Meditations: Poetry from Spirit
The
following are poems excerpted from my book of poetry entitled "MEDITATIONS". All
of these poems reflect an aspect of the meditative, trance or altered state of
consciousness. These poems were either written "in trance" or written about the
trance or meditative state. I hope you
enjoy them!
Amy Bortner-Gialuco
MEDITATION #1: Breath Meditation
In the stillness of the breath,
I rise and fall like the tides,
a swirling coalescence of self,
a lifting of the spirit....
and a sudden release!
a swirling, tumbling hiss... of time/space/motion
spewed out in contraction of muscle and fiber,
filling the vacuum up, and pushing out with new momentum
against the boundaries of breath and concentration.
And I am pushed into a sudden shoreline of new laws and forces,
where, leaving all space and time,
withdraw into the womb of my imagination...
and carry myself out a window,
where... I see myself lying and breathing.
and concentrating and being,
... so simply being...and so simply breathing,
And I pause....
and I feel the blood rushing back,
and I hear the pulse in my ear,
and I fall, fall back
into the bodies existence...
For I breathe in again, and I am renewed
and I breathe in again, and like the opalescent waves
swirling in the night's magic,
heaving with it's earth force and tumbling against the shoreline,
I carry myself back to this distance,
with promises like the gentle waves before...
And the breath pushes me on,
and I am renewed again,
For the breath pushes me on, and I no longer feel my breath,
nor see my face, nor utter the words....
for the breath pushes me on, and pushes me on and pushes me on,
and on, and on, and on,... and on, and on, and on,
.... and on, and on, and on .......
OM SHANTI.... SHANTI OM.....OM SHANTI ..... SHANTI OM...
To everyone's amazement,
the earth heaved a sigh,
it's rumbling could be heard,
the stumbling herds,
with rambunctious peaks
and barren lows.
When the earth moved it's fingers,
yellow birds fluttered....
When the earth moved it's hands...
the mountains heaved their unyielding burden.
When the earth stood still,
it could hear it's own heart,..
it went "Whoosh, whoosh!
honk, honk!
Zap!, Boing!... and 'merrily we roll along'
to the trills of thunder,
peals of laughter,
and the sonorous tones of the immaculate gong!...
To everyone's amazement,
the earth took a breath,
and it exploded it's heat and hunger
into the shadows of the night.
It's wings took fire, it's heart, pitter-patter...
and it laughed at its own mechanics,
so slow and steady, the cycles of time...
measuring his breath, measuring his laughter.
And the earth stood still,
and to everyone's amazement,
listened to the sounds of his own body,
patted the air,
caressed the seas....and kissed the mountains, and rubbed his eyes
with the etheric sense, the only sense,
of wonder, possible...
for delight and amusement at his own self-preoccupation...
was certainly everyone's amazement!
The thoughts were flung out,
and coalesced along points, outside of reach,
fine matter and sand, oozing....
they shimmered,...at the beach.
Eels played, the rays targeted in the
noon sun,
overcome by the waves of vowel formations,
marched along lines of distinction,
the sound, the sound, the orb shimmering,...
the sound again!
All fell through the bands of black,
which became muddied, indistinct,....unclear
falling through the lines,
the words played until they were
animal-like,.... animal caresses, they
shimmered on points, on stars, on seas,
until,...again, they coalesced on wave formations,
cooking in time, on time, pulsating...
OM ....OM......OM....OM....OM....
We are the brethren of consciousness,
We are the souls from which you spring forth,
We are the entities by which you call yourself "one",
We are the breath of life and fire.
We urge you to create your world,
We encourage you to seek out new visions.
We seek new visions, for the other worlds.....
We seek new visions....
for we are the" Speakers", we are the seekers....
Love life, for it is a dance,
Love life, as it is, not as it will be.
Love life, for it is a treasure, a gift, a plaything,
from the 'gods' of your own consciousness.
Sing to your consciousness,
"I love you",
for you are the root and the trunk
and the branches of a tree,
which blooms and blossoms continuously.
A flower is a song, is a bird, is the wind,
A flower is all that belongs for the find.
Look inside your consciousness,
Look inside your mind's eye.
See the treasures unfolding,
the jewels, the sparkling gems,
they shine with light, with love,
For we are the "Speakers",
the delvers, the seekers.
The movers and the growers, from which you have come forth.
For we are the people, the nations,
the countries of the psyche,
of many,... of many more to come,
of many, ...of many to come......
I am a light drawn magnet,
I am a sea of brightly colored fishes
that wax and wend their way,
through waters of color.
My eye is purple, then red, then green
My hair is on fire, then ice, then sea.
My tongue is silver, is wool, is brown
my legs feel long, then thin, then round.
My many colored coat of clothes, of eyes,
of teeth and hair,
comes swimming to you in a shimmery light,
and swims round about, thru chairs, through doors and windows lit.
A candle is burning in my eyes,
my legs are running, are churning
foamy waters,
sea bright and green
I float my way, changing colors,
rapid, like the night,
I change colors,
like the light.
I change colors......
In the corridor of the alleyway,
sits a boy who has been in many adventures.
But now, his clothes are dirty and his history uncertain
and his mind often travels back to the time when
he was the wonder of eighth avenue
hiding behind the shoe bins of the cheap market stalls,
lurking in the penny arcades,
a desperado among the junkies.
He was a magician of sorts, as he had the
power
to make real his dreams and fantasies.
and he often fantasized about being Superman,
or Nick the Red, he wore a cape and turning into
Count Dracula, he would chase away the girls who
wandered into the dollar movie.
Never caught up with the law, because he
was invisible,
nobody saw him, you see. Nobody cared to say who he was,
only he knew...
and then there were the movies, the film takes,
reels of dreams to make true,
returning to his magic warehouse to capture their essence.
Chewing gum, stalking on tender point
sneakers,
holding a film clip in hand, he escaped yet another bus,
another outstretched hand, a glint in the eye....
with a knowing look at the bus driver, he flew down the street,
with somebody's memory in his hot clutched hands.
To the penny arcade, with the pinballs
rolling,
he could feel their movement, see the colors of the figures,
rolling out in celluloid precision,
the heat and the pressure would push on his fingers,
and he would make score after score after score.
dreaming up new adventures, in the Congo,
the High Sierra's,
African fragrance drifting through stale beer,
cold hands, muffled voices and our magician was working hard,
steadily influencing the game, his mind, other's fantasies,
creating more films out of bubble gum in black dialect and brooklynese.
the outlandish alchemy, the surreal
sensations,
the vivid intoxication, the magician created his world around him,
spinning and spinning around, the vortex never slowing,
drawing him nearer to the night and his fantasies.
Garden Poetry
This is a new series of poems about my thoughts and feelings about nature and gardening. The first of these poems were created by shuffling around words from a magnetic poetry box.
Amy Bortner-Gialuco
"Spring Growth"
Wild tendrils emerge
from a secret sanctuary
thick with life, they murmur
their quiet longing...
for an ancient eden
in the early morning wind.
"Color
Sanctuary"
A wild cloud explodes
in the blue like air
Soft tendrils of light
reflecting red, green and yellow...
I breathe in this secret
that summer is approaching
with a sweet murmur.
RUMI
"The saints come to the rescue of this world
when hearing from everywhere the moans of the oppressed. They run towards them
like God's mercy. These fortresses against weakness, these doctors of hidden
disease, Are pure love, pure justice, pure mercy; like God they are unstained
and impregnable."
