In a Field of Clover

author’s note:

If you can’t find a four-leaf clover, I say: just use a little tape.


IN A FIELD OF CLOVER

“Your body is a green field of clover.”

When I found that line recently
I cringed with embarrassment—
what a silly besotted troubadour!

But then I remembered
the meadow of clover
where we’d once laid down
to rest.

And then I wanted to unremember
and when I couldn’t
I decided to return to that clover field—
desperate for a way to resolve
the conflict in my head.

So Sunday morning I drove
along that isolated dirt road
until I found the field.
Then I stopped and wandered out to the spot
and laid down on my back.

Again I felt
the cushiony springs of green beneath me.
Again I felt
the bright fleecy clouds breezing above me.

And to my surprise
in short time
all the commotion inside died—
my head felt delightfully light.

But then suddenly
a tree branch at field’s edge
splintered the sun’s rays
and a prism fell right into my eye
and I began to cry.

But not like a child, no—
I wept like someone
who’s lived long enough
to have learned well enough
the value of the complicated relationships
we endure and enjoy
with the complicated people
who leap or creep into our lives
for reasons too complicated
to ever fully comprehend.

Yes, I’d often told myself about the value
but I’d never actually felt gratitude
until I put thought to rest
and allowed emotion to rule
in the naked quiet
of a meadow filled
with soft clover love
and love from a Sunday morning sun.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

The Fable of the Good Couple

author’s note:

Narcissus looked into a mirror…

But he never really saw himself.


THE FABLE OF THE GOOD COUPLE

He saw the light in her
and she saw the light in him
and so
they fell in love

then suddenly became monsters
to one another.
Why?

Why did they snarl and snap
when alone together?

The spirits standing behind them knew--
they knew

how that guy always prided himself
on his goodness.
How he loved hearing his goodness praised!

They knew
that gal prided herself
on her goodness too.
How she loved hearing her light praised!

They knew
she now worried
he might outshine her
just as he worried
she might outshine him.

He fell into some dreadful thoughts--
saying to himself:
Just look at her--
she thinks she’s so good.
If people could only see
how she growls at me!

And alas
she raged within
with the same harsh thoughts
about him!

Maybe you’ll be surprised to hear
the spirits had actually put those two together.
You see, they know
the best among us can always be better
and sometimes need catalysts
to help them improve.
They know
a mirror can serve this purpose--
someone who reflects your faults.

But even the best
often don’t not want to see
their faults reflected in a mirror
and may protect themselves from clarity
by stirring up
all sorts of commotion.

Fortunately
exhaustion has a way
of helping us accept the truth:

finally they lacked the energy
to argue more
and slumped to floor

and in that moment of stillness
he looked at her
and she looked at him
and both suddenly realized
how alike they were.

At this point
I can reward your patience
with a happy ending--
but perhaps not the happy ending
you expected.

After achieving that insight
the couple soon understood
their life together
had reached its conclusion:
he no longer needed her
and she no longer needed him.

To this day, she praises him
for how he helped her
become a better person
and in the same glowing way
he lauds her.

Nonetheless, I sometimes detect
of hint of competition
when they check each other
from a distance.

Ah, but maybe that’s for the best:

he needs a bit of motivation
when he feels fatigued in his good fight
just as she does when she
tires in hers.

However
neither ever forgets
what they saw
on the brighter side of that mirror--
he saw as she saw
they share the same light.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myth
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Deep Truth

author's note:

I think we dream in order to see the truth.


THE DEEP TRUTH

Science has demonstrated:

if two people--any two--
stay in a small room together
for more than twenty-four hours
their hearts will began to beat in synch--
yes, their hearts will be in harmony!

A finding which seems to go against
what we both know, based on experience:
close quarters cause friction, tension.

Well, yes:
within the limitations of this space
I often feel at odds with you
as I struggle with all the conflict
gnarling in my head.

But then
in the peace of a quiet moment
I’ll hear my heart again
and once again realize
the truth of our deep harmony.

myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 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

A House of Tolerance

author's note:

I'd like to thank those who have been tolerant of my menagerie...


A HOUSE OF TOLERANCE

Last night, while dreaming of
my solitary house
I opened a broom closet
and a bundled body fell out...

one more mystery character to unwrap--
another

in a wide cast
that includes both commanders
and slaves,
mountebanks as well as monks--
a riotous mix.

So please excuse me if I hesitate
to invite you in--
though I may seem quite quiet
I'm actually a carousel
of commotion.

Yes, at first, you might enjoy
the entertainment
but in time, a circus
can become very overbearing--

I know because I live with me.

A struggle
but with its benefits:
by learning to be
more tolerant of myself
I’ve become
more tolerant of others.

Maybe you want to enter
this solitary house
because you're also trying to learn
tolerance...

well, in that case, okay.

Anyway
I think I'm tolerant enough now
to handle our inevitable
fits of exasperation.

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

Inside Out

author’s note:

Another poem posted earlier and recently revised.

I've heard that whales can signal to each other from many miles away.

I think people can do the same thing--we just aren’t aware that we’re sending and receiving.


INSIDE OUT

Whales bounce sound around
in thickly-layered water--
vibrations
alien to me, and yet--
somehow familiar.

The whole planet floats, rocks
up and down
on the ocean.
You can feel the motion
in your sea legs

and in your stomach--you feel pregnant, you feel
that life has tricked you
while you slept in bed.  You used to see
a sidewalk and a street
and think that was the world.

Now you can’t very well
tell anyone what you hold--
though we all walk around
with these bulks
in our bellies--
               and any erratic
movement
can cause the water
to splosh,
to spill
and then some small part of you
will land on the pavement
like a broken egg.  Something
purple or maybe dark blue--something
of another world and yet
there it is
in this world.

So what do you do?

You feel an urge to clean that puddle
up.  You also feel the urge
to flee.

Maybe you broke because someone nearly
smacked into you--or maybe you two
did collide--and now someone you don’t know--
or maybe someone you thought you knew--
stares down, mesmerized but also partially
sickened by that inexplicable amniotic fluid
squiggling and twisting
on the asphalt.

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “No--my fault,”
comes the response.
But owning up doesn’t change the aftermath.
You’re both still shocked and awkward

and if you could leave you would
because the other person also spilled

and now his lake begins to
curl into yours as yours begins to curve
around his

and thus,
we are confronted with the supernatural,
with newly discovered lifeforms.

You knew they existed, but after
seeing that splotch
on the ground
you can no longer
ignore
their existence.

So again--what can you do?
You can’t run away because
the stronger will says to stay.
But you can’t wipe it up because
it's not a mistake, not even an accident--
what will be done is done and
what’s done is not yet over.
We’ll just have to let
what will happen
happen.

I will say this:
our life, at least,
is now
much more

interesting.

© 2008, Michael R. Patton
poems in audio