White Space

I was dreaming of a white space
Had interposed itself between us two-

A blank wall; neither dark nor light
No recrimination there but silence
The silence that falls only at night.

Silence gone to snowy hazards
Like the shadows made from deeper blue-

And invisible but slippery edges,
As blindly groping in the darkness
To reach the haven- but you're not there yet.

Though I would wall myself with silence
And spend my life as one, not two-

Before I'd hurt another being,
Sometimes intentions brick the dam up
Before the devastation's seen.

poem by Patti Masterman
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You Always Got on My Nerves

You always got on my nerves,
But then I saw your photo:
You are old; far older than I imagined
With the kindly look that the aged often acquire
If they are very lucky-
And I could feel my heart
Stretching out it's blue tinged fingertips
To trace your ravaged face.

By the time we have grown any real wisdom,
Our looks have all flown away
Like fickle birds, looking for greener fields elsewhere;
The skeleton is already beginning to peek out,
A promise of worse things yet to come.
But kindness in the eyes
Will outlive the longest holocaust.

poem by Patti Masterman
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The world is more than the sum of it's parts

The world is more than the sum of it's parts;
Things so unequal, it must be an art,
For nothing's predictable as it might seem,
From the hour of our birth to the death of our dream.

In real life Cinderella can win the prince,
No matter how unlikely the size of her prints:
If the quantum shoe fits the strange facts of the case,
We can acquit and find there no disgrace.

The sole home of Ripley and Guinness and Freud;
Guilt not allayed and surprise unalloyed-
No use to bother with syntax or diction;
In this world, truth is much larger than fiction.

poem by Patti Masterman
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There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love

There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love.
There's sweat on my brow- but not from danger;
There's fire in my veins,
And I'm feeling quite insane-
Think I'm turning into a stranger.

There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love.
There's a flush on my face, but not from ire;
There's a fire all the same,
Like the cooling has waned-
Think I'll be my own funeral pyre?

There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love.
There's some sweat running down for no reason;
I'm sure it would be treason,
If I said this thing was easin'-
Think womanhood is just out of season?

poem by Patti Masterman
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There's magic in the air - Pantoum

There's magic in the air
When Cinderella dreams;
Glass slippers may appear,
As odd as it may seem.

When Cinderella dreams
Of jaunty men on horses;
As odd as it may seem
For magic reigns, of courses

Of jaunty men on horses,
She dreams, in her little bed,
For magic reigns, of courses;
And it dances through her head.

She dreams, in her little bed
He has come to take her hand,
And it dances through her head;
She'll be Queen of the little land.

[...] Read more

poem by Patti Masterman
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Lock the Door

Lock the door; the day's arrived-
What demons lurk here, just outside,
And little pumpkins, with their sacks;
You never know what might attack.

There's a ghost and witch; they're friends,
Here come some pea pods, full of grins,
And there's scarecrow, and mummy too-
Someone's bound, to yell out 'boo'.

I hope I don't see any kooks;
It's bad enough, just finding spooks.
A bowl of candy's by the door;
My witch hat there, upon the floor.

Must be ready, when it rings;
When they make my doorbell sing,
And give them candy, instead of sticks-
So they won't do any tricks.

poem by Patti Masterman
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Occluded

Occluded by dust,
And well traveled orbits
Beyond the known space-
What rankles after midnight
Each being labors alone;
Coming and going a lonely way
The ending of life like a faint surprise
And even less interruption,
To others-

Back to the bingo, the pool halls,
Lottery tickets, and soccer games,
Finish the beer, the haircut, the lovemaking,
Death's another ritual, we must partake.
Mechanically we remove the blood,
Paint the face, bedeck with flowers.
Lower the body, down into wood:
(The small interruption does us good) -
But hallelujah- it's not our time, yet.

poem by Patti Masterman
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It's Nobody's Fault

I like how music and culture overlap
I love how movies and reality mesh
Thirty frames a second, and holographs are king
In the cubist world of the eleven dimensions
It's nobody's fault.

I like how senses and minds reflect
The outer environments subtle cues
Ink blots and symbol cards give themselves away
There are no secrets in the subconscious collective
It's nobody's fault.

I enjoy that the inner man is pure freedom
Formed into a sacred fountain of living flame
Self renewing and bright as a welders torch
When treasure's hid, no fools may conquer it
It's nobody's fault.

poem by Patti Masterman
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People Always Talking

People always talking, voices never quiet,
Talking over beauty, messing with delight,
Gossiping their lives away, caught up in the lies-
People talking years and years, until they finally die.

People always fighting, people never still,
People never happy; going at it with a will.
Never satisfaction, or noting what they feel,
Taking what is not theirs, compunctionless to steal.

People in the graveyards, finally at rest,
Never realizing, that it was for the best;
People with no destiny, done with all their tests-
People with their last breath, that never could confess.

poem by Patti Masterman
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An Oddity

I think that I shall never see
A thing as odd as eight baby
Eight baby from a single mother
Makes me roll my eyes- oh brother
Oh sister oh brother oh sister oh yeah
Mother looked like a Guernsey cow
Is there milk enough- I don't see how?

Eight colic'd infants wailing in the night-
Draw back, draw back- go fly a kite
Eight fitful babies screaming in duress-
Moved far away left no forwarding address
Eight poopy babies dragging two pound diapers
Went to the car wash and used the windshield wipers
Eight teething babies wrangling on the bed-
Picked up a gun and blew off her head.

poem by Patti Masterman
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