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May 22 · 46
Curtain Of Desire
patty m May 22
From afar, I see your lips
forming words one syllable
at a time; they glide towards me, cream-
colored rings tethered by an
incandescent thread.
My mind's eye leaps forward,
eager to read each one, savoring
their grace and beauty, tasting the
messenger, the essence of his yang,
Leap now, take heart and bend the
the hour-glass, turn the tide of reason,
let colors of the rainbow spew
forth from your pen.
See the watcher's eyes change
green to blue.
Sliding along the highway of dreams.
you and he are one, sharing for a
moment Tristan's song, an evening
in a castle high upon the plains.
About your bed, desert winds
curl around each burnished post,
licking tongues that tantalize skin.
Eventually the fires of passion that burn
within are put to rest, muted,
triumphant and worn without sin.
Rest now. love is a potion that
undresses the soul as well as the flesh.
Poetic caress, a thousand verses
sweep across skin
persuasive, evasive,
splendor flowers as sparks flutter,  
one last leap into paradise.
May 7 · 502
My Cello And Me
patty m May 7
Surreal state of inner mind

an alto inkling draws its bow midway

taking it slow in measured sway.

Surrounded by a  maze of symbols and notes

a harmony unseen begins to float

circumventing the horizon,

and yet again,

I bend to stroke my treasured friend

as melody unfolds;

A rogue splinter

beneath the skin

what a fool I've been

seduced, reduced to

feeling kind of blue.

there is no goodbye, no hello

to my love for this cello;

we're one you see

this hollow burl of tree

and me.

In the solemnity of silent ranks

overflowing river banks

lie puzzles and riddles yet to be solved,

as the world around me too quickly evolves.

Impulse reverberates deep within

as ancient songs begin to spin,

wind scurries clouds
across the brightness of day
as I saw and I saw
forests turn gray

yet continuously I play. . .
a token on display
my cello and me
           fallen out of reality.
patty m Mar 27
A little boy, like you and me, hid away inside a tree. No one knew where to look so closed was he inside this nook. Soon his friends ran away, sure he'd gone elsewhere to play.  Night fell to dream's spill and magic stole away his will, ancient tales wound their way to wrap him in amidst the fray. Knowledge swam inside his mind things unknown to all mankind. Soon roots took hold, began to climb and the little lad sank in the slime, but warm it was and fragrant too, a womb of sorts where this child grew.
Creatures in the forest know through this sap strong magic flows. He grew bark and limbs so strong, his arms waved, his trunk grew long. On this hilltop ever steeper, you'll find the man called the Keeper. For keeper he is of secrets so old that wise men beg to be so bold, as to ask advice and beg to see, the ancient being in a tree.
His roots spread out across the land, across oceans, field, and barren sand. An oracle is what he's called and people come all enthralled, to visit with this wizened tree, or man, or Ent, perhaps all three.
As for the child, just accept, that he grew wise without regret. So be advised we all grow up; old dogs too were little pups.
A bard with beard perhaps unsung stretches limbs to golden sun.
His patience is stable, on even keel, as he guards the gate to all that's surreal.
If you visit, don't be afraid, his voice is deep and his eyes are grave, yet somewhere inside laughter rises, The Keeper of Secrets is full of surprises.
Mar 24 · 239
patty m Mar 24
A kiss
new like spring
buds on your lips,
soft, tender,
sweet as the petals of flowers.
. . . Mingled breath,
essence of soul
the heart unfolds
free of woe;
to dream, to love,
to dance in celebration.
patty m Mar 23
Upon this silent winter's night
fog clings to the lantern like a wreath.
I feel your love across the room,
as long-grained rice begins to steam.

Fog clings to the lantern like a wreath,
cool and damp the rain has fallen
as long-grained rice begins to steam,
the kitten curls in corner's wrap.

Cool and damp the rain has fallen,
plump pillows tossed on the sofa,
the kitten curls in corner's wrap
as dusk moves over the mountain.

Plump pillows tossed on the sofa,
light the candles let the wine breathe
as dusk moves over the mountain
across the rims of china cups.

Light the candles let the wine breathe,
against table's setting, the silver shines.
Across the rims of china cups
we toast to happiness and love.

Against tables setting, silver shines,
a long-stemmed rose adorns my plate.
We toast to happiness and love,
fingers laced, palms pressed together.

A long-stemmed rose adorns my plate
an image in a moon shaped vase.
Fingers laced, palms pressed together
watch it unfold beneath the sky.

An image in a moon shaped vase,
I feel your love across the room
watch it unfold beneath the sky
upon this silent winter's night.
Mar 19 · 272
patty m Mar 19
How beautiful she lies.
limbs splayed like driftwood,
her mouth
my river,
spanning wide
churning depths
to gentle waves.

