A Musing
Thoughts come
rising
without warning
traveling
through rich scented earth
and wet grass
inhaled, slowly
way down to my feet
and out through
my deeply embedded toes
that throw off
shimmers of dew
that glisten on trees
and alight the horizon
Copyright ©2005
poem by Adryan Rotica
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Home is Where the Heart Is
We are a circle
where we roam
near or far
it is our home
we are home
Any place
we come to be
just remember
you're with me
where ever we are
we are home
(where ever we are
we are home)
There are times
you look so lost
stand with me
and be a part
of the home
in my heart
our home is
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poem by Adryan Rotica
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A-m-e-r-i-c-a
I love America
even tho'
the dance is done
and children
run to the war
in Afganistan
I love America
even tho
I am being held hostage
in a dream
I love America
when the trees turn green
and it's all beautiful
I love America
the false reality'
that is on TV
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Incestuous
My father
The Emperor
we were companions
After all,
we had a sexual relationship
I expected you to be married...
but, I loved you my father,
as one who devotes his love
to loving his daughter.
I kept secret,
the fantasy of our erotic dreams-
Pleasures, arousing
pure love, in our sexual behavior
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poem by Adryan Rotica
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The Crossing Line
Split down the middle
two hearts
beat for love,
trespassing vows
that betray trust,
to find a balance
without destroying
their other halves
Two lines crossed
in secret,
betray trust
to find the balance between,
trespassed vows
Two hearts
yearning for love,
betray trust
to yearn for love
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Black Elk Speaks
The power of the world
always works in circles.
The sky is round,
and I have heard
the earth is round
like a ball,
and so are all the stars.
The wind,
in its greatest power, whirls.
Birds make their nests
in circles,
for theirs is the same religion as ours.
The sun
comes forth and goes down
in a circle
The moon does the same.
And both always come back
to where they were.
The life of man is a circle
from childhood to childhood.
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poem by Adryan Rotica
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Sunday's Child
Sunday's child is always praying
for the right thing to come
what she can't see, is the truth
inside of her
not something else
Sunday's child is always praying
for someone else to come
what she can't see, is the source
inside of her
not somebody else
How do you contemplate outside yourself
when you are infinite?
Can't you see, come full circle child,
you are it!
Two hands clapping make one sound
where does that come from?
There's no one around
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poem by Adryan Rotica
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New York; A State of Being
Bleary eyed
''coffee, make that to go''
keep up
don't loose pace
going uptown
grab that cab
take a sip
gets you where
you got to go
walking fast
feel the beat
concrete slaps
beneath your feet
brand new shoes
click and burn
worth every pinch
just to make men's
heads turn
they check you out
baby, you got heat
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Where There Is A Hole
our lives
interwove...
now
un-darned threads
release the mistake...
a knowing
that is
an end to the end...
splendid isolation
is all you ever needed
not me...
the very last kiss
was the only link to love...
you don't need anyone
in splendid isolation
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poem by Adryan Rotica
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So Much Hate
so much hate
so much hate
when did there become
so much hate?
I seem to remember
a time when
they said there was
a fine line between
love and hate
now,
so much hate
so much hate
when did there become
so much hate?
a time......
long time ago
when there was
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poem by Adryan Rotica
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