Growth

author’s note:

A poem of encouragement for these dire times…

…but not a poem of false hope.


GROWTH

Years ago in a dream
I collapsed by a creek
and in the sliding water saw
squiggles of my gray hair
drifting away

leaving me
with a bald pink scalp

which suddenly sprouted
a cover of baby fuzz.

Shocked, I awoke--
afraid for myself

but then I realized
I’d witnessed a rebirth!

Thus encouraged
I continued my work of change
with renewed enthusiasm.

But though I’ve toiled for years since
I see little gain--
I’m still so far from
the one I hope to become:
the calm wise lion
with flowing golden mane--

no,
I’m still too much the cub
spun by sudden storms of emotion.

However
I was heartened recently
by another dream:
a woman on the path
lowered her bucket so I could see
a watery reflection:

above my blank confused face
a standing field of wild hair
shimmied in the wind--
the stalks pale-yellow, but
I did detect a richer shade
peeking out at the roots.

So apparently
despite my flaws
I’m able to grow gold.

But of course--

look at all the gold
spun by our flawed world.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
poet, heal thyself: ebook

When I Saw Your Tresses on the Pillow...&...Great Life

dear reader:

Two for the price of one today.


WHEN I SAW YOUR TRESSES ON THE PILLOW

How can these wild dreams be
true tales of a tame waking life?

I asked myself when I awoke
from that dream in which
your tresses cascaded
down a long set of steps

then answered that question
by shining a soft light
over your fierce tangles
and discovering there
a waterfall of fiery life.




GREAT LIFE

Frustrated by the necessary limitations
of my crib...

I find release
in the expansion granted
by my nightly dreams

which, I'm told
are actually pictures
of my pen...

what a great life we secretly live.

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

Pulling My Hair

author's note:

Awareness is key.  Maybe I should say "the key".


PULLING MY HAIR

Have you ever heard
an angel weep
as it pulls your hair?

These empathetic
yet merciless attendants
have promised me
they'll stop being
such demons

if I will only catch myself
when I begin to slip

but oh!--
in a blink, I can slip
and I blink so often.

I swear I'm trying
to keep my eyes open:

I weep and curse
as they pull me up
by the hair.

my war for peace: a poetry book
© 2017, Michael R. Patton