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by Patricia Gorman

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Poetry is in the atmosphere like electricity. At times, it acts as a lightning bolt. It illumines momentarily and then disappears. Its wisdom, beauty, and warmth long for form.

It weaves a blanket of words in and out among threads of ideas forming a pattern, providing comfort and warmth to wrap around the heart.

Join this poetic journey as we move back


Poetry is in the atmosphere like electricity. At times, it acts as a lightning bolt. It illumines momentarily and then disappears. Its wisdom, beauty, and warmth long for form.

It weaves a blanket of words in and out among threads of ideas forming a pattern, providing comfort and warmth to wrap around the heart.

Join this poetic journey as we move back and forth through the realms of existence. View the world from a different mountaintop.

Product Details

Balboa Press
Publication date:
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.16(d)

Read an Excerpt


By Patricia Gorman

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2013 Patricia Gorman
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-7880-4



There is a realm....
so silent you can witness
God imagining
a smooth, gentle hum
of ideas.

There is a realm....
where ideas incubate
in a sacred womb
until thoughts form a mist.

There is a realm....
where ideas
as sparkling droplets
trickle to quench
thirsty minds.

There is a realm....
where thoughts cascading as
waterless falls
pour into
open minds.

There is a realm....
where gossamer words are
too thin to print
too fragile to speak.

There is a realm....
where images consummate
with language and language
with perception and perception
with sentiment.

There is a realm....
where words,
visions and feelings
radiate and solidify.

We inhabit these realms....
and each one of us
carries the gene of silence.


My light shines brilliant
this day
rivaling the sun
Melting all darkness
whose purpose is done.

seeping through my pores
like burning celluloid.
watching forms dissolve
in soft radiant brilliance.

de-intensifies into enlightenment
our brains can accept
without damage.

staring into the sun
blinds the eyes
Too long in the realm of brilliance
blinds us to purpose.

Speak it , feel it.
envision it as
ripples of white
silver satin
waving in the atmosphere.

like diamond
facets reflecting
infinite realms
we inhabit simultaneously.

My light shines brilliant
this day
rivaling the sun
Melting all darkness
whose purpose is done.

Soul Mates

In times of contemplation
if everything seems dark
Remember our creation
when God breathed in the spark.

When Life was given to us
we both became aware
of the stirring of the ethers
and each other being there.

Recall the silent beauty
when everything was still
Feel the Love remaining
and cherish it until

The time we come together
and you'll become aware
of the stirring of your Spirit
and of me being there.

The Unexpected

Now and again
we stumble across something
a face in a flower
a shape in the clouds
snow in the desert
the moon rolling down the mountain.

It is finding God
hiding unannounced
when life surprises us
with a healing
a blessing
an appearance out of nowhere.
I enjoy not expecting
the unexpected.
I watch for it.

Love Was Born on Christmas

I was born to the world on Christmas
but I've existed since the beginning.
I am the gift of God.
I am gift-wrapped
with the soft tender body of a baby.
My ribbons are streams of Divine Light.
I am placed under the tree of Truth
and opened through the seeking of it.
I am received by giving.
I am the Spirit of Christmas.
I am not the carol
but the urge to sing it.
I am not the gift
but the act of giving it.
I am not Bethlehem
but the creation of it.
I am not the world
but the Presence within it.
I am your natural sate of Being.
I am here.
I am now.
I am Love.

Author's note.... In the line I am your natural sate of being, the word "sate" is not a typo.

According to the dictionary, it means to satisfy or fulfill. So Love satisfies and fulfills your Being.



In this world we are limited
to small blocks of time
to learn of each other......
Yet, there is a world of intimacy.....
a world where Spirits blend
and form invisible bonds.
Our eyes meet
our startled souls
rejoice in recognition
Our love
draws its first breath.
Have I awakened a part of you?
Am I part of you?
a part you were ready to meet?

I gaze into your Spirit
and see my reflection there.
How beautiful you are
how beautiful
you make me feel.
My Love ... How enchanted I am
in your presence
How blessed you are
in my heart.


You broke through
emotional barriers
You scaled walls
set up for my protection
You planted the seed
of our love
in the garden
of my heart.

