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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman  11/28/2014 7:05:47 AM
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I Am the Little Raindrop

I am the little raindrop
That now has seen the sea
Though once it thought itself
The world of water, be

The surface tension grew
Until it burst it's skin
And, falling on the wave
It heard a growing din

It thought the sea a whole
A solid thing, that roll
To crush the little drop
Beneath it's giant bowl

But just before it fell
The little dropp woke up
And saw the shining faces
In the splashes, spraying up

The other drops did play
In the water's mighty hand
And from sea to farthest sea
Did the water's smile expand

Until horizon's bloomed
Upon some sunny shore
Where the little raindropp rose
Into the sky once more.
Patti Masterman



If I Were a Moon

If I were a moon, I'd chase your sun,
Or if a butterfly, you'd be the one
Flower, that I could not resist;
Or if a valley, your green I would kiss,
And if a cloud, when the day is done,
The spark of lightning, the storm's begun.

If you were death, I'd be the tomb,
If you were birth, I'd be the womb,
And if you were higher to reach than the sky,
I'd hitchhike the meteors, whistling by-
For love is the field that holds the whole world,
As patiently, patiently time is unfurled.
Patti Masterman



The Church Is Built On Bloody Bones

The church is built on bloody bones,
Broken martyrs, burning homes;
The church is built on bloody bones-
Not singing angels, golden thrones.

The church is built on murder, rage,
Plunder, anger and pillage;
The church is built on murder, rage-
There's no escaping murders wage.

The church you choose informs your soul,
If you're shattered, if you're whole;
The church you choose informs your soul-
So be sure it's worthy goal.
Patti Masterman



The Most Precious Things

Do animals dream of castles,
White wedding cakes, and wine;
Of making out midst beauty-
To never look behind?

Our minds build worlds of ozone
Upon the mists of time;
Construction quite unearthly,
All built inside the mind.

The world that we inhabit
Is largely made of space
And then we try to fill it
With imaginations place.

The real world's too unseemly,
And stifles us with laws,
And doesn't fit the playbill,
And never stops to pause.

If we could stop the world,
And form it to our means,
We'd pull out all the pilings
And rip out all the seams.

If we could change the format,
With the whimsy born of thought,
The walls would be of flowers;
The doors, by ivy wrought.

And love would be the conqueror,
And beauty would be king-
And dreams and secret fantasies,
The world's most precious things.
Patti Masterman
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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman