Our Secret Truth

author’s note:

Alas, I decided to delete my favorite line:

“I stopped squirming like an unearthed earthworm”


OUR SECRET TRUTH

Dreams know where we need to go.

So last night as I slept
an unseen force
lifted me up without a touch
and hung me up
in an open black space.

Though the room had disappeared
I could still see my bed
below in the darkness.
So I tried to wiggle free
knowing I could expect a soft landing.

But whatever held me
would not release me.
And as my anxiety mounted
I begin to fight
and when my struggle proved futile
I fought harder, then harder still

until I feared I might go mad
if I continued
and so

I forced myself to stop
and let my frame sag lamely in the dark.

Then I waited—
enduring the tedious torture
of being pinned—
waited
until the child within
finally surrendered to the situation
and quit whining.

And when the noise cleared
I then sensed
the strength within my soul.
And so my torment ended.
And so I woke from the dream.

So easy to forget what I’ve got
until I’m forced once more
to rediscover that secret truth.

Get the Message: short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

The Taming of the Terrific Two

author’s note:

Artwork by Dr. Sal de Mar.


THE TAMING OF THE TERRIFIC TWO

Looking for a righteous cause
a modest couple adopted
two wild-eyed orphans
from the far-flung mountains
of Tierra del Fuego.

But the kids didn’t seem to appreciate
that well-intentioned gift—
the restraint of their new tidy home
spurred them to a rebellion of storm.

Those little inferno tornadoes
spun through the rooms—
whirling papers, overturning chairs,
ripping through curtains and couch cushions.

But the patient parents persisted in their discipline—
telling the terrific two:
in order to function in this world
you must learn to sit still
for more than the length of a sneeze.

And indeed, the kids eventually did
out of respect.  But
were only able to tolerate the harness
because they still danced in their hearts
to the song of the del Fuego blaze
playing in their heads.

Fortunately as adults
they’ve found ways to express their fire
within the lines of lawful conduct:

we see them lighting the torch of a righteous cause.

Maybe the rustic philosopher said it best
when she said:

lightning tamed
will not destroy
but light the way
for us all.

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Forget Heaven

author’s note:

“I yam what I yam”
        -- Popeye

Okay, Popeye, but what are you, really?


FORGET HEAVEN

Since science could not tell me
what the true nature of my being is
I chose the belief below
realizing it would serve me well--

an idea in line with this close observation:

even as these limbs
slowly lose momentum
I can feel an inner force
gradually gaining strength:
    rising--
    refining its energy.

Maybe I’m just imagining.
But in any case
I can't accept waste--I can’t accept
that what I’ve gained
through this experience
will be lost after death--
no, the entity I am
will still spin--
somewhere
in some form
I’ll be spinning up.

Some will surely say
I hold to this belief
because I want to ease
my fear of death.

But even if I realized they were right
I would still keep this belief
because it lifts me
to a place of wonder
and acceptance of all:

if I’m a spinning top
so is everyone else--
we all keep on rising
long after this life stops.

Forget heaven.
Heaven would be quitting
and I believe
the desire to be more
is ultimately stronger
than the wish to rest.
So though we may relax
occasionally
on our way up
we never stop climbing.

My War for Peace: poetry ebook—new and improved!
dream steps blog
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Two Types of Happiness

author’s note:

“Prosperity is just around the corner.”
            – Herbert Hoover


TWO TYPES OF HAPPINESS

These days, I tell myself:

don't squander your time
seeking the type of happiness
ruled by the whimsy
of a mad god called “Fortune”--
he will turn his smile into a frown
without warning.

These days, I tell myself:

find the type of happiness found
by those who have gone through darkness
and now beam the beatific smile.

For too long, I believed
I’d find Fortune smiling at me
just around the next corner

and so I worked to turn
corner after corner after corner.

Some may say
I “took a few bad turns”.
To that I’d answer:
I was always spiraling upward.

In fact I now believe
I was actually following
a grand plan made for me:

in the darkness of disappointment
I finally saw what I truly needed
and stopped praying to the erratic god--
now I work to create
a light strong enough to survive
whatever twists of fate await.

