Unspoken Word
February 14, 2023
Happy Valentine's Day to You!

Here is an inspiring Valentine's Day slide show for you. Includes 21 wonderful quotes on love and vocals by Daya Rawat.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 12:24 AM | Comments (0)

November 07, 2018
Longing Wells Up from Within

Beneath Hot Sun.jpg

You are the Water.jpg

Holiest of Prayers.jpg

Inbreath Out.jpg

The Fling.jpg

Heart of the Matter
Words of Peace Global

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:29 PM | Comments (0)

August 21, 2018
Off the Coast of Love

Spinning Off Coast.jpg

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:48 PM | Comments (0)

July 28, 2018
Prisoner of Love

prisoner of love.jpg

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:38 PM | Comments (1)

April 12, 2018
The Underground of Love


Underground Clubjpg.jpg

8. .jpg

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:01 PM | Comments (0)

March 20, 2018
The Paradox of Love

Love yourself first.jpg

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 12:24 AM | Comments (0)

January 18, 2018
When You Walk Into the Room

When You Walk into Room.jpg


Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:46 PM | Comments (0)

December 29, 2017
I Used to Write Love Poems

Used to Write Love Poems.jpg

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:53 PM | Comments (0)

November 16, 2017
Beneath the Tree


Lots of people think that if you have a Master all your love goes there -- leaving not much left for the other people in your life. This is not true. The love a Master awakens in a human being is overflowing. There's plenty for everyone.

The old routine of focusing only on the "Divine Beloved" and treating the other people around you as if they were second class citizens is a sure sign you haven't understood a single thing.

Anyway, in celebration of 26 years of marriage to the exquisite Evelyne Pouget, here is a poem I wrote to her some years ago. The feeling only deepens as time goes by and I continue to realize how precious this life is -- and how fleeting. PS: It is best read aloud...


This is a piece of paper.
It used to be a tree.
Birds lived in its branches and sang.
In the winter it stood naked
just like you and me.

If I had known you then before we both had lives
we called our own,
I would have kissed you more than once
beneath its cool September shade,
I would have read you poetry, the songs of saints
who longed for God and nights
when darkness was the sword they carried by their side.

Small deer would come and stare at you,
wondering in their strange and silent way
how you became so much like them,
living in the city as you did.


You would turn to me and smile,
half here and somewhere else,
heart about to open like the mouth of one whose mother's breast was near.

I'd suckle you, but don't know how,
feed you berries cooled in snow,
wipe the sadness from your brow,
and just when you were thinking it was time to go,
take your hand and hold it --
proof again that even if we had to die
the time we loved was all we ever had to know.

Your heart
(the place no man had ever been,
the prayer you are, your Master's twin)
would fly and I would meet you there
beneath the tree,
drunk with love and majesty,
knowing you were sent to me
by the only one who loved us both.

Unsure of who I was or what you were about to feel,
you'd pull your knees against your chest,
lean further back against the trunk,
moving as you always were towards roots
and the endless possibility that called to you
beyond the man now child at your breast.

I'd want to tell you everything, the ache, the need,
the quaking God within my bones
that like a sudden thunderstorm from Mars
releases me at once from all my loneliness and pain.

What shall I do with my hands here?
Touch you?
Pluck something from the sky
that you might recognize the feeling
most men hide from you in fear they'd never love again?
Could you take it -- my looking at you -- the adoration
that moved me to hold you in the first place?

Would you look the other way or wish I'd leave
so neither you or I were left to interrupt eternity,
the refuge of a perfect life beneath a perfect tree?

I'd do my best to take my cue and look beyond your eyes,
but seeing nowhere in this world to rest my gaze,
I'd circle round and round until I met you once again
beneath the shade of my eternal longing.

The rest?
A masquerade,
pure escape,
a pilgrimage away from you,
the one in human form who called me here
and wasn't sure and isn't clear and doesn't know
and cannot say what both our hearts have understood.

Was there a nest above our heads, a cloud, the moon?
Was the light reflected in that lover's sphere
once stolen from the sun?

I take your hand,
I kiss your lips,
I hold you and am gone.
And then?
A small deer speaks, the Master grins,
the dance of love begins again.

Excerpted from Thirst Quench Thirst

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:58 PM | Comments (1)

August 13, 2017
I Pray at the Altar of Your Lips

Altar of Your Lips.jpg



Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:31 PM | Comments (0)

July 03, 2017
This Is How I Want to Love You



Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 06:57 PM | Comments (0)

June 11, 2017
The Pressure Is Off

We do not make love.jpg

Full Moon at Sunrise

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 12:56 AM | Comments (0)

June 06, 2017
The Reading



Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:21 PM | Comments (0)

October 09, 2016
A Passionate Paradox


Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 12:30 PM | Comments (0)

August 22, 2016
When the Rain Begins

Exquisite new song and slide show by Stuart Hoffman and Jennifer Edwards. Vocals by Stephen Rivera.

Stuart's YouTube channel

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 06:26 AM | Comments (0)

“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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© Mitch Ditkoff