Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer
 

Sitting with the Gardeners

Colin Amato Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Sitting with the Gardeners which was written by poet Colin Amato. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

Read Poems by Colin Amato

Best Colin Amato Poems

+ Fav Poet

Sitting with the Gardeners

A blank canvas 
an empty stage 
darkness in the primordial 
vacuum of stars and space 
a jug not yet filled 
a reed flute hallow
yearning for the paint 
yearning for the actors
yearning for the light
yearning for the water
yearning for the lips, breath 

We assembled that night 
one by one sat in a circle 
forming a ring of unity 
white, brown 
light, dark skin
diverse background 
diverse personalities 
in the end-human 
in the end-friends 
                brothers 

The smoke swirls, leaps 
from out mouths, colliding 
and spinning, a spider 
web of escaping essence 
listening to the music of the 
past, our ears leaping and 
taking in the goodness.

Out comes the poetry 
words of the past 
Whitman, Lawerence, Gibran 
Rumi-our hearts leap 
with the joy of such 
wisdom.
"Oh Captain, my Captain"
"God is born"
"On Pain" 
"Gardens of Soul"
Flowers in the garden 
we all are in a row 
taking in the sunshine 
rain and natural nutrition 
from the earth 
from the cosmos 
from the Soul 
from each other 

Sultans upon ottomans 
we recline, seeing what
no other pack can see
expressions rising and 
falling, the wave of 
imagination we glide
like the birds on a 
journey along
the Way, guiding and 
learning from each other 

We kick up the dust 
and go beyond the clouds 
beyond reason and 
heights, the sky breaking 
down, its doors letting 
down its guard, for us.

We are spinning with 
all the protons and
electrons, whirling and
spinning with all
of the cosmos as 
our playground. Finally 
we all return to our
couches and chairs, the 
time and hookah our
reminder of reality 
packing up, we the 
Caravan 

The Sage of Wisdom 
The Latin King of Knowledge 
The Doctor of the Soul 
The Romantic Seeker 
The One who always had a Poet in him

We all experienced our own 
Sema, our own level
of pure ecstasy, learning 
and loving each other 
Inspiration of infinity 

We will all meet again 

The canvas is painted
the stage has been set
the jug is brimming 
and the reed flute is
crying. 
But not for sadness 
or pure separation 
NO
it is singing for the 
bond of friendship

Post Comments

Please Login to post a comment
 
  1. Date: 1/30/2010 6:13:00 AM

    Very nice