Patti Masterman Poems

I could feed on mankind's imagination alone for eons;
As long as the music still remained, the poetry,
The art; the cathedrals, the beauty, the mystery;
I would cradle that flame forever, just waiting
...

I like to smell books in libraries
Inhaling as much as can hold,
Imagining I can smell fairies;
Or something else, very like mold.
...

Take one mind, and fill it up;
Mix it well, and stir the pot
Just be careless, of what you use:
Who said we're supposed to choose?
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The animal body craves grass and tuberous roots
Wakes and sleeps, under cycles of the moon
Births live offspring; they and all their ilk:
We're all mammal, by proof which we give milk.
...

She has old eyes,
Old soul; a crone:
Flies high as a kite, lighter than stone
Who's seen everything and lived alone
...

To he whose fingers itch to feel her breath,
Dragging her boldly, through tall fields of grass;
She whose flowering bough is stillborn death,
The graveyard plot's the last place she will pass.
...

Your deep eyes, clouded with the sea
Will always be a mystery;
Though never have been close enough,
To tell, if waves be calm or rough;
...

Your eyes are two lean wolves
Who want to slowly tear me apart, limb by limb
Your eyes are the voice of the lost infant
Crying for a savior in the wilderness
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Tiny rips in the fabric
Of society
Allow others to access
Our dreams.
...

Burn holy fire, the age of words to incinerate;
Your beads sear the flesh, with the tiniest seed-pearl scars.
My heart's burning up, but there's seasons of pain abated
Though faces of saints, are melted and slightly marred.
...