Assorted Poems

Saturday, November 19, 2011


So much babble in my ears
A little from my peers
But most of it comes my way
From politicians who bark and bray
Promising this, promising that
Vacillating at the drop of a hat
Do it my way or else you'll suffer
Their own errors they buffer
Talking heads each and every one
Wanting selfish validation
For no apparent action.
Each standing at a podium
Ranting ad nauseam
So hard to make up my mind
Who is the one I'll find
That will be aligned
For the good of all
And yet stand tall?
© Mel Patterson, 11-19