In Love Play, A Collage Poem, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

In Love Play

A Collage Poem

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

(Using words and phrases from the Kama Sutra, translated by Alain Danielou; along with my own words and phrases).

 

 

One must put up with risks,

but there are benefits—such as paradise.

 

Time awakens that which sleeps—

that which is born of the sun.

 

When we enter the house of the soul

we will think we have entered a theater.

 

We must keep our aims in mind:

the whirl of pleasure,

the love play,

the kissing, biting, scratching,

the offering of ourselves to one another

as mangoes open for the eating.

 

Without being parsimonious of time,

let our amorous dalliance go journeying through flowery arbors

(love is easy in gardens on carpets of flowers).

 

Just as fire burns the dead, our doubts are consumed

in flames of our own making.

 

Let us manifest the invisible;

Let us float in eternity—a full-blown lotus.

 

Creation is born when hearts drum;

When vivid-sandalwood-scented answers embellish the night.

 

Let us mark the sacred signs on each other’s brow,

for love is not learned alone.

 

 


When We Delight, A Collage Poem, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

When We Delight

A Collage Poem

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

(Using words and phrases found in the book, The Art Spirit, by Robert Henri, published, 1923, along with my own words and phrases.)

 

 

Things overlap as memories

carrying one another

to other revelations

of ourselves.

 

Remember:

a triangle is moving towards us—

a passageway into rooms where we see beyond

the usual, where forms reorganize themselves

in infinite simplicity.

 

There are echoes everywhere

of the song within us—

marvel at it—joyous and clear—

the sense of all contained.

Into these rooms we carry what we know.

 

But we are not here to do what has already been done.

There are still more pages possible.

 

Even though our souls ring cracked—

we must tell of our trip around beauty,

we must tell of our wonderful drifting in and out

of the crowds, where dancers appear

perhaps as surprised to see us

as we are of them.

 

There is value in such revelations—

of being sketch-hunters of the least parts.

There are openings everywhere

when we delight in the constant hatchings.

We are moments of sky.

Nothing exists for itself.

 

 


The Song of Songs, A Collage Poem, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

The Song of Songs

A Collage Poem

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

(Using words and phrases from the book: “Violin Playing as I Teach It,” by Leopold Auer, published 1921, arranged and blended with my own words and phrases).

 

 

In case you find yourself aware

(there is nothing trifling about that—

nothing beyond question)

of the delicate sense of proportion

joining you with the eternal

vibrato of the soul,

 

allow yourself to be

carried away by the unexpected

burst of joyous sonority.

You will be unable to resist

the calling forth a tone

that holds and unfolds

all that is good.

 

Your whole body is song.

Sing for the sheer pleasure

of who you are.

 

Transpose as you see fit,

catch the reflections of resonances

falling and rising sometimes round,

full, sonorous; sometimes almost

imagined in the necessary silences

woven with the portamento

merging all songs together.

 

A virtuoso exists for music,

and you were born from tones spun

from the song of songs,

making you a bridge of octaves and keys

connecting the ground

of long experiences

passed soul to soul

for the good of all.

 

 

 

 


Taste Yourself, A Collage Poem, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Taste Yourself

A Collage Poem

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

Using words and phrases rearranged from, “Sex for One: The Joy of Self-Loving,” by Betty Dobson, PHD, combined with my own words and phrases.

 

 

 

Gather yourself

even though

you were taught to hide.

 

Let pleasure beget pleasure.

 

See the joyous windmills

whirl in the hedonistic heaven

where you belong–honest

to goodness.

 

Embellish the valentine cunt,

the sacred, wing-shrouded clitoris

with your own spit,

do fieldwork across your body,

remember the peripheries,

remember your nipples

are pebbles in the moon-

dappled waters of your soul–

feel the vibrator’s hum.

 

There are infinite delights

in the divine preorgasmic madness

shaking through your legs.

 

Through the happy little orgasms

laughing with you—go ahead—

unravel yourself—

 

shout your life-affirming coming

across America, across repression,

across what was written by men,

across what was taught

at home and church–go ahead—

taste yourself—

this is the gospel of truth.

 

 


Set Forth in Such a Way, A Collage Poem, By Jennifer Angelina

Set Forth in Such a Way,

A Collage Poem

By

Jennifer Angelina

(Using words and phrases arranged from the book, Piano Tuning, by J. Cree Fischer, pub. 1907,

with a few added by me)

 

 

Set forth in such a way

as to charm the soul.

Along these lines–slow,

and uncertain, soft and loud,

bridges communicate just

what you are fitted for.

 

Plod among the thousands.

Strike the common chord.

Notice how it sustains itself in the air.

 

Let it be in balance, extending hearty

and strong, through the inevitable

inferences of trees and mountains.

Let it simply lift and go beyond yourself.

 

Notice how difficult it is to produce

something that has never existed,

and yet, you do it anyway.

 

Place yourself within want, and then,

Sing your own fulfillment as you fall

entirely back to resting position.

 

 

 

 

 


 


Extol Your Own Glory, A Collage Poem, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Extol Your Own Glory

A Collage Poem

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Let whatever be the path

be the path.

One may wander a long time

for the good of the world.

 

Arise from conviction, full power,

steadfast—beguile the doubts—

smear their foreheads with red saffron.

 

The core of everything,

the bliss of the self,

the spark of goodness encircled by bees—

these are undivided in the divine madness

of your desire to taste the soul.

 

Killing and death are everywhere.

The tusk of the boar is near.

Extol your own glory,

be the proof of the wish,

enjoy the sweetness,

forsake no one.

The dust of your holy feet

rises as you go.

 

 

 

 

Using words and phrases found in the book: “The Thousand Names of the Divine Mother,” by Sri Lalita Sahasranama, along with my own.



No Body Else but Yours, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

No Body Else but Yours

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Listen, trees

breathe you

breath drawn

from roots,

drawn from darkness,

that, in turn,

breathe the earth

cradled in arms

that spiral stars

with revolutions

of joy.

 

The next time

you feel wind

on your face,

know you are dear

to the heart

of the world;

how you are

touched

with eternity

breathed

from lungs

of love and sighs,

that are, in turn,

born from a longing

for nothing more

than a glance

that is no body

else’s but yours.

 

 

 

 


 

 



Go with the Spiraling, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Go with the Spiraling

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Morning swirls away

the dreams that visit

our sleep, as a Buddhist monk

brushes away a mandala

that took forever to create.

And just as the monk

collects the grains of sand

into a silken covered bowl

and pours them into a river,

so too our dreams are gathered

into a bowl—but this time—

made of birdsong, and scattered

into the day.

 

It is the same with butterflies

waking up from wherever it is

butterflies sleep—a puff

of tiny scales releases into the air

from the dream of their wings

as they quaver towards fields of light.

 

It isn’t enough to wish.

Go with the spiraling, brilliant

sands of the dissolving mandala,

follow the butterflies

into clouds of flowers,

merge with this moment

as the future merges with you.