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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman  12/19/2014 5:40:46 AM
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Day Is Another Kind of Night

Day is another kind of night
And hidden things are more revealed;
The secrets that were held so tight,
By a victor sun, unsealed.

Day is another kind of night,
Where we find not all are dreams,
But as we're grappling with the sight,
Everything's not as it seems.

Day is another kind of night-
Though night is where the dreamer flees,
To a heaven, answers-given
For the one with eyes to see.
Patti Masterman



Don't Be Jealous

Don't be jealous what others have written
In their own frame and time of season
They are there in the place they've awoken
To write down words gleaned from their reason
Lived out each day, their truth gets spoken.

You are not them; you are not there
We're all just panes in a stained glass way:
The things they've seen you might not bear
Could they endure the bed you lay?
No one but you sings your soul's song,

Walks the same path your foot falls on-
Don't silence the poet inside of you
Trying to fill some other's space
Cause then nobody will hear your songs
And the world would miss your grace.
Patti Masterman



Don't Let the Lily Bloom in Vain

He told me then how he'd return
When the flowers opened in spring
Even though the sun might burn-
The bluebells forget how to ring.

He promised that his promise
Was as good as gotten gold
His words; his self; I did surmise
Gave me something I could hold.

When winter doldrums finally lift
And spring arrives in pouring rain:
And nature's fragrant with beauty's gifts-
Oh, don't let the Lily bloom in vain.
Patti Masterman



Falling Off a Cliff in Slow Motion

There was a little girl once lived in a little house
And she feared boogie men lived inside her closet
And underneath her bed and in her big tall chest
Of drawers with the two little cabinet doors on top
And that they came out in the hours after bedtime
And no adults understood it or believed what she said
She used to lie in her bed in the big dark holding her breath
Afraid they'd hear her breathing, and she covered her head up
With the blanket all except her nose and she was still as a mouse
For hours and hours..watching the moon sail along the windows edge
And after a while she was all grown up and then she knew about it finally
She knew the things that frightened her live inside of men only and also they
Lived inside of her and that there was nobody could keep them from coming out
At the right time, they would just come out and nothing could stop it from happening
There were no real boogie men or monsters and she began to wish that she was small
Again, afraid of nonsensical things hiding in her darkened room
Because they were so much less frightening
Than the reality that was the world.
Patti Masterman
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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman