kind kindred sister spirit sing:
joy in the heart.
Kind kindred sister spirit sing:
keep it there.
Kind kindred sister spirit sing:
keep joy in your heart.
Keep joy in your heart,
as if the rest of your life depends on it.
Which it does.
So much akin to the breath of air you take,
no one else can do it for you.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 20, 2010
18.5.10
BBC ID TAG
Cafe, heavily occupied territory, pressing into me,
she, paper cup in delicate hand,
Neither the surge in our bodies,
hot as the steaming liquid she holds
nor sounds of a singer crooning in the back room,
entice her to remain in this albeit brief dream.
Eyes, a fortress, she, fearless, darts through mortar fire,
life, dangling by BBC ID tag,
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 18, 2010
she, paper cup in delicate hand,
Neither the surge in our bodies,
hot as the steaming liquid she holds
nor sounds of a singer crooning in the back room,
entice her to remain in this albeit brief dream.
Eyes, a fortress, she, fearless, darts through mortar fire,
life, dangling by BBC ID tag,
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 18, 2010
14.5.10
(NOT PENNSYLVANIA, BABY)
Kiss of a dark rainy day,
open road to another state,
(not Pennsylvania, baby)
where we are as close as we are far.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 13, 2010
open road to another state,
(not Pennsylvania, baby)
where we are as close as we are far.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 13, 2010
9.5.10
FLASH SO BLUE
I, alone with the thunder, lay in wait for you.
Close or wide asunder, you are the flash, so blue.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 9, 2010
Close or wide asunder, you are the flash, so blue.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 9, 2010
29.4.10
1/2
1
The door is open
Candle in the darkest night
Seems brighter than day
/
2
Let in the fresh air
Love as light as a feather
Smells like fresh cut grass
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 29, 2010
DO YOU SKY DIVE?
Do you sky-dive?
I take your words,
Eat them, or spit them out,
Rub them between my thighs,
I wear them for a hat,
Use them for laundry soap.
So useful.beyond words.
I take your words.
Do you sky-dive?
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 29, 2010
I take your words,
Eat them, or spit them out,
Rub them between my thighs,
I wear them for a hat,
Use them for laundry soap.
So useful.beyond words.
I take your words.
Do you sky-dive?
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 29, 2010
27.4.10
SAPPHIRE IN THE ROUGH
Tumble with me
Oh, sapphire in the rough
Rotating with the earth
We'll polish each other so every facet shines
Brilliant as never before
Light years in the making
Oh, sapphire in the rough
Tumble with me
Oh, sapphire in the rough
Rotating with the earth
We'll polish each other so every facet shines
Brilliant as never before
Light years in the making
Oh, sapphire in the rough
Tumble with me
26.4.10
HALLELUJAH
Shout Hallelujah to the winds!
Only you and I can comprehend the depth of the word, my friend.
Carrying me through transformation,
Cold, and drenched to the bone, you keep the flame alive.
Wondrous things abound, as I too, carry you
To where the spirit is free and there is no weight.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 26, 2010
Only you and I can comprehend the depth of the word, my friend.
Carrying me through transformation,
Cold, and drenched to the bone, you keep the flame alive.
Wondrous things abound, as I too, carry you
To where the spirit is free and there is no weight.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 26, 2010
21.4.10
HIS OPENING GLISSANDO
the Rhapsody
his opening glissando
penetrating 10,000 times
transformation of space
between the lines
between the notes
between the sheets
transformation of space
penetrating 10,000 times
his opening glissando
the Rhapsody
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 21, 2010
his opening glissando
penetrating 10,000 times
transformation of space
between the lines
between the notes
between the sheets
transformation of space
penetrating 10,000 times
his opening glissando
the Rhapsody
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 21, 2010
OMNIPOTENT RESTS
Tis only they that can be
present before the melody starts,
Tis only they that can be
felt after the melody ends.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
rev. April 21, 2010
present before the melody starts,
Tis only they that can be
felt after the melody ends.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
rev. April 21, 2010
19.4.10
THE CLOSETED FACTS OF A PANTS SALESMAN
Nothing is ever as it seams.