. . .Still current,
tears once cast
leap joyously,
lighting sky with sparkling stars.

I stroke her soil
and roam her forest
reflecting upon her grace...
Sweet earth I know you're smiling
I can hear your laughter in the breeze.
Mar 14 · 145
patty m Mar 14
Clouded thought
flakes and flits in the wind.
Who will find what now has blown away?
Perhaps they will remember my words
and know exactly what to say
to keep you here.

Sadly it wasn't me
Mar 5 · 122
Do Me
patty m Mar 5
I'm a poetry **

addicted to the high,

the ******* ride that always finds my sweet spot.  

It doesn't matter if I'm paid or not,

when I steal away from loved ones

to ride the waves of poetic passion and sensation.  

Undressed thought

either beautiful or lewd

slides across the sheets

embedding itself in the core of me.

I squirm in delight or

struggle against restraints,  

the whiplash of panic

bringing tears that need to vent.

until euphoria erases sight and sound.

I'm a lost cause,

spilling my heart, my love, my lust

for everyone to see.

Do you have some time

to take a ride with me?
All Innuendo Pertains to writing Poetry .
Feb 28 · 206
In The Company Of Crows
patty m Feb 28
I went to the cemetery today one I hadn't been to in years, to find relatives forgotten who just came to light in memory and conversation.  I brought flowers, vivid red poinsettias so blatant against the gray cloudy light.  Odd how the sunlight made the dark overcast bearable,an almost inner glow the only lightening of mood in this secluded place.  It's as if the world had forgotten this place, while hundreds of crows were everywhere; hanging in trees sitting on tombstones swooping about,  I thought little of it, my mind intent on the task at hand as I searched the landscape for familiar landmarks.  Turned around trying to retrace my steps, I trampled through mud my boots suddenly heavy restricting my every move.  I finally found a familiar tree, and stood beneath its barren limbs as they scratched in the wind, before walking forward and counting the rows.   Success at last, and shame at neglect.   I bent to clear the grave of weeds and leaves, while overhead they gathered, one or two at first, then twenty and then a hundred more.  My heart beat crazily in my chest, the hair standing up straight on the back of my neck.  Thoughts of reels, horror movies like "The Birds." flickered before my eyes while their caws screeched against my nerves.   Odd birds, bending their heads so their piercing black eyes could get a better look.  The eeriness made me want to run away and hide.  What to do, what to do, if I ran what then, the power of their beaks became impressed in my brain, surely they could rip me apart?  Fear perspired even in the cold, and a bleak feeling of dread filled my heart.  Had I found these loved ones only to become one with them, quite literally?  There was not another live soul around, only me and these ****** red flowers, why had I been so dumb to come alone?  Hadn't I seen the hundreds upon hundreds of these birds when I came in?  Now the numbing cold invaded my bloodstream.  I planned to move slowly, not run, and to act as if nothing was wrong.  I found a metal flower holder, but stuck the flowers in the ground thinking to use it as a weapon.  Good luck with that, for now the landscape was black, all of them watching and waiting.  Waiting for what?   I said a silent prayer fervent in my fear.   As if by magic it began to rain, hard drops icy cold pelting me and the crows, a siege of watery soldiers falling from plum and black low hanging clouds, not just falling but stabbing hard as the wind drove them like jack hammers.  Finally the crows gave up, casting piercing eyes and opening widespread wings as they flew away.  Still a few flew overhead circling, their cries like those of landlocked souls, saddened my heart.  I gathered sodden self and said a fervent thank you, as I rushed away, thinking even as I ran over the tombstone covered terrain, "what would have happened it hadn't stormed?"
Actually I love crows and once danced in the middle of a flock that swirled around me as I danced in the wind, throwing chips into the air and I loved every moment of it.  But this day I felt threatened, was it my imagination or the power of hundreds upon hundreds of these powerful birds.
Feb 26 · 384
patty m Feb 26
It was a decent room
in that the bed was horizontal.
Out the window
power lines stapling the horizon
appear threatening and otherworldly.

Sad stagnate town
salacious gossip and stale beliefs
become implied threat lurking in air.
The world that should be idyllic
is complicated and cloudy,
no signs of cataclysm, no melee,
just the chill of foreboding;
a ghost theme scraping
where nightmare
Feb 15 · 745
Mouthing The Words
patty m Feb 15
Cupped hand on chin watching
people having a good time on Lennox avenue.
Have you ever read a Cummings poem then read it again
and watch the content change from innocent to perverse?