Yeah I know
I’m still kinda dim
but I haven’t lost hope--
by continuing this upward course
I hope
to one day be among those
who beam that beatific smile.

My War for Peace: poetry ebook—new and improved!
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Ocean Song

author's note:

Is there a human mouth that
doesn’t give out soul-sound?
         -- Rumi (trans. Barks)


OCEAN SONG

The day after a death
I feel the shock
of final loss
yet also the joy
of knowing that life--

I’m overwhelmed and tossed about
by capricious waters--
suddenly
lifted from my sadness
by a surge of loving gratitude

then in the next moment
yanked down again
by the undercurrent of grief.

Struggling mightily in this chaotic mix
I feel the power of my emotion
and realize myself to be
someone greater
than the one who does those daily chores.

But as my chest continues to tighten
I fear I’ll die if I don’t let loose.

So though I dread the work
I try…I try…I try
to express the inexpressible:

again and again and again
I aspire upward
riding a geyser of words

only to fall short
and slap down on the ground

in an overheated sprawling spill
again and again and again.

But I guess these messes
still reflect the blue sky above.

In any case
as a human being
you’re probably well-acquainted
with the blessed curse of feeling
so maybe you’ll tolerate
(or even appreciate)
a pipe who spouts lines
like these:

drowning in feeling
we try, in desperation
to empty our hearts
by shouting out
an ocean song.

© 2022, Michael R. Patton
Soultime: a novel

Our New God

author’s note:

The plywood pictured above wanted to be an artist…

But lacking canvas and brushes, what could it do?  It did what all wise boards do: it used the weather of years to transform itself into a work of art.


OUR NEW GOD

Though we maintain many gods
that serve us in all sorts of ways
I think we need one more

to occasionally help us regain our wits.

The new god we’ll create
won’t guide us on questions
of morality
or the purpose of life.
No

this god will simply say:
you can feel me and know me
by becoming quiet
and listening down within.

Then maybe, feeling curious
we’ll stop and listen
and perhaps for the first time
experience
the mystery of silence.

And when we return
to the world outside
in our new clarity, we’ll begin to sense
the secret silence--
the invisible shadow
within everything
--even the air--

and realize:
the spirit of this god
lives everywhere.

I’m sure some will challenge
the reality of our invented god.
To them, I say:
any mystery so deeply felt
must be real

and to feel what’s really real
is a good way to keep one’s wits
in these witless times.
Time to be with this god.

you tube channel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

The Fable of the Modest Woman Who Glowed

author’s note:

A poem about modesty for these immodest times.


THE FABLE OF THE MODEST WOMAN WHO GLOWED

When he said she glowed
she replied,
“I only reflect some distant sun.”

But later
after they became more familiar
he placed his hand over her heart
late one night
and told her:
“I can feel the deep fire of spirit.”

“No, only heat from
 the pumping of blood,”
 she sighed.

“So, would you prefer I see you
 as merely something mechanical?”
 he asked her.

“Well, okay then, if you insist:
 I glow with the deep fire of spirit.”

40 New Fables
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Monster Behind the Door: a Dream

author’s note:

From experience, I say: dreams don’t lie.


MONSTER BEHIND THE DOOR: A DREAM

I decided to face that monster
I could feel lurking
on the opposite side of the door.

But as I pulled the knob
that beast pulled against my pull

so I gave up and tried
to push the door all the way shut

but then that shadow force
pushed against my push.

In nervous frustration
I then upped my courage
another notch:

I stopped

and stepped back

which allowed the door
to swing open.
Darkness suddenly vanished
into light then
and the wail I’d heard
coming from a banshee
became the cry of a small child
abandoned on the floor.

Unfortunately
I awoke from the dream then

so I can’t tell you if I lifted that child up

but from experience
I can say for certain:
once opened
those doors do not close.

The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

On Easter

author's note:

An Easter poem from my early days.

Am I a better poet now?  I don't know, but at least I can spell "flowers".

Interesting...I see how I've carried forward a motif: being cleansed and renewed by the waters of life that fall from above.

SOULTIME in paperback
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

When She Looks Down

author’s note:

I use the third-person pronoun in this poem because I’ve never actually considered returning…

But I can understand why someone would.


