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Meta
Tag Archives: heart
Winter
Pane of glass, frosted, Winter’s pulse slowed to dream deep– Bare heart’s hidden spring.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged haiku, heart, John Biscello, josef sudek, poem, Poetry, prague, seasons, spring, window, Winter
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Sorrow
The one we love, maimed– incident of karmic fate or the heart in flames?
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged bible, doll, Enchanted Doll, haiku, heart, John Biscello, john the baptist, love, Marina Bychkova, obsession, passion, poem, Poetry, salome, sorrow
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Pillow
Heaven-rent pillow, to have, to hold, to protect– Fall wind blowing cold.
Mother Teresa
Piety, unflinching, gaze of a thousand suns, rising, setting– heart guiding a numinous row.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged grace, heart, John Biscello, love, mother teresa, numinous, piety, poem, Poetry, saint, spirituality
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When Helen Met Charlie
Clown’s soft, open face, Braille for tender reception– found in translation.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Braille, charlie chaplin, clown, haiku, heart, helen keller, John Biscello, photo, poem, Poetry, touch, tramp
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Gateway
It is here in this place, this chaste hollow, where my heart, bare to touch and asking, reveals itself in equal measures as gospel and wound, singing softly its locks and ravels to reach another’s lighted room, unbarred.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged heart, John Biscello, Literary, love, poem, Poetry
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Scar
A jigsaw scar of light, outsourcing God’s inscrutable heart, a movable sear lost and found everywhere, as the mouth of the cave brightly attests.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged cave, God, heart, John Biscello, Light, puzzle, scar
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Call
Channeling the fire in my throat to meet my heart’s rising call, or, how the mating of arson and grace breathes new life into immeasurably just cause.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged arson, call, fire, grace, heart, John Biscello, Literary, Poetry
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Bellwether
Lidless, the fluent graze of dispersive light, Braille for the heart by which to envision, or, how a river of eyes, vim and bellwethered, cite Forgiveness to tow the pending divide.
Totem
Here, her mother said, pressing something into her palm. A pinch. A pinch, breaking skin, spreading blush and heat. She looked down—her palm now tattooed with a tangle of dark glyphs; a concert of spirals, curlicues … Continue reading
John Biscello 