Patti Masterman Poems

Is there a world in shadow
At the gate, where life has fled;
A place from where the birds have gone,
And nothing lives but dread?
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Earth is the repository
Of everything that’s gone;
A moment spent above it,
But eternal night is long.
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Some things burn, before they leave;
Some things cut, like the dullest knife
And mutilate dear-held beliefs,
Before they leave instead, a lie.
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Beautiful eyes, of beautiful tears,
Why do you look so sad?
Beautiful eyes, could you see in the mirror
What I see, then you’d be glad.
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The mortuary director’s children
Loved to play by hiding in the caskets.
One day the four year old became ill;
The parents sat by the bed all night,
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Posting here is not a beach,
We would beg or barter;
And God is very hard to reach,
But Poemhunter's harder.
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Under the arc of days, he set her free in time,
He gave her up to the whimsy of wind,
The ghostly waves of the Sun's heated ethers.
The hours of their togetherness came unraveled,
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The soul within the man
Is rumored; never seen.
The fading light of sun
Is what the moon must bring.
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Morning always comes too soon,
Whether you are loathe or loving;
Moon withdraws her silver spoon
And we’re back, to push-and-shoving.
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