I speak for those

Photo by Wade Austin Ellis on Unsplash

I speak for those
who do not speak for themselves
I speak for those
who can not speak for themselves

I speak for myself, true
yet we are all more together
than some might think

I speak for life,
all forms of life
not only myself
not only my kind
but for plants
and trees
and dogs
and snails
and moon jellies
all burning in my distance

I speak for those
who do not look like me
I speak for those
who do not have voices like me
I speak for those
whose silence is too often
mistaken for consent

I speak for those
who have no voice,
for if they did
they would say what we do not want to hear.

“Love us,” they would say.
“Love us, as we love you.”
Even though
You rape and maim and kill
All we know is love
(love, and function
but mostly love)
And therefore we ask
All you must do
is simply love
love us,
as we love you.


Posted by ThreeOwlMedia in Poetry, 0 comments

Surrender to Self

Photo by Slava B on Unsplash

It’s easy
to fall back
on old works,

no one knows
no one cares
so it’s easier
to just put them forward
as if
I’d just written them.

Yes, no one knows
no one but me
and it would eat away at me
pretending like that.

So when
the tiniest bit of hope
of inspiration
the most infinitesimal jot
and tittle
of Love —
when that hit,
there I was,
pen already in hand
with a fortuitously placed notebook.

And here I write
images of a poem-a-day
dancing madly in my head,
derived from demented ballerinas
and here I sit
following the Voice of God
as it whispers in my head
in a thundering sort of way

surrendering, surrendering
I’ve found
is my highest goal.

Surrendering to my Self.


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Water Over Whispers

Water Over Whispers

Let us close the door
behind us,
shut the world away.

Slowly, slowly, off
slip our clothes.

It is as if gods
were releasing their essence
we are those gods,
you and I
deep in the eyes
our arms raising.

Hush —
let us do without words
only sighs
only whispers
only glances
only touches
soft and gentle

Before you, someone made the Earth
and the moon
and the comet,
fire in the pitch of space.

What will we make, you and I?
a rush of blood and water,
a tropical sun,
moonrise over a mountain
a mighty river’s murmur
in her bed.

The gods watch over us.
Time himself attends us,
standing stock still.
Even their keen stares cannot hold back
the first word we speak:


Posted by John Onorato in Poetry, 0 comments
Stemming the Tide

Stemming the Tide

Let me see you —
my eyes light on you
from across the room.

you meet my gaze
and smile.

Oh, heaven!

It is
as if
I see you
for the first time —
branches released
(stars released
from the trees
of our being-ness.

Let us do
without words, without noise
only touches
only glances
only sighs
soft and gentle
yet insistent
as the world falls away.

Chaos behind us,
you belong to me
just as I belong to you
twin islets of sanity
in a world made of madness,
chaos before us.

Before you,
there was no form
only void
and me, waiting.

Before you,
there was a cavalcade of souls
each more inadequate
than the last.

Time himself
stands stock still
immovable, immaterial
as our host moves,

The gods themselves
write paeans to our desire
there you are
and here I am
locked in the memory of your eyes.

Posted by John Onorato in Poetry, 0 comments