WHEN SHE LOOKS DOWN

Long ago, she began to pull a plow
up this steep slope
after being told she’d find
a terrace somewhere in the upper reaches.
There, she could plant her crops
close to the sun
and reap great abundance--
she could earn a paradise.

But sometimes on this trek
she stops to rest
and then looks down
at her old life far below
on that gentle level ground--

from a distance
its way seems so much easier.

She then begins to question
her decision--

she’ll think:
maybe I won’t gain a paradise
if I continue to climb
but lose one--
down below I could chat and drink
and feed and sleep
in the pleasant shade of the cliffside--
I could fade to my end quite contentedly.

But if I returned
wouldn’t I always wonder

what I might’ve discovered
above those mountain clouds?

To abandon my work would be
to abandon an aspiration
that has given my life meaning.

All my hard-earned progress lost
in the dizzy whim of a moment!

In regret, I might feel
even weaker than I feel
when I’m climbing.
Even smaller.  Totally insignificant.

At this point in her thought process
she’ll tell herself:
okay, I won’t return today
though I could
and indeed I might--
tomorrow.

Then she’ll stand
and begin to climb again--
having completed yet another round
of a mind game she uses
to move her feet
when she feels so fatigued--
so frustrated
and lower instinct
threatens to triumph
over higher.

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry ebook
Myth Steps blog
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Washing in the Rain

author's note:

Some may ask: does this the poem describe an actual event?

Metaphorically, yes.


WASHING IN THE RAIN

I knelt down in an empty field
I raised my arms to the storm

and begged
the god of lightning
to blast me open--

so desperate
to break my stubborn bars
I'd risk total destruction.

But once again that god
refused to respond
and once again I realized:

you don't tell the gods
what to do--
they tell you.

And so, once again
I laid myself down
in defeat and wept
and let

the blank rain soak
into my blood
into my bones--

cleansed, I was
though in the mud:

I love
to rediscover
that cold blue naked purity

until
my shivering
goes from mild to violent--

the body's way of saying
be sensible now--go inside

and so I did
and so I sit
working on this poem--
working to open:

obeying the orders
of the god of myself--
though I'm so annoyed
to hear, once again:

be patient.  Go slow.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

Spinning & Turning

author's note:

With regret, I cut these lines from the poem below:

"as any witch who sweeps at night
  would tell you:
  change often goes unnoticed."


SPINNING & TURNING

A year or so ago
I awoke from a dream
of a cock crowing on a rooftop--
silhouetted distinctly
by the pink-gold of a rising sun

which I believed symbolized
the arrival of a glorious new life
after decades of hard labor.

But when the weeks passed
and I continued to spin
without appearing to turn
I began to doubt again--

what more could I do
to shatter whatever invisible barrier
blocked my forward progress?--

perhaps something new
would bring in the new

so I began a slew
of fresh healthy activities:

I chanted along
with a recording of monks

and wrote daily in a dream journal--
analyzing scenes of mirrors and fog.

I surreptitiously laid
a stone walkway
in our city park--
a monument to the many strong people
working in the shadows
for the good of all.

I rearranged my files
then rearranged the rearrangement--

signaling to
the powers that be
(maybe outside, maybe within me)
that I was quite ready
for the disruption
of a new beginning.

But despite all I did
I still seemed to spin
without turning

so I again darkened with doubt

until a dream showed
pink-gold sunrays
erasing the gray
of a skylight above me.

Waking in joy
I then began to crow--
finally I understood:

though the mornings
may seem the same
I am turning my world.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook

How Beauty Came from Pain

author's note:

It is apparently more important to nature that one should have consciousness, understanding, than to avoid suffering.
            -- C.G. Jung


HOW BEAUTY CAME FROM PAIN

In the dream
beauty came from pain

as I watched you
embrace the tree--
a lover finding the lover
who knows her need:

to be healed
so she could heal others
in pain.

A symbiotic relationship
working by osmosis:

as you healed yourself
with the tree’s love
you fed the tree with your love

and so your eyes gleamed
on one of its emerald leaves

but many eyes appeared on the leaves above

next time
I hope to see mine

so I've renewed my vow
to open and embrace

despite the slow pain of surrender...

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
finding Beauty: poetry ebook