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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman  7/22/2014 6:54:14 PM
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Through the evolving debris of decades,
A thousand paper mosaics fill again with warping light,
Their plasma blurred against the careless rub of time.

The human is transported beyond past disappointment,
Order is again brought forth, from worn boxes and containers
As ever-nimble light quickly travels millions of miles
To astound us, in old mausoleums of photographs.

Stellar neutrons irradiate once nondescript joys,
But soon the shutter spins outward again,
With the rapid speed of displeasure;
The eyes longing, for what they used to own.
Patti Masterman



Reviled Did I Live

Reviled did I live, said I,
As evil I did deliver
Never odd or even-
Live not on evil.

Reviled did I live, said I
As evil I did deliver
Live was I
Ere I saw Evil.

Reviled did I live, said I
As evil I did deliver
Live on no evil-
Evil I did live.

Do Good's deeds live on?
No, Evil's deeds do, O God

Now evil, I've won
Name now one man
Live not on evil deed,
Live not on evil.

Evil, all its sin, is still alive
Evil am I- I'm alive.
Patti Masterman



The Genii in the Bottle

Animals must go berserk when they sniff my room-
So many scents, so many bottles-
It must smell like a thousand armageddons
Flowery spices and attar of rose
Orange blossom and civet musk
Oppopanox and oud wood
All the ambers and vanillas
The older stuff thickened now with age
And darker colored than when it first arrived
All of it my rare treasure
And my older body, childbirth wise, briny,
Turns the scents inside out
Rankles them, puts them off
Even my nose is out of tune nowdays
Nobody knows the secret of why
I'm still clinging to all these old friends
It's so simple it makes me want to laugh:
All my memories are bottled up inside
Those fragrances, sachets and potions
How can I ever throw those away
I can't distill them out of the scents
You can't throw away pieces of yourself
Even parts from the long lost days
And the clutter does add a certain exotic richness;
A heady, wafting incense always straining
To escape from the containers-
My secret wish fulfilling Genii.
Patti Masterman



The Lilac Tree

One day a lavender sheen appeared
Just across the worn out fence,
And thus she met the Lilac bush,
And she was then possessed, of it.

That fall, at it's earthly altar
She did her sacrifice;
The corpse of hare and linnet,
And the unlucky field mice.

Come spring, she reaped the harvest;
The blooms were heavy, strong:
The odor of fresh Lilacs
About the breeze, were blown.

Twelve years, she served the Lilac,
No matter what the weather,
And at it's gnarly feet were laid
Remains of bone and feather.

The twelfth year came, and she was ill,
She dragged herself, beneath it's leaves.
That spring was the most splendid, yet;
In brilliant blooms, the branches grieved.

The Lilac never bloomed again,
It shut it's face, for fear of sun,
And those, who’d thought to steal a bloom
In spring, found always there were none.
Patti Masterman
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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman