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| Abstract Collage 2017 by Marie Bortolotto |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 A Way A way to pure joy is in the morning sunlight's hiyo bird chanting from the swaying top of a tall bamboo. Glimpsed between the other swaying fronds and blue sky beyond the yellowed blades of leaves, he calls. I answer. He answers back. Again and again until whether it is his sounds or mine is gone and I am bird, sunlight, long swaying fronds. - Edith Shiffert 1916-2017, American Poet |
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| Artist Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 Poems by Stonehouse I move my bookstand to read sutras by moonlight I honor the buddhas with a vase of wild flowers. A hundred years slip by when you are free ten thousand cares dissolve when you are still. Stonehouse (1271 - 1352) Chinese Zen Monk Poet |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolo |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 I just discovered Benedetto Marcello 1686 - 1739 born in Venice Italian composer, writer, advocate, magistrate and teacher. These were all painted to Marcello's sonatas and psalms. |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 Noisy city - I long for silence. - Marie Bortolotto Don't disturb me, I'm writing poems to save myself from silly poems. - Marie Bortolotto it's late. The night is silent. I sit alone, listening for poems that fly in the dark. - Marie Bortolotto the hungry city encroaches on my dreams. Where can they hide? - Marie Bortolotto the idleness of a summer breeze - moving shadows at my feet. - Marie Bortolotto Walking, walking, walking. I escape the clickety clack of the city. - Marie Bortolotto |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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Marie Bortolotto 2017
I’m on the trail to Cold Mountain.
Cold Mountain trail never ends.
Long clefts thick with rock and stones,
Wide streams buried in dense grass.
Slippery moss, but there’s been no rain,
Pine trees sigh, but there’s no wind.
Who can leap the world’s net,
Sit here in the white clouds with me?
- Han Shan, Cold Mountain, Chinese Hermit c. 800AD
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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Marie Bortolotto 2017
Someone criticized the Master of Cold Mountain:
"Your poems make no sense at all."
"But from what I have read of the ancients,"
I said,
"They weren't ashamed to be poor and humble."
He laughed at my words and answered,
"How can you talk such foolishness?"
"Then go on, my friend, as you are today.
Let money be your whole life for you!"
- Han-shan, Poet of Cold Mountain, Chinese Hermit c800AD
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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Marie Bortolotto 2017
Poem by Cold Mountain
If there’s something good, delight!
Seize the moment while it flies!
Though life can last a hundred years,
Who’s seen their thirty thousand days?
Just an instant then you’re gone.
Why sit whining over things?
When you’ve read the Classics through,
You’ll know quite enough of death.
Han-shan, c.800AD, Chinese Hermit, Poet at Cold Mountain
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 Random Free Form Haiku by Marie Bortolotto 2017 Perhaps I shall walk all day? - Marie Bortolotto I'm not afraid of silence. - Marie Bortolotto 2017 Don't waste a moment thinking. - Marie Bortolotto One crow searching for a worm. - Marie Bortolotto I long to roam. - Marie Bortolotto I don't know. I just don't know. - Marie Bortolotto Is there some path I should be on? - Marie Bortolotto Have I lost my way? Or is this the Way? - Marie Bortolotto Remember to listen. - Marie Bortolotto A white hat. - Marie Bortolotto The clouds have moved in. - Marie Bortolotto Where can I go? ...just keep walking. - Marie Bortolotto I wander because I am free. - Marie Bortolotto |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 This body's lifetime is like a bubble's by Shiwu (Stonehouse) 14th C. Zen Monk Hermit This body's lifetime is like a bubble's may as well let things go plans and events seldom agree who can step back doesn't worry we blossom and fade like flowers we gather and part like clouds earthly thoughts I forgot long ago withering away on a mountain peak |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 To glorify the way what should people turn to to words and deeds that agree but oceans of greed never fill up and sprouts of delusion keep growing a plum tree in bloom purifies a recluse a patch of potatoes cheers a lone monk but those who follow rules in their huts never see the way or get past the mountain - Shiwu (Stonehouse) 14th c. Zen Monk Hermit |
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| Artwork by Marie Bortolotto 2017 Scorpion tails and wolf hearts overrun the world everyone has a trick to get ahead but how many smiles in a lifetime how many moments of peace in a day who knows a toppled cart means try another track when trouble strikes there is no time for shame this old monk isn't just talking he's trying to remove your obstacles and chains - Stonehouse, 14th Century Zen Monk Hermit |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 Last Night As I Was Sleeping Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that a spring was breaking out in my heart. I said: Along which secret aqueduct, Oh water, are you coming to me, water of a new life that I have never drunk? Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures. Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that a fiery sun was giving light inside my heart. It was fiery because I felt warmth as from a hearth, and sun because it gave light and brought tears to my eyes. Last night as I slept, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that it was God I had here inside my heart. - Antonio Machado, Spanish Poet 1875 - 1939 A Dream Within a Dream Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? -Edgar Allan Poe, American Writer 1809 - 1849 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 The Voice There is a voice inside of you that whispers all day long, 'I feel that this is right for me, I know that this is wrong.' No teacher, preacher, parent, friend or wise man can decide what's right for you - just listen to the voice that speaks inside. Shel Silverstein |
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Marie Bortolotto 2017
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2017 |
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Art by Marie Bortolotto 2017
I was silent all day,
Facing the sea,
The tide came up.
- Taneda SantÅka, Japanese Haiku Poet 1882 - 1940
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