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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 |
June 14, 2017
May 31, 2017
May 17, 2017
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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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May 15, 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 |
May 11, 2017
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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 |
April 19, 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 |
April 17, 2017
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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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Art by Marie Bortolotto 2017
I was silent all day,
Facing the sea,
The tide came up.
- Taneda Santōka, Japanese Haiku Poet 1882 - 1940
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March 27, 2017
March 22, 2017
February 27, 2017
January 4, 2017
December 30, 2016
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| Marie Bortolotto 2016 I love this poem: The Way It Is There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old. Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding. You don’t ever let go of the thread. William Stafford, American Poet, 1914 - 1993 |
December 29, 2016
December 28, 2016
December 27, 2016
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