He's been needled too many times.
He'll cuff anyone. .
Give him a hook, he'll give you the eye.
You'll likely get a rise, asking for your size.
The pants salesman.
Riveted, he belts out melodies in style, looped as usual, wasted.
What dreams are in store?
Regular, tall or short tails?
Falling asleep with Polly and Esther.
Testing his zipper, in high rise style?
He creases his brow with the happiness of a permanent press announcement.
Panting, the seam man.
Soil-resistant, indeed.
Wrinkle-free, for sure.
Only he knows the facts in the closet.
Only we can fashion what they are.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 14, 2009
He's been needled too many times.
He'll cuff anyone. .
Give him a hook, he'll give you the eye.
You'll likely get a rise, asking for your size.
The pants salesman.
Riveted, he belts out melodies in style, looped as usual, wasted.
What dreams are in store?
Regular, tall or short tails?
Falling asleep with Polly and Esther.
Testing his zipper, in high rise style?
He creases his brow with the happiness of a permanent press announcement.
Panting, the seam man.
Soil-resistant, indeed.
Wrinkle-free, for sure.
Only he knows the facts in the closet.
Only we can fashion what they are.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 14, 2009
17.4.10
HUMOR
"I believe one's humor is dependent on one's humor, on which one's life is dependent, of course." ~j.b.c. 4/17/10
16.4.10
TWO LEFT FEET
The dance of life
cha-cha, meringue,
waltz, lambada
fox-trot, lindy
create to suit your rhythm
But until the ego leaves the dance floor, we have two left feet.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 16, 2010
cha-cha, meringue,
waltz, lambada
fox-trot, lindy
create to suit your rhythm
But until the ego leaves the dance floor, we have two left feet.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 16, 2010
15.4.10
ENCHANTED
Pass through your world.
A pause.
You, there, reading.
I, here, sharpening the pencil.
As you read, we are in the same place:
Enchanted, for but a brief moment.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 15, 2010
A pause.
You, there, reading.
I, here, sharpening the pencil.
As you read, we are in the same place:
Enchanted, for but a brief moment.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 15, 2010
RECALCITRANT WORD
A recalcitrant word,
a chameleon in response to thought,
virgin or whore?
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 5, 2010
a chameleon in response to thought,
virgin or whore?
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 5, 2010
14.4.10
PERIPHERY
The periphery. A place where words are symbols without meaning.
The words are invisible, and left unspoken here,
Where space and light and music is the respite from the crowded darkness of life.
This is the place where you dwell!
The periphery. Whether I am aware of your presence or not,
or you aware of mine, you are always there.
Grandiose attention is not necessary.
It is truly a sparkle of light that catches the eye best.
You are the firefly in the dark!
The periphery. Where space is the breathing room.
It defines what is comfortable. Without it we suffocate, left in free fall, alone to traverse a crowded darkness that preserves anonymity
by making everyone homogeneous.
You are a breath of air!
The periphery. Where a sensuous melody is color.
An aria glistens through the silence, fades and dissipates.
Like a mist we can’t hold on to, but see all around.
You are the music in the silence!
The music in the silence.The breath of air. The firefly in the dark.
Sometimes I see hear you, feel you, see you, and sometimes I don’t.
The periphery. This is the place where you dwell!
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski 1/06/09
The words are invisible, and left unspoken here,
Where space and light and music is the respite from the crowded darkness of life.
This is the place where you dwell!
The periphery. Whether I am aware of your presence or not,
or you aware of mine, you are always there.
Grandiose attention is not necessary.
It is truly a sparkle of light that catches the eye best.
You are the firefly in the dark!
The periphery. Where space is the breathing room.
It defines what is comfortable. Without it we suffocate, left in free fall, alone to traverse a crowded darkness that preserves anonymity
by making everyone homogeneous.
You are a breath of air!
The periphery. Where a sensuous melody is color.
An aria glistens through the silence, fades and dissipates.
Like a mist we can’t hold on to, but see all around.
You are the music in the silence!
