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.

 

 

 

 


 


Maybe, Just Maybe, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Maybe, Just Maybe

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

One line stumbles over into another,

and then that line into another, until maybe,

just maybe, a road appears,

 

or a river, and you go somewhere

with someone you do not know,

pointing out land marks, and local fauna,

 

stopping now and then, to look up

at the hawk gliding without effort,

silent as a thought.

 

Up ahead gradually arrives,

and you notice your shadows

have moved from in front of you

 

to behind you, until, maybe,

just maybe, the road rises,

and the beginning begins.

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 


Bees Lead the Way, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Bees Lead the Way

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

It’s ok to shelter your heart.
Elegant safety, full of grace, full of heaven,
necessary shadows cradle the light,

bells ring softly, sound merging with forgiveness,
blending with the readying to let go,

bees lead the way to sweet sacristies,
wings thrumming with light,
lifting the sun from holy darkness.

 

 

 

 

 


 


Mondegreen, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

Mondegreen

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

The wind said something

that mixed with the hum

of bees and distant lawn mowers.

What it said may have sifted through.

It may have touched my ever-listening.

 

Standing on the road, searching

the sky, I watch the way

trees sway and wave,

and a pause descends, like

a wish, except palpable, like

a sigh.

 

The message means

to find my spirit—wind woven

with wind. It seeks me, like

the fragrance of freesia seeking

the bee.

 

There is work to be done.  I know

that much.  What it is

is a ribbon drifting, lifting away.

 

So many missteps have befallen

the road.  So many turns missed.

So many dead ends, which, in all

actuality, do not exist.  Nevertheless,

I strive to listen, to get it right. To breathe

what the wind said, hoping

the message will nuzzle its way

through my body, caressing

desire, and once again guide my steps

to many unexpected

blessings.