Poetic Sketch
© Marie Bortolotto 2024


favored friends

two black cats
sprawl on the sidewalk

an invitation for me
to scratch their backs

Poetic Sketches
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

1/

walking
breathing
walking
breathing


 a stroke survivor crosses the intersection
 a stroke survivor crosses the intersection
 a stroke survivor crosses the intersection
 a stroke survivor crosses the intersection


breathing
walking
breathing
walking

2/



we, as humans

REMINISCE
about the past

and

DREAM
about the future

two ways to evade

LIVING
from the heart

Visit my other site at  IMAGINAL VOICES

Marie Bortolotto Artist

 

Poetic Sketches
© Marie Bortolotto 2024


1/

walking
walking

a duck
with
her
brood
of chicks

cross a busy roadway

ah --
my
heart
bursts
open

uncertainty
in every step

2/

walk on
walk on

remember --
what appears
in front of you

soon
disappears
behind you

Haiku Sketch
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

walking
walking

there's no end


to the landscapes
breathing through me


Visit my other site at  IMAGINAL VOICES

 

The person is anchored within a greater, universal identity.

Salt remnants of ancient oceans flow through our veins,

ashes of expired stars rekindle in our genetic chemistry.

Theodore Roszak (2001).

 

Haiku Sketches
© Marie Bortolotto 2024


1/

the first rose blooms
pink



2/

silence:
the garden lends itself
to secret whisperings



3/

wake-up
a birdsong opens my heart
to Everything



4/

lofty thoughts -
blue mountains tower
over my head

Marie Bortolotto

When the mind is truly at peace,
wherever you are is pleasant,

Whether you live in a marketplace
or in a mountain hermitage.

― Baisao, The Old Tea Seller (1675–1763) Japanese Zen Monk

Last Breath
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

fallen trees

executed for treason

in the Kingdom of Progress

hanged
drawn
quartered:

D
E
D  E  A  D
A
D

chainsawed
carcasses
reposing

on
concrete
crypts

an epitaph reads --


OUR VERDANT LIVES WERE CUT SHORT BY
THE CONTAGION OF HUMAN INGRATITUDE!

WHO AMONG THEM IS STILL BREATHING NOW?

The Return
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

It is rumoured that the Crone of Lughnasa returned from
a perilous voyage into the bowels of the netherworld with
a mere handful of unsprouted seeds,

which she promptly cultivated into a voluminous oration
of sounds -- but only those with ears listened.

The rest preferred watching seductive, less sonorous sirens
on their fallow screens of light.

Visit my other site at  IMAGINAL VOICES

 "Noli timere" (Latin: "Be not afraid")

-Last words of Seamus Heaney (to his wife) before he died

Vessels of Remembrance
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

Hungry ghosts:

unsettled dust

from the past,

they who consume

life

and suckle rivers

dry --

the wise potter

learns

to exhume

vessels of remembrance

from the remains

of yesterday's clay.


Visit my other site at  IMAGINAL VOICES

Poetic Sketch
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

morning

walking
walking

urban traffic

walking
walking

urban construction


walking
walking

urban Babel

walking
walking


urban clouds
of Dust


walking
walking

I take shelter
under a canopy
of Songbirds

in
Spring

Visit my other site at  IMAGINAL VOICES

Poetic Sketches
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

an
old
woman's
cane

taps out

a rhythmic lament

on
the
sidewalk

of  impermanence

 

 

Visit my other site at  IMAGINAL VOICES

Marie Bortolotto

 

 

walk on
walk on

walk on

there's no end
to the odyssey
of wonderment

omg!

I just saw
an emerald-sheathed
Hummingbird!

 

© Marie Bortolotto 2024

African Congo Drum Music - Sounds of Enchantment

lost
in a necropolis
of words

my Heart

finds
refuge
in the utterances
of Aliveness

© Marie Bortolotto 2024

Plant Your Feet
© Marie Bortolotto 2024


Overhead --

a cacophony
of crows

wake-up

wake-up

wake-up

they chant,

untether yourself

from

nefarious

chains

of

thought,

start walking

NOW!

Plant your feet

in

the

fertile

ground

of

Everything.

"Plant Your Feet" -- © Marie Bortolotto 2024

Ituri Pygmies - Polyphonic Voices of the deep rain forest

Voices

Listen,

the voices
you hear

in

your

head,

aren't yours
after all --

 

they're 

just 

the
pneumatic
sounds

of those

whom

you've exiled

from
your
heart.

© Marie Bortolotto 2024

 

Your heart is full of fertile seeds
waiting to sprout.

Morihei Ueshiba

 

Haiku Sketches
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

 

3 am --
riding the nightmare of thought

 

3 am again --
time trickles
through silence

a birdsong escapes
the afternoon haze

 

a rose waits
for the moment of bloom

Possibilities
© Marie Bortolotto 2024

Your gift rests

with the Page of Cups,

a lowly
tarot
messenger.

What will you make of it?

 

Such a long journey
home

drifting

in
streams
of
marauding
crocodiles,

you wash-up,
suddenly,

on
a
sandbank
of
honey.

 

Sit
and
feast.

Don''t rush!

Write
sonnets
to
invisible
lovers.

Allow
time

to swallow you

whole

into
a new
landscape

of possibilities.

walking
every day
a miracle

- © Marie Bortolotto 2024

 

© Marie Bortolotto 2024

"Primordial Voices" - Marie Bortolotto Artist

 

© Marie Bortolotto 2024

 

Biwa Hoshi - Japanese Troubadour Priest
 

 Ancient Japanese Bronze Bells

Marie Bortolotto Art 2024

 

Japanese Kabuki
 

Marie Bortolotto 2024