The music in the silence.The breath of air. The firefly in the dark.
Sometimes I see hear you, feel you, see you, and sometimes I don’t.
The periphery. This is the place where you dwell!
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski 1/06/09
13.4.10
CADENZA
"When one is at the cadenza it is not the place to mince words, as the rest of the concerto and finale will come soon enough, and without regard".
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 13, 2010
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 13, 2010
12.4.10
SEED
The seed you planted my friend, effortlessly tended.
Roots of laughter, deep, strong, unseen.
As ground breaks, even more amusement.
Weed, or the beauty sprouting may choke.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 12, 2010
Roots of laughter, deep, strong, unseen.
As ground breaks, even more amusement.
Weed, or the beauty sprouting may choke.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 12, 2010
LIZBET
For little more than a girl I have traveled the unaware.
The kitchen, cold.
Blue smoke haze.
Hash oil anointing a hand-rolled cigarette.
Norman smiles broadly and gestures,
still at the same table where we met hours earlier.
I decline his offer.
Had we a common language, the silence would be awkward.
As would my nakedness, had it not been overcome by thirst.
For little more than a girl, I have traveled the unaware.
Slipping graciously to the warmth of Lizbet.
Early May, my land cloaked in flowers.
Road north, opened wide with longing.
To a land, still white with late snows.
Only my motorcycle, only it, armored against biting winds.
Quietly, ice floes retreat on the St. Lawrence.
Slipping graciously to the warmth of the Bay.
Deep fog horns penetrate the quiet, Bay of Gaspe, still dark..
In their wake, rise her body, rise hillsides breathing.
Forms indistinguishable.
A narcissus ready to open,
she offered herself until petals began to fall away.
The smell of her skin with mine, becoming indistinguishable.
Passion greater than senses mixed into languid sounds of early morning.
For little more than a girl, I have traveled the unaware.
Lulled by the late sunrise,
Once more, to slip graciously into her warmth.
She whispers gently, strongly accented "Finish your job".
Road weary, frostbitten, sleepless, yet, her taste entices me.
Smooth dark hair pressed against my face.
Finally she lets me drift away, gratefully.
Rising, she lights a fire for Norman.
Lizbet, satisfied, became our common language.
The silence was understanding.
Their day began.
I sleep, lulled by the late sunrise.
Passion greater than senses mixed into languid sounds of early morning.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 15, 2009
The kitchen, cold.
Blue smoke haze.
Hash oil anointing a hand-rolled cigarette.
Norman smiles broadly and gestures,
still at the same table where we met hours earlier.
I decline his offer.
Had we a common language, the silence would be awkward.
As would my nakedness, had it not been overcome by thirst.
For little more than a girl, I have traveled the unaware.
Slipping graciously to the warmth of Lizbet.
Early May, my land cloaked in flowers.
Road north, opened wide with longing.
To a land, still white with late snows.
Only my motorcycle, only it, armored against biting winds.
Quietly, ice floes retreat on the St. Lawrence.
Slipping graciously to the warmth of the Bay.
Deep fog horns penetrate the quiet, Bay of Gaspe, still dark..
In their wake, rise her body, rise hillsides breathing.
Forms indistinguishable.
A narcissus ready to open,
she offered herself until petals began to fall away.
The smell of her skin with mine, becoming indistinguishable.
Passion greater than senses mixed into languid sounds of early morning.
For little more than a girl, I have traveled the unaware.
Lulled by the late sunrise,
Once more, to slip graciously into her warmth.
She whispers gently, strongly accented "Finish your job".
Road weary, frostbitten, sleepless, yet, her taste entices me.
Smooth dark hair pressed against my face.
Finally she lets me drift away, gratefully.
Rising, she lights a fire for Norman.
Lizbet, satisfied, became our common language.
The silence was understanding.
Their day began.
I sleep, lulled by the late sunrise.
Passion greater than senses mixed into languid sounds of early morning.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 15, 2009
8.4.10
DARK WATERS
Swam the enigmatic distance.
Arrived on the other shore.
Left timidity of body and soul treading the dark waters.
Drowning.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 23, 2009
Arrived on the other shore.
Left timidity of body and soul treading the dark waters.
Drowning.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 23, 2009
NO LONGER TREAD WATER
Mind, swimming.
Thoughts, currents.
You flow.
I float.
You, reason I no longer tread water.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 29, 2009
Thoughts, currents.
You flow.
I float.
You, reason I no longer tread water.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 29, 2009
COLD RAIN
Read my mind.
Quite a sight.
Right there on Main St.
Walking naked in the cold rain.
Body, impervious, joyful.
Is it possible you've seen me, my friend?
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 2, 2009
Quite a sight.
Right there on Main St.
Walking naked in the cold rain.
Body, impervious, joyful.
Is it possible you've seen me, my friend?
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 2, 2009
STAND
I know how I stand with you.
So very unlike the way I stood before.
Thought I always understood before.
Now through you, my understanding grows.
I no longer stand still.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 24, 2009
So very unlike the way I stood before.
Thought I always understood before.
Now through you, my understanding grows.
I no longer stand still.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 24, 2009
BOING
You entered, .
Icing on the cake.
Positive energy given off, coming back, abundantly, boomerang style
Boing.
Intuitively searching for strengths, we strengthen.
To hell with flaws and weaknesses that serve the opposite.
Trust, teach, learn, rapt in wild expectation.
Boing.
We are.
Icing on the cake.
Positive energy given off,coming back,abundantly,boomerang style.
Boing.
Icing on the cake.
Positive energy given off, coming back, abundantly, boomerang style
Boing.
Intuitively searching for strengths, we strengthen.
To hell with flaws and weaknesses that serve the opposite.
Trust, teach, learn, rapt in wild expectation.
Boing.
We are.
Icing on the cake.
Positive energy given off,coming back,abundantly,boomerang style.
Boing.
ROOT
Sometimes you sow the weeds of ego.
Reminders to tend the earth.
You, yes, you the wind, you know who you are.
Up-root.
Words, scattered seeds on the wind.
Wilderness, nothing stationary.
You, you know who you are.
You, wind, you blew my words to wilder-ness.
There, they have taken root.
Reminders to tend the earth.
You, yes, you the wind, you know who you are.
Up-root.
Words, scattered seeds on the wind.
Wilderness, nothing stationary.
You, you know who you are.
You, wind, you blew my words to wilder-ness.
There, they have taken root.
ON MY PLANE
Go wherever you choose.
On my plane of existence.
Wiggle, jump, whirl, breath, sing, dance freely, take off.
In rapture, I watch your movements on the runway.
Sometimes you land, sometimes you don't.
Anywhere the ground is in relation to you, I am satified.
Know, my dearest, there will always enough be love for us both.
Whenever you fly with me.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 15, 2009
On my plane of existence.
Wiggle, jump, whirl, breath, sing, dance freely, take off.
In rapture, I watch your movements on the runway.
Sometimes you land, sometimes you don't.
Anywhere the ground is in relation to you, I am satified.
Know, my dearest, there will always enough be love for us both.
Whenever you fly with me.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 15, 2009
BLOOD FLOW
Sardonic damnation, scathing condemnation.
Blood flow to Vampiress of words.
Propitiation, cauterization.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 27, 2009
Blood flow to Vampiress of words.
Propitiation, cauterization.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 27, 2009
MUSIC OF MY LIFE
You, my comfort, as much as my challenge.
As much as I want to be close to you, I want to be far from you.
As much as I feel I know you, I feel I don't know you.
You, grounded, as much as in outerspace.
You, music of my life.
You, on my mind as much as out of my mind.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 10, 2009
As much as I want to be close to you, I want to be far from you.
As much as I feel I know you, I feel I don't know you.
You, grounded, as much as in outerspace.
You, music of my life.
You, on my mind as much as out of my mind.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 10, 2009
FAIRY EXTRAORDINARY
Fairy extraordinary.
Not to worry, I don't dare capture you.
It would ruin the magic spell.
Ooooh, just sprinkle my being with your fairy dust!
