Patti Masterman Poems

The words still live, though flesh must die;
Soft rot, like pumpkins left to lie,
While objects coarse succeed our death-
Naught is left of our brief bequests.
...

If a house came with a woman,
We wouldn't want to buy;
We wouldn't want her, idle-
And always sitting by.
...

I made a bluer sky, they came
Just to see it rain again,
Then wove the clouds so fluffy white,
They wore their sunglasses at night.
...

They tell there are no words there,
Nor books anywhere about,
So should I go to heaven;
It seems to be in doubt?
...

What was there
Before you were born;
Was there a point-
Was something torn?
...

Ignore the world
At your peril,
Take Ginseng root
And powdered marrow.
...

A dagger, a chalice,
A heart filled with dread;
Invisible palace-
The peace of the dead.
...

And now I have become thoroughly a Somebody-
Though once, I was Nobody, only a child-
Most powerless, among the world's true movers.
It's true I planned no ambushes of greatness,
...

Do you own your dreams-
And the things you find there;
Do you own the oceans,
Do you own the air?
...

Be brave of heart, my melancholy baby,
Be forceful, swift; so not to tempt our fate,
No coward soul, nor temerity for label,
For this fearful trembling to abate.
...