Patti Masterman Poems

How time spirals outward like the sea,
And breaks, divides upon the lea
As smaller eddies ripple docks;
The stuff of time, tides and clocks.
...

My poor soul; afraid to look-
Thinks he's read me, closed the book,
Moved on now, to brighter things-
But no one's told my heart- it sings.
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It is said that man
Gives half his heart away;
While woman merely saves one part-
For a rainy day.
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She is not embedded in this room, but she still lives here
Her reflections gathering back upon the wood like happy birds,
Flocking to a bird meeting in some tree; and though no tales are told
Histories are entrenched in scars and tack holes,
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The world is dimensional and nothing sees through it;
The walls too opaque, and then time runs away,
Off over the edges and pools there at midnight,
The hour always late or else way much too late.
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She waited in the hallway,
She waited in the den;
Waiting and time crossed its arms
Just like she would wait for a friend.
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Love poems for sale; they're slightly used,
And birthday poems for free-
Though slightly hexed by some old witch
(I think that would be me)
...

In the center of my eye's a small guillotine-
See- if you squint, you can sometimes see the frame.
In my brain’s the morgue, where the warm ones brought,
Sans heads, after the foul deed's done.
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She loved little children
But could never have any of her own-
I picture her now in gardens of cherubs
Tenderly twining her with silken ribbons;
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When I consume worlds,
I’m waylaid by the gravity;
The galaxies unfurled,
Creation fills its cavity,
...