Patti Masterman Poems

Once I met a Bodhisattva,
Met him many times and ways;
And every single time we met
He wore a different face.
...

Every sad day finds the commonplace bitter
Gnawing the still dark ravages of time,
Every place the spent blue sky above's harrowing;
Another line that fateful time unwind.
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Write me out of life
Write me out of this part
The good ones are gone away now
The future looks so bleak sometimes
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Famished beaks for clearer water cry,
Opening in mute agonies to sky;
The silent plea's yet harder to ignore:
Knowing how much weakness, we abhor.
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Judge not the one-winged bird upon his branch;
Neither judge the muttering homeless bum-
Their fate you know, is left to hands of chance,
Though surely certain as the rising sun.
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Don't look down on man's religions;
Don't reject his inner core,
For the bulk of his beliefs
Are the opening of a door:
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Just shy of heaven,
I'll meet your embrace;
Who parted the waters
Within sight of your face.
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In the human commerce of forbidden addiction,
Love has fangs and horns to tear:
If you love in error, fear will bite you
Chase you for miles, to it's heartsick pounding
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To one who truly loves,
they see the beloved everywhere:
In the ecstatic flash of lightnings,
in all weathers, fair or foul, and the turgid wind
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May the great unknown emptiness
Dwelling in between the pressed glass plates of cathedrals
Deal with us as it sees fit,
...