It took root in the fertile soil
of your caring nature
It grew with intensity
in the sacred elements of beauty and trust
nourished by the sunlight
of your smile
watered by soft showers of
tears and laughter.
Now it stands....
a flower..strong and gentle
a living Love
for all to see.


Love is born
at the moment of Creation
and seeks itself
throughout Infinity.
Our time was eons ago ...
Our time is eternity
in the best of all worlds.
We are woven together
with threads of consciousness
never to unravel.

Love ...
how beautiful the word
My Love ...
how enchanted I am
in your presence ...
How blessed you are
in my heart.

The Bird

A bird flew into a valley surrounded by mountains.
He flew to the North but there blocking his way was a
majestic mountain.
He veered to the East but there blocking his way was a
a majestic mountain.
He veered to the South but there blocking his way was another
majestic mountain.
He veered to the West but there again was a
majestic mountain.
He flew again to the North and at the base
of the mountain
sat a Holy One in a state of perfect serenity.
The Wise One watched
calmly as the bird flew round and round trying to
escape his mountain prison.
The bird finally perched
on the Holy Ones' finger and said,
"Master, kindly show
me the way out – I have been flying around for such a long
The Holy One looked kindly upon the bird and whispered,
"Fly higher."

    The Coming of the Monsoon

    The desert air is dry ...
    as dry as the tongue of the arroyo
    begging for just one lap of river
    screaming for a rush of water
    "Just this once..
    I'll never ask again".

    Twirling sand devil scurries
    across the desert floor.
    "I have no water..
    but, I'll give you what life I have"
    it says.

    The saguaro stretches its arms
    reaching toward the sky
    "I'm almost empty ...
    is there nothing for me?"

    The sky in the distance is slate blue
    lightning dances over the mountains
    like live electrical wires.
    Rejoice, you dying desert...
    prepare to meet your heaven

    Once Upon a Desert Night

    John and I sat out
    sky watching
    shaping the clouds
    with the fingers of our minds
    counting the silver javelins
    streaking through the sky
    piercing the darkness
    like sparkle-tipped arrows.
    Stars twinkling to the rhythm of the crickets
    shaking their jingle bells
    never ending bells
    no intermission.
    The Big Dipper pours white lava
    down the mountain side
    while the moon plays close to home.
    Coyotes howl a warning to
    the creatures of the dark
    "It's time to take refuge
    the night is mine."
    John and I take heed
    and head for home
    stealing one last look
    one last listen
    before dawn
    paints over the picture.

    Fog in the Desert

    Now and again
    I wake up
    to a foggy mountain
    When the fog is
    close to the ground
    It slides along
    stealthy as snake
    obscuring vision.
    Just as in life
    we see fog
    but not beyond.
    When fog is
    born high
    It appears as mist
    crawling over
    The mountain
    spilling silently
    down the other side.
    Just as in life
    we see fog
    also mountains
    through a blur of mist
    but not beyond.

    Mother Autumn

    Mother Autumn gently stroking
    summers fevered brow
    Rocking her to sleep
    with a cool evening sigh
    Placing on a blanket of
    red and green and gold
    Orange harvest moon
    keeping vigil in the sky.

    Gathering her offspring
    colors to her breast
    Tearfully preparing
    summers tomb
    Contented suckling colors
    she lays them to their rest
    Awaiting birth of winter
    from her swelling womb.

    Drawing in the slowly dying
    summers final breath
    She promises to cherish
    summers' dreams
    Breathing life into the infant
    winters' blessed scene
    She's the sacred meeting place
    of two extremes.

    Indian Flute

    Sweet echo
    life beckoning life
    arising, gliding
    on the back of
    a woodwind bird
    warbling melodies
    awaken the sun
    generate the
    shimmering stream.

    Haunting echo
    spirit summoning spirit
    night breeze carries
    sacred breath whispering
    through the song of
    a woodwind bird
    fluttering wings
    generate the
    twinkling stars.

    Creation becomes a silhouette on the moon.

    Since I Left

    Tucked under the open sky
    night moves all around me –
    covers me like a velvet hood.
    No one hears my muffled cries.
    Something scurries – howls.
    Leaves tremble – startled by a sudden breeze.
    Air circles and spirals –
    Hugging my form.
    Everything moves but the blood in my veins.
    I remain still –
    scar tissue forms.