Fairy extraordinary, indeed!
JoAnn Chmielowski
January 16, 2009
Not to worry, I don't dare capture you.
It would ruin the magic spell.
Ooooh, just sprinkle my being with your fairy dust!
Fairy extraordinary, indeed!
JoAnn Chmielowski
January 16, 2009
NEWSPAPER, UNREAD
Twilight melancholia swirls in a wine glass, settlling comfortably into night's weariness.
Dawn too early to be noticed, still waits for day heralded by a newspaper, unread.
JoAnn Bertone
January 27, 2010
Dawn too early to be noticed, still waits for day heralded by a newspaper, unread.
JoAnn Bertone
January 27, 2010
HOLD ONTO NOTHING
I.
Fly.
Above.
Grinning.
Gravity, lost.
Hold onto nothing.
Gravity, lost.
Grinning.
Above.
Fly.
I.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
February 24, 2010
TIME FLASHES
Time flashes us, like a naked runner going by...swiftly, deftly.
It passes before we even realize what the hell it was we saw.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
February 21, 2010
It passes before we even realize what the hell it was we saw.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
February 21, 2010
7.4.10
EXPATRIATES OF MY MIND
Create words, then fondle them.
Bend them around, then dance with them.
Make love to them, then pick your nose with them.
Extirpate terms coined before they are thought,
Expatriates of my mind, spent, now under your reign.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
February 27, 2010
Bend them around, then dance with them.
Make love to them, then pick your nose with them.
Extirpate terms coined before they are thought,
Expatriates of my mind, spent, now under your reign.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
February 27, 2010
6.4.10
PERMEABLE
I have discovered that the worlds of poetry and music
are separated only by a permeable membrane.
And that each aspires to be like the other.
So much very like the love you express
with your written words
is the love you hear
between a cello
and
a
clarinet.
are separated only by a permeable membrane.
And that each aspires to be like the other.
So much very like the love you express
with your written words
is the love you hear
between a cello
and
a
clarinet.
UNDERBELLY
Music.
A state of constant desire
To touch the softest skin
Where it is the most vulnerable
Where it is the thinnest.
It runs its hands over us searching.
We freely allow it access to the underbelly.
We let nothing else touch us as deeply.
Nothing.
We have become capable of satisfying its desire fully.
And it, ours.
In total trust we let it stroke the underbelly.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski April 7, 2009
A state of constant desire
To touch the softest skin
Where it is the most vulnerable
Where it is the thinnest.
It runs its hands over us searching.
We freely allow it access to the underbelly.
We let nothing else touch us as deeply.
Nothing.
We have become capable of satisfying its desire fully.
And it, ours.
In total trust we let it stroke the underbelly.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski April 7, 2009
AWASH
Freestyle, my writing swims to you.
Violently dragged by your undertow.
Against your crashing waves.
It arrives on your shore, mouth full of salt.
Lungs bursting.
Its body, battered by your currents.
Its skin feels the abrasiveness of your sands.
At last, awash, it is so very alive.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 22, 2009
Violently dragged by your undertow.
Against your crashing waves.
It arrives on your shore, mouth full of salt.
Lungs bursting.
Its body, battered by your currents.
Its skin feels the abrasiveness of your sands.
At last, awash, it is so very alive.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 22, 2009
DEEP SEA FISHIN'
If ya phone ain't ringin', ya can be sure it's me callin'.
Don't even think of takin' it off the hook.
It ain't that easy.
And ya ain't off the hook either baby.
You, who is always floppin' 'round, a marlin in my thoughts.
Deep sea fishin', no land in sight, yep, that's me alright.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 8, 2009
Don't even think of takin' it off the hook.
It ain't that easy.
And ya ain't off the hook either baby.
You, who is always floppin' 'round, a marlin in my thoughts.
Deep sea fishin', no land in sight, yep, that's me alright.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 8, 2009
HANDS
So very learned, only touching what won't hurt or burn.
Willing or unwilling, I am in your hands as you are in mine.
Very cautious are these channels of the mind.
Used, abused.
Chafed, scarred.
