Patti Masterman Poems

The first man who ever saw her
knew he had found something of import,
and soon after the other people began lining up to have a look
at the little face, half buried in mud and muck.
...

Death is a humorless fellow,
As he waits for the young and the old;
Though we shut him seamless, outside our lives,
Leave him standing, alone in the cold.
...

We're all busy going somewhere
We've all been busy going-
Even if you don't know where or why,
You're still going
...

Sing little Sparrow;
Sing till Winter's dead-
Life is short or long, little Sparrow,
But happier without dread.
...

Sleeping shapes know that long trembled looking
Gladdens the soul on its regular haunts,
Like the buried kite rises from its dew of puddles
And circle-walking cloud-catchers wave back taunts.
...

We were at the beauty shop,
and the normal banter started up,
amid the click of the scissors.
...

Like a sailor looks
To the stars, to get his bearings
...

The light ripples by like a snake:
There's a seance going on, somewhere inside you
In a place too far, for their steeples to reach
...

The world is too achingly beautiful, and must be sipped-
Slowly, sparingly- so that you don't choke on all its richness,
And when you find that you are dying, even slower still..
...

This is the only life there is
This is not an audition for a life
This is the end-all, be-all, free-for-all of a life
For any once creature ever living or dead-
...