    Sister Jude


    My sister Judi is dying
    She is leaving us in this world
    of unending forms
    where we believe only what we see.
    Soon she'll be as a tree in winter
    that's shed its leaves.
    It appears to have no life.
    But appearances deceive.

    Silent Life prepares for Spring
    formulating invisible leaves ...
    blossoms ...
    We don't see.
    Does it know?
    I think it knows.

    It will be like that
    when God awakens Sister Jude.
    We'll remain in dreams
    and won't see while her life
    continues unmeasured by Winters and Springs.

    She is so much a part of our Soul
    she will live as silently in us
    as the life lives in the tree
    despite its barrenness.
    Even now, there is a Presence,
    guiding her through.
    Does she know?


    Will we feel her?
    Will we see her in our children?
    and in theirs?
    In familiar
    She will be there smiling, shining
    with the shrug of a shoulder
    a wink of an eye
    a certain inflection
    in a special word
    Letting us know.
    Will we know?
    I think we'll know.
    When God awakens
    Sister Jude.


You were my sister
we shared our lives.
I the older "nice" one
you the younger daredevil
separate lives bound by love.
I there for you
you there for me.

You were at your best
when your time came.
You looked up to me as a child.
I looked up to you when you faded
so eloquently brave.

Never saw you so strong.
Never felt so weak ... helpless.
I said you were my sister.
You still are.

You just moved inside.

    Some Say She's an Angel

    Some say she's an angel
    Holy, Sacred, dressed in white.
    but to me she's just
    my sister
    Just as she's always

    Funny, smiling, listening to
    Taking in cats
    playing with children,
    Laughing, laughing,
    Mostly at us.

    I see her
    when I want ...
    closing my eyes
    she's here
    trying to tell us
    It's all good
    with her.

    I still feel her
    looking over my shoulder
    making me laugh
    Singing along with
    the Beatles.

    They can believe she's an angel
    whatever helps them
    As for me....
    She's still
    just my sister
    she's here
    I love her.


    I look toward Ireland
    and see my fathers' eyes
    smiling sad, filled
    with visions and revisions.

    Uillean pipes
    echo my fathers' cries
    unrehearsed miracles spilling
    out more life than expected.

    Shades of green
    reflect my fathers' moods
    intense and bright shadows
    rooted in the grave.

    In the simple shamrock
    my father lives frightened
    and free – the meadow
    has no walls.

    No longer an island
    my father transforms
    assimilates an ocean of spirit
    no longer alone.

    Just So You Know ...
    (reflections on my mothers' death)

    I slept on the night
    you died—
    for a while
    Next days' flight was
    I looked down on the world
    you just left
    It looked up at me and smiled—
    I cried.

    I wish I were a child
    believing people lived in the sky
    sitting on clouds
    chatting with God.
    I find myself looking out
    at each cloud –hoping to see you.

    I stayed at your house
    slept in your bed
    thought maybe
    I would see a shadow..
    feel a presence..
    You were gone.

    I waded through your possessions
    wondering if I would find a part of you
    I didn't know...
    Or a part of me
    long forgotten.

    I wore your clothes
    to your funeral..
    Do I hear you laugh?

    The weather was
    never better
    The luncheon was fine.
    They misspelled your name
    I was annoyed
    They should take better care.

    We didn't go to your grave
    frozen ground
    We left you in your coffin
    in the chapel.
    It was white—
    your coffin
    nice looking—
    very chic.
    You'd approve.
    It broke my heart
    just broke my heart
    to leave you there.

    Back at your house
    children running, playing
    neighbors with food
    kind words
    Memories exploding
    from every corner
    from every mind
    from every heart.
    How could you die
    right in the middle of all this life?

    I found a little tablet
    blank pages
    except for one.
    "It's hard to hear
    when hate keeps shouting
    in your ear."
    Your handwriting.
    I didn't say anything to anyone
    I just took it—
    it's all I wanted....
    It came from your heart.


Excerpted from REALMS by Patricia Gorman. Copyright © 2013 Patricia Gorman. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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