Delicate, sensual, erotic.
Drawn, withdrawn, neurotic.
Open, vulnerable, reaching, closed, entwined.
Very cautious are these channels of the mind.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 12, 2009
Willing or unwilling, I am in your hands as you are in mine.
Very cautious are these channels of the mind.
Used, abused.
Chafed, scarred.
Delicate, sensual, erotic.
Drawn, withdrawn, neurotic.
Open, vulnerable, reaching, closed, entwined.
Very cautious are these channels of the mind.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
May 12, 2009
BRAIN SCAN
Dreams, conglomerates of people, places, experiences.
Each residing in different areas of the mind.
My imagination, very much like dreams.
You, the doctor, are reading my brain scan.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 21, 2009
Each residing in different areas of the mind.
My imagination, very much like dreams.
You, the doctor, are reading my brain scan.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
October 21, 2009
COLLATERAL TO SWEETNESS
Don't hold me back.
The tighter your grasp, the more resistance I need to use.
Let me go and you will still find me there, close beside you.
The only difference will be I now can breathe.
Colors are changing, but am I not the same being underneath?
Ripening fruit, in development, not mood.
Grant me impunity, it is collateral to sweetness.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 6, 2010
The tighter your grasp, the more resistance I need to use.
Let me go and you will still find me there, close beside you.
The only difference will be I now can breathe.
Colors are changing, but am I not the same being underneath?
Ripening fruit, in development, not mood.
Grant me impunity, it is collateral to sweetness.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 6, 2010
LITTLE MORE
Love you for little more than exactly who you are.
A deliverance of mind and spirit.
With no other intent.
This is real.
This is magic.
We stand in relation to both.
The little more is present in the song you put forth.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 9, 2009
A deliverance of mind and spirit.
With no other intent.
This is real.
This is magic.
We stand in relation to both.
The little more is present in the song you put forth.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 9, 2009
DARK WATERS
Swam the enigmatic distance.
Arrived on the other shore.
Left timidity of body and soul treading the dark waters.
Drowning.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 23, 2009
Arrived on the other shore.
Left timidity of body and soul treading the dark waters.
Drowning.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
June 23, 2009
THREADS
We weave and unweave with words the threads that muse.
Our naked skin cloaked in velvet, silk, burlap, crinoline, lace or polyester micro-fiber.
We fabricate.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 21, 2009
Our naked skin cloaked in velvet, silk, burlap, crinoline, lace or polyester micro-fiber.
We fabricate.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 21, 2009
EFFERVESCENCE
Alternate self meets "real" self in a sensuous embrace.
My lfelong fear of explosion, diminished to effervescence.
Bubbles rise up, surrounding things that are heavy.
Carrying them upward like feathers.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 30, 2009
My lfelong fear of explosion, diminished to effervescence.
Bubbles rise up, surrounding things that are heavy.
Carrying them upward like feathers.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
September 30, 2009
THE LIFE SENTENCE
No judge, nor jury.
No innocence, nor guilt.
No victim, nor perpetrator
No racketeering, nor embezzlement
The life sentence is the same for us all.
Love.
That's the life sentence.
I exhort you, commit the crime!
Or it will be the death sentence.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 12, 2009
No innocence, nor guilt.
No victim, nor perpetrator
No racketeering, nor embezzlement
The life sentence is the same for us all.
Love.
That's the life sentence.
I exhort you, commit the crime!
Or it will be the death sentence.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
November 12, 2009
COLD
Even after you were gone, you continued to give me warmth.
Finally, I too am cold.
Awake and shivering in the night
Waiting for spring.
Knowing full well that it will take time.
The glare of morning sun, my reminder it is still winter.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
January 22, 2010
Finally, I too am cold.
Awake and shivering in the night
Waiting for spring.
Knowing full well that it will take time.
The glare of morning sun, my reminder it is still winter.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
January 22, 2010
INTEREST
In some exquisite way,
My emotional bank account grows.
You, interest.
Love, compounds.
Keep the change.
Make life rich.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
January 14, 2009
My emotional bank account grows.
You, interest.
Love, compounds.
Keep the change.
Make life rich.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
January 14, 2009
5.4.10
PARACHUTE
Your parachute of love has deployed.
Safe to fall ever so gently, fall ever so gently, fall ever so gently, eyes closed.
Your parachute of love has deployed.
On the updraft, you drift, drift, drift to some exotic place, eyes closed.
Upon landing, eyes open.
Something beautiful beyond expectations awaits.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 15, 2009
Safe to fall ever so gently, fall ever so gently, fall ever so gently, eyes closed.
Your parachute of love has deployed.
On the updraft, you drift, drift, drift to some exotic place, eyes closed.
Upon landing, eyes open.
Something beautiful beyond expectations awaits.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
December 15, 2009
DRAGGED UP
Writing reflects.
In its mirror of reality or dreams, we evolve.
Often dragged up by our roots,
we are thus captured in its forum of unusual explorations.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 23, 2010
In its mirror of reality or dreams, we evolve.
Often dragged up by our roots,
we are thus captured in its forum of unusual explorations.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 23, 2010
WE TOOK THE LINOLEUM WITH US
The old Jew opened the door throwing down yet another great pile of tied-together Rogers-Peet men's black winter coats that would take up our whole kitchen floor. Mamma was lucky to get piece work that, having already been basted, would be finished all by hand, except for the side seams, of course. Those, she would stitch last on the Singer. Mamma, an expert on finish work, would always, always start with the velvety felt on the underside of the collars. She would continue with the front body linings and end with the sleeve linings. Then she would quickly sew up the side seams on the machine, Fascinated by the pedal, I would help her move the treadle by putting my foot on top of hers.Then came my turn to work for by myself. She showed me how to remove the basting work with the ivory rippers. Mamma rarely had to double check my work and did not need to at all by the time I was able start second grade. She continued to work when I was in school and couldn't help her, only taking off two days when my sister was born. Pappa took any work he could get. Once in a while some men would come down the street and call him about some paving work in the Holland Tunnel, which they were almost finished building.Pappa said something about it going far under the river somewhere and he would one day take me there. It sounded scary. One Tuesday, after he got home from the tunnel, he announced we were going to move again. This time mamma was relieved that it was close by, in the same tenement that Aunt Frances lived in, and we would be on the same floor! She also knew that the old Jew would still deliver and pick up the sewing there! The rent was cheaper, and though the rooms were much smaller, there was one extra bedroom, so my sister and I wouldn't have to sleep with mamma and pappa anymore! We had to move in the night. We took the linoleum with us, like always.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 1, 2010
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 1, 2010
MY MANOLO
My Manolo is late again
If only I could get out of this bed myself
He will kiss me on the head when he comes as he usually does
A sole act of compassion
From lips I never will taste
He will wash me, then take me out on the balcony for some sun
My Manolo is a good caregiver and cooks well
I love his fig cookies
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 24, 2010
If only I could get out of this bed myself
He will kiss me on the head when he comes as he usually does
A sole act of compassion
From lips I never will taste
He will wash me, then take me out on the balcony for some sun
My Manolo is a good caregiver and cooks well
I love his fig cookies
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 24, 2010
ORANGE AMARYLLIS
Even in strong wind, orange amaryllis in stately rows stand erect
remembering beautiful, perfect, ripe fruits left uneaten
for both will enter a state of decrepitude all too soon.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 30, 2010
remembering beautiful, perfect, ripe fruits left uneaten
for both will enter a state of decrepitude all too soon.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
March 30, 2010
R-RATED PIANO LESSON
High, low, in-between.
Make love to 88 keys,
Feel how they yield to the slightest pressure,
and the richness of the depths you take them to.
For each is a skillful lover waiting for a cue.
Touch again the ones that have vibrated the soul.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 1, 2010
Make love to 88 keys,
Feel how they yield to the slightest pressure,
and the richness of the depths you take them to.
For each is a skillful lover waiting for a cue.
Touch again the ones that have vibrated the soul.
JoAnn Bertone Chmielowski
April 1, 2010
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