The Plus of My Minus

author’s note:

We all have a stairway.


THE PLUS OF MY MINUS

In a dream
I climbed to the top of the stairs
despite missing a muscle in one leg.
How I struggled.

Why would anyone hampered
by such an injury
drag themselves up a stairway
when they could just as well sit
and rest ‘til death?

Maybe I imagine
through the act of lifting myself up
I’ll transform
into someone whole.

Or maybe I hope
when I reach the top
success will ease the pain
of this deficiency.

However
I don’t think I felt triumphant
at the end of the dream.
In any case
my leg hadn’t grown another muscle.

But that’s okay--
now I can see
how my minus actually benefits me:

as I struggle I grow stronger.

So I’ll keep struggling--
I’m desperate
to rid myself of this feeling of weakness.

Perhaps my dream
is also a dream for the human race:

yes, we’re missing at least one muscle
in at least one leg
but as a result
maybe we’ll continue to struggle--
maybe we’ll continue to climb.

No, I don’t think
we will ever be whole
but with each step we take
we will lift ourselves up
and then stand in a better place.

mythsteps · The Plus of My Minus

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Bird Watching

author's note:

Bird bird bird b-bird’s the word.
          -- from “Surfin’ Bird” by The Trashmen


BIRD WATCHING

Years ago when I was told
I should choose a totem animal
to express who I was
my aspiration said: “wings”.

Don’t we all wish for wings?

Since then
my desire hasn’t changed:
I still want to be the high-flying eagle.

Yes, I do soar sometimes
but in truth, I spend more time
on the ground
as a Bantam

and often show off
like the inflated Peacock

but even then
most people still see me as “Wren”.

Or perhaps as a Dodo--
unable to adapt
to these batty times.

I share their view sometimes
but I can also see
I’m the nimble sandpiper
racing down the beach--
finding delight in that seam
where two worlds meet.

Yes, I know
my Crow caw sounds raw
but I feel compelled
to shout alarm

and anyway
I do try to soften my tone
by adding the simple beauty
of the Meadowlark’s song.

Unfortunately, I often
I muffle that voice
by being an Ostrich.

However
I keep trying to take my head out

if only to discover
what other birds I might be.

But who among us
doesn’t possess
many species of bird?

Dancing to Raven’s Song: a novel
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Phoenix Relaxes Before Rising from the Ashes

author’s note:

I feel I’m living in a phoenix country...but maybe I’m living in a phoenix world.


THE PHOENIX RELAXES BEFORE RISING FROM THE ASHES

I am the phoenix bird
and I’m here to tell you a secret:
after each crash
I enjoy a short break
before rising from the ashes:

a part of me just wants to relax--
why fight
if no victory can ever be final?

But though I find comfort
in the soft gray nest at first
soon, I start to feel dull and dim

and so, begin to work
to rekindle my fire--
by now I know how.

And when I’m able to fly away
I’ll tell myself what I tell myself
every time I rise up:
be careful not to burn too hot.

Maybe someday I’ll obey
that wisdom within me--
though I may not feel
the same fiery thrill
at least I won’t crash.

But I wonder--
do I secretly desire
that archetypal drama?

33 1/3 New Fables & Myths
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Monkey King

author’s note:

Written at time when people could still monkey around.


THE MONKEY KING

Wishing to express
his secret self on Halloween
the man of aspiration planned
to go to the party
dressed as a warrior
or a king
or
a warrior-king

but the sales clerk told him:
“Sorry, but it seems
  this year everyone wants to be
  either some type of warrior
  or
  some type of royalty.
  All we have left on the rack
  is this monkey outfit.”

“But I don’t want to be a monkey,”
  the man whined.

“Think about it,” the clerk replied.
“Can an armored knight
  scale one hundred foot of jungle vine
  in a mere minute?
  Can a king swing from tree to tree?”

Though not quite persuaded
the man of aspiration acquiesced.

At least, I'll be unique, he thought.

But no!--
he arrived at the party house
to find
half the celebrants dressed
in the same monkey costume
he’d bought:
the shop had unloaded a truckload
purchased at discount.

That clerk made a monkey out of me
our man sighed as he deflated.

But in his humility
he shrugged what the hell
and lowered himself down
to join that crowd
in their monkeyshines.

And what a freedom of fun!--
those pretend-simians
flailed and hopped
in a dizzy giddy dance--
they filled the room
with their gibber-jabber--
occasionally bursting into
high-pitched hollers
that made the roof shingles shiver.

Some swung from the balustrade.
Some kept putting banana peels
under the heels
of those with upturned noses.

But then
towards the end of the evening
that barrel of monkeys
calmed a bit
and paired off to pick
imaginary bugs from synthetic hair.

In this way, our man met
a woman who, like him
dreamed of wearing
both sword and crown.

A good match
aided, I believe, by its low-brow
beginning--
consider:

better I first see you as monkey
before knowing you as royalty
otherwise
I may feel disillusioned
when I discover my highness
sometimes slides
all the way down to the ground
on a grapevine.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
40 New Fables: ebook