Revival

author’s note:

Communing with nature.


REVIVAL

A half moon lows
over this forest

as a dripping tree
hangs tiny pearls
on a web above me.

The spider with its spindly legs
plays those strings
like an angelic harpist
or maybe an old bluesman

while I wait...I wait
--mouth open and hoping

until finally
a starbright drop
of holy water
shakes loose, falls down--
down onto my tongue.

I savor this sacred gift
an infinite moment.
Then swallow down
eyes closed--
feeling the blessing
descend.

Once again, I’ve revived
a life I must sacrifice
to work in day’s dry light.

mythsteps · Revival

finding Beauty: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

When They Analyze Our Funerary Practices

author’s note:

I’ve finally decided on an inscription for my tombstone.  A line from Shakespeare:

“Exit, pursued by a bear.”


WHEN THEY ANALYZE OUR FUNERARY PRACTICES

Millennia from now
archaeologists may deduce
we believed we could
drive our way to heaven

when they uncover that Cadillac casket.

Or when they excavate
the burial mound
of a forgotten ancestor
who apparently thought
that half-ton truck
would transport him
to another realm.

To those prospectors I would say
the assumption you’ve made
is valid in this way:

some of us did indeed try to find paradise
behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Yes, they chose the wrong mode.
But if you are human
I’m sure you’ll understand
the drive that drove them:

that persistent desire
to ascend to bliss.

mythsteps · When They Analyze Our Funerary Practices

Butterfly Soul: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Talking to the Wee Folk In Case They Actually Exist

author’s note:

I think you can find mystery anywhere, everywhere.

But some places are just more conducive to the experience.


TALKING TO THE WEE FOLK IN CASE THEY ACTUALLY EXIST

When the hunter sprayed his friend
with buckshot
perhaps he was a little bit drunk
or perhaps you tricked him
because in his callous ignorance
he’d tromped over your clover
with his big clumsy boots.

Or because
you heard him laugh at
a folk legend loved in times past
when people still indulged
their sense of wonder.

Maybe some will say
I don’t like plain facts
but when my goosebumps rise
the plain fact is:
the one within this skin
senses mystery lurking.

But though I like to imagine
that mystery could be you
I know the mystery is probably
something I can’t possibly imagine.

No, forget what I just said!
Of course I believe you’re really here--

why else would I ask you
to forgive this fool
if he slips or trips?
Please, I pray--
I’m not obtuse, just transfixed
by the dark garden
of your forest labyrinth.

mythsteps · Talking to the Wee Folk in Case They Actually Exist

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Pole

author's note:

To be clear: that’s not stack of pineapples in the picture above.


THE POLE

When I found the pole
lying on the ground
at once I sensed its strength.

So I put the pole in the center
of my humble dwelling--

not to hold the ceiling up
but to hold me up:

whenever uncertainty
possessed my mind and body
I would grab onto the pole
and find security as I embraced
its smooth solid natural wood.

Sometimes during a storm
the roof would shake
and then the pole would slip.

But I’d simply pick it back up
and again feel safe.

Alas, when I was forced
out of my house
I had to leave the pole behind.
However, now as a nomad
I sit down by the campfire at night
and stick a twig in the ground
then tell myself: here is the pole.
By focusing
I regain that feeling of stability.

If they catch me--
if they beat me--
if they stand me
in front of a firing squad
I’ll take hold of the pole in my heart
and feel the fortitude to face all.

Some will surely say:
the pole I’ve found
is really just my own inner strength.

Maybe so, however
I never found that strength
until I found
the pole.

mythsteps · The Pole

Common Courage: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Prometheus, Revisited

author’s note:

Maybe the Greek gods were real after all.  That would explain the capriciousness of life.


PROMETHEUS, REVISITED

The myth of Prometheus
would seem to be a warning
to those who’d try to bring fire
down from the mountaintop.

As they did with him
the gods might wrap you in chains
and send an eagle down to devour
your liver every damn day.

Nonetheless I accepted the risk—
hoping to satisfy my creative impulse
(and my ego as well, of course).

But with that choice
I put myself in the chains
of ambition

then later refused
to set myself loose
when my sparks only made
small flames
that dwindled and died.

Though my ego died a bit
with each pathetic death
I actually pulled the chains tighter
because

those flickering promises
kept my aspiration burning

and by then I’d realized:
if I let that mad dream die
life would lack meaning
and so
my life would lack life.

Maybe I stoke my inner fire
with delusion
but hey—
sometimes in that way
fools make blazes
bright enough
to rouse the jealousy
of those who try to play god.

mythsteps · Prometheus, Revisited

40 New Fables
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Declaration of Independence

author's note:

This poem has become my Fourth of July tradition.

Happy birthday, America!--I love your mad beauty, despite the flaws.


DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

I'll be damn if I'll be terrorized
by anyone

including the beast in my mirror.

If I can face that monster
why should I cower
before those who lack
the courage to look
into their own reflections?

When they bombard me
my legs may tremble
but I won't sit--
no, I'll pirouette
in a defiant dance of joy!

And if they curse me
with cutting words
I’ll answer with a song designed
to soothe the wounds
that are theirs and mine.

But my empathy still has limits:
I must heal myself more before
I have heart enough to love them.

So though I declare with sincerity
I can not yet say
I’m completely free.


© 2020, Michael R. Patton
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