In the clubs conversation swirls much like that,
flat intonation minus punctuation, do they flirt or flip you off?

In my room backlit by a bare bulb
the numbness in my arms and mind escalates;
poetry is sometimes a gift filled with healing power,
at other times its abandonment feels like a curse.  
Vague face in the mist, my sometimes talent
turns on me leaving me forsaken..  
Chasing words is like trying to catch the tail of a comet,
the symbols manifest in strange tattoos
while the alignment looks totally alien.
The hour is late and my eyes burn with exhaustion
yet I won't submit to the shadowy being
who snidely smiles and sprinkles sand.
patty m Jan 21
Invasive maneuvers
reprisals, unrest.
parched repercussions
defiled battled quest
We are the pawns
slaves of the universe
baby makers, builders
actors who rehearse..
We'll sing and dance
get ******* for no money
while they salivate
and dine on sweet honey.
The strong and the young
are among the most prized
easily indoctrinated and hypnotized.

Knuckled under, we hunger
beasts that grovel and *****
the emptiness eating away all our hope.
No heroes unsung,
to feed what we crave
all are beaten down
there's too few who are brave,
While the old folks get stung
with a life taking needle,
the sick cry out loud
until their mewling grows feeble.
Lies swept under a rug
can you feel the tug?
It stands to reason
equality is dead,
now it's power and politics
and the rich interbred.
The menial man is the ox of today
a senseless illusion
as he kneels to pray.
We have no control
though we think that we have
The rulers sit in government
and judge us and laugh.
Behold the matrix
are we here and now
or are we animals pulling the plow?
No houses and cars
no friends at the bar
only scraping for scraps
with rough blackened nails
and small slurps of liquid
from rough metal pails.
Beware the wind whispers
as cities fall down
and march to the beat
of manical clowns
Enjoy what you have
before the world turns gray
It's not real life that you're living
but dreams slipping away.
Jan 21 · 399
Defining Silence
patty m Jan 21
Silence walks on little cat feet,
velvet paws that tickle deep.
Silence is anger not voiced aloud
silence is prayer sent to angels on clouds.  
Silence is golden the adages say,
silence is sleeping an entire day.  
Silence is creepy in a haunted house,
silence is the scurry of a scared little mouse;
no squeak, or creak, no anything,
no cough or snore or sprong or spring,
no words so harsh they make you cry
or loss of hope or sorrowful sigh.  
Just a stretch of quiet like a beach of sand,
a padded cell with a lonely man,
a tree falling in the forest
when nobody sees
and it's me luxuriating
in just being me.
Jan 15 · 145
The American Dream (Rap)
patty m Jan 15
Random rules
rebellion pools
the world's filled with fools
at best,
cockroaches and pests
crawlin' through unrest
making nothing into something
with flippant retorts
anger is the fuel
that tears men apart  

Gun in hand
think ur the man  
through the red hazes
confusion blazes
fast and furious
the curious get
twisted insane
logic don't mesh
when you cut through flesh
it's a bomedy
a bloods kind of comedy
stuck on stupid
feelin' powerless as hell
when some kind of demon
comes ringing the bell.
Step up or step down
stir the potion all around
where's the black magic
it's tragic life is too real
a spiel spouted by the rich
the son of a *******
don't know how the poor feel  

Over slept, unkempt
been living in a tent
stealing heat from an outside vent
begging, negotiating
with those passers by
some give, others spit
don't care if I die.
Gotta get the job done
and seamlessly transcend
I'm drawn to all this power
aint' steppin down again
smash it, take a mansion and trash it
antiques what the hell
old **** starts to smell
I didn't see the gun
till you pulled the trigger,
how do you figure that I can deliver
Nuff said about these brainless schemes
cuz all I wanted was
the American dream
Jan 11 · 189
Trouble With A Capital T
patty m Jan 11
If you ***** your finger

and it begins to bleed

I'll **** it for you baby

and fulfill your every need

                I'll love you real good

. . .            like a bad girl should

oh yes I will,

I'll love you real good

like a bad girl should.

I'll bowl you over baby

and set you back up

and you'll come running baby

just like a hungry pup

I can't give you absolution

or anything divine

just a tumble in the sheets

and a bottle of cheap


but I'll love you real good

like a bad girl should

and you know I will

just feel my heat baby

I'm gonna ward off the chill

while you dog my heels

spinning shiny wheels

I'll set desire burning and  

your heart I'm gonna steal

I'm a living loving *******

but you're awake and this is real.

'cause I'm Trouble . . . trouble  with a capital T

you better treat me right baby



Now this isn't  the Love Boat baby

cruisin' out to sea

I know your every move

as if by design

but sugar you don't know

even half of mine

You better bring me gifts

and plenty of bling

I'll make you feel good baby

I'll gonna make your body sing

Now there's plenty fish

out in the sea

and I'm trouble

trouble with a capital T.

if you don't like trouble

don't be messin' round with me.

but I'll make you feel good

really good ummm oh yeah

I'll make you feel  good, baby

like a bad girl should,

I'm like candy

addictive and sublime

I'll take all you've got to give me

and give you a taste of mine

Come Monday morning

there's a knock on the door

A new man sending flowers

I don't want you anymore.

But I loved you real good

like a bad girl should

get your *** in gear baby

don't be asking why or maybe

cause you didn't treat me good

no no no you didn't

. . . like you said you would

adios amigo, you're crossed off my list

I'm got a brand new lover

who fills MY heart with bliss.

a good man baby who'll love me good

like a bad boy should. And he's gonna

love me baby the way you never could.
Jan 9 · 141
patty m Jan 9
As one journey begins, another is laid to rest,
constantly at odds, life puts us to the test.
Who said that life is fair, that goodness always wins,
that confession always triumphs over mounting sin?
Perhaps the joy of living is battling despair,
and finding ways to free ourselves from the pain that holds us there.
Behind a brooding mask in shadow long forsaken
we revisit countless paths and turns our lives have taken.
Reliving timeworn sweetness, we set chaos on the shelf
hidden in the darkness with doubts about ourselves.
Let's face today with spirit, battle scars make tougher hides,
with fierce determination we'll find great strength inside.  
For when we see the humor in desperate situations
we can best the beast of worry with amusing observations.
So enjoy each day along the way, through summer's warmth
come tarry,
for once buried 'neath the frozen earth,
how cold is January.
Jan 7 · 122
Rough Around The Edges
patty m Jan 7
I love grit, and spit and wit,
no soft fingers, I love callused hands
and country western bands

burgers on the griddle
and a well played fiddle,
an artist who can whiddle
and at night
someone to hold me tight
and make everthing all right
a man to hug and kiss, in endless bliss

I want a cowboy
Dec 2019 · 312
Kemit loves Piggy
patty m Dec 2019
When I married the second time, I thought I'd completely lost my mind
after vowing I'd never do it again.  Heck I was so disenchanted I was ready to
join the Pink Sisters and live in a convent only my daughter didn't care for that idea.
You say to yourself, Nah, not you Patty, don't you remember all the  abuse you withstood in your first marriage, you're lucky you got out alive.  
there I was planning a second wedding, *** I couldn't believe it myself.  My future]husband was 9 years older than me, a middle aged man who had lost his wife to cancer, and he made me trust again.
Joe is a huge muppet fan, and has a cute mouth shaped like Kermit's, not as big, hahahahahaha
and his tongue isn't as short and pink. Am I telling to much here?   Well I was his Miss Piggy,
and each time I said, "  Kermie Kermie Kermie" in my Miss Piggy voice, Joe would melt.  Well maybe I did more than just say Kermie Kermie Kermie?
My best friend knew our story and made a cake topper for us.  Of course it was Kermit and Miss Piggy.  Miss Piggy was dressed in a crocheted gown with a flowers and a very gossamer veil and she looked lovely.  While Kemit wore his tuxedo well with formal top hat on his head and looked very debonair.
When we opened our wedding presents there was a special gift to me from Joe a little music box with Kemit and Miss Piggy in a swing under an arbor, it's like a little gazebo, and when you play it the swing moves back and forth to the song Let Me Call You Sweetheart.   We found something in each other that was broken the first time around and is now mended.  We had a chance at being kids again, in finding joy in silliness and we have so much fun that I've never been sorry that I took the chance and tried marriage the second time.  Nine months after we were married our friends sent us all kinds of muppet babies,  I guess they couldn't figure out what kind of kids Kemit and Piggy would have. hahahaahhahaha
btw I don't look a thing like Miss Piggy except maybe my *****, but I can do her voice pretty well and the real Kermit didn't seem to go for brunettes
My Kermit has gone to heaven now, and there's a hole in my heart
that doesn't heal.  Yes I go on with life, with my beautiful family
and now my precious Abby age 3 who is a big Muppet Baby fan,
she has all the little characters and she's constantly flying them off in space rockets or planes or pulling them in a wagon, sometimes she does shows and mimics the voices.  I hope my Kermie is happy in heaven and sees the tradition being carried on.  
It's almost Christmas, the hardest time of the year when you miss loved ones.  To all of mine, my Joey and Mom and Dad, I send you love, and thoughts and prayers, poetic decorations, laughter to fill your hearts and lots of hugs.  
Merry Christmas to everyone at HP who reads me, and comforts me on bad days, and laughs with me on good ones, May your hearts be filled with joy throughout the Holiday Season.  May our Lord Jesus fill our world with love and caring and ease the suffering of countless people.
Kiss your children, find a kind word for someone, do a good deed
and write poem for today and tomorrow.  
Blessings and Love
and lots of hugs
Dec 2019 · 197
Poem Seeds
patty m Dec 2019
I awoke this morning.
a phrase rumbling through my head,
"Rich resonace of feeling"
I think it is a poem seed,
could it nurture the world?

The phrase suggests
musical vibrations, not the instruments.
Taste, not food,
feelings rotating around a color wheel,
red, blue, black, yellow,
mad, sad, scared, glad.

The colors can be lost in muddiness
the most violent among us stirring garish hues.
Not the straight-laced mad, who blend the
the dullness of depression,
nor crystal cleansing tears expressing sadness,
but the garishly dark spill of terror.

I  yearn for the friendly warmth of glad,
the satisfaction of a perfectly happy mix.
            Reverberating feelings cleanse my palette, I wish only,
            to paint the world safe,
            and take joy from  delightful surprises.  

Perhaps the seed will multiply across  earth
inspiring, those who desire more.

How blessed are the sowers
and reapers protecting bounty from weevil and ****.
Now golden grains of truth prevail,
waves of glorious poems
high atop stems, reach for the heights;
how beautiful the streaming babble,
a language all it's own.
igniting colors in everlasting tones;
spectrums of universal color
reflect in the human eye,
how easily the mind adapts
to rainbow conversation,
it's brilliance enhancing both earth and sky.
old poem reworked
Dec 2019 · 170
What's Inside The Box?
patty m Dec 2019
As a child the mere thought of something unopened
drove me wild with curiosity.
The simple rattle of a paper bag
sent me running to see;
my mind filled with countless possibilities.
Sometimes I was delighted
with a special treat or a book or puzzle
or something to fill my overactive imagination
Sometimes there was disappointment,
but that just taught me that life is not always kind
and we should make the most of what we've been given.
Once a cardboard box was delivered to the door,
and my heart thudded in my chest, delighting
in all possibility.  I was such a dreamer, that my
grandma's button box became a treasure chest
of jewels and puzzle pieces were maps to never seen lands,
I wanted to pull the box inside and tear it open. but
was stopped my a firm hand.  Grandpa, my precious playmate
heart of my heart, smelling delicious of Old Spice cologne and
Copenhagen *****, the scent of hand rolled cigarettes and
wine sweet upon his breath.  Grandpa who held me in his lap in the rocking chair
and played cards with me and cheated just as much as I did,
Grandpa who never yelled at me, held me firmly by the shoulder, tears running down his face, as he told me to go to my Mama
while he brought the cardboard box inside and laid his hand and head on top of it.   I was torn with wanting to comfort him
and wanting to do as he said.  So I ran to Mama, crying myself now
for no reason except that Grandpa was crying.
and I kept thinking maybe he was mad at me.  Mama assured me
he wasn't, and took me in her arms.  Later I learned the box held
items collected at random; some regal clothes, sage letters,
and silver and gold.  All the things that once belonged to my King
of the Mountain, my Zoo Explorer uncle, who was killed in war.
Among the remnants of a life, were soldiers uniforms, with medals
of bravery, a tiny locket with a picture of me, photos sent from home, and some of his buddies,  and pictures I had drawn and sent to him.
I had grown used to his being away, but not to this possibility
of never seeing him again.  How I cried, tears blurring vision, remembering a thousand play dates, with my small hand safe in his.  I will never forget my uncle Eddie, his kindness to a little girl, or the treat of cherry ice cream soda's, and stories given like gems.
I treasure them still.  Perhaps the gift I'll always remember most
was the vibrant life of this wonderful man, and the scent
that seeped out of the box, that scent all it's own, I breathed it in promising to remember it always.  I remembered playing hide and seek with him,  I could find him with my eyes closed by following his scent..  Mama says he watches over me still
and that he's returned to the stars, and sure enough I found one that I'm sure is him, because it twinkles like his eyes sparkly blue.
Dec 2019 · 448
patty m Dec 2019
Wild beautiful twilight

The stillness deepens dewy purple

Weaving air and sky

in ambiance.

Last light curls around petals,

like fingers touched with life.

Colors dance seductively

to wind soughing through trees.

This pleasing gift of whisper and shadow

wrapped in slippery time.
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