You did well 🧡


When they said you weren’t pretty, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said you had a mean heart, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said you brought bad luck, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said you couldn’t do well in a bigger city, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said it’d be hard for you to find a partner, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they showered you with all the negatives, you filtered it all - only listened to your heart.

You never turned sour.
You did well.

When it seemed like all the doors were shut & there was no way out. You stubborn child - you still didn’t believe it.
You did well.

All that noise, all that dirt & like a lotus, you bloomed through it.
My love, you did so effing well!

I am so proud of you ❤

I went out to find
Some value in me,
So I sold what I had
For little a fee.

My eyes for a penny
I sold to some fools,
They're blind and useless,
Mistook for jewels.

My lips for a nickel
To the sweetest sin,
So they'll know the love
That has never been.

My ears for a dime
I sold to a lover.
To hear sweet nothings,
And silence uncover.

My hands for a quarter
I sold to a ghost,
So that she might feel
What I've wanted the most.

Finally my bones for a dollar
I sold to the earth,
But as for my soul-
There was found no worth.

She was an art,
but she wasn't the type
you'd find in museums
or the type that would
make you feel profound things
in your chest.

She was an art
tucked in hidden pockets
of a faded yellow dress.
She was an art,

slowly sketching herself
out of existence.

~
June 2023
HP Poet: Patty Mager
Country: USA


Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Patty. Please tell us about your background?

Patty M: "I was born an only child in a 3 generation household. I loved books, and playing imaginary games, and chasing my mom with really long nightcrawlers, my Grandpa raised in a washtub. I was a banker, and a financial banker for many years. I quit to do hospice for my Dad when he was to go into hospice. My husband had heart problems and my little Mom eventually got Cancer. So I nursed and loved them all. My Dad for a year, the others over an 8-year period. I saw the transition of each and the way each handled their ending, and I was there for them all. I consider that a special blessing."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Patty M: "I always wrote, but I found a poetry site 20 years ago, and began to write seriously. I've been published in many anthologies both in the US and abroad. I was nominated for the coveted Pushcart Prize twice and I once had a three-page spread in our local newspaper. I came to HP in 2014 and I love this special place with amazingly wonderful poets who have become really great friends."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Patty M: "Sometimes poems seem to write themselves, almost like automatic writing."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Patty M: "Poetry is spiritual, and a lifesaving rope that carries me through both good and the horrible times of my life."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Patty M: "My favorite Poets are: Sylvia Plath, Neruda, Billy Collins, Maya Angelou, Poe, Ginsberg, Anne Sexton, and Longfellow."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Patty M: "I love to cook, do crossword puzzles, read, and play card games like canasta, and spider solitaire. Being with family is my heaven."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing me to interview you, dear Patty! I learned a great deal about you!”

Patty M: "Thank again Carlo. Thanks so much for all your help and kindness."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Patty a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)

We will post Spotlight #5 in July!
~

Sometimes i wonder do you
Remember me like i remember you.

"What colour is my heart?" she sings,
And as her voice soaks into me,
I feel you slink and coil yourself around my heart.
At first it felt like you were meant to be there,
But the longer her set goes on
The harder you squeeze.
"What colour is my heart?" she sings.
I know the answer.
My heart is black and blue,
Thanks to you.