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

BIG CHANGE

"Way I figure it, big change, not bucked, is really only small change, and spend it we must". ~jbc 6/23/10

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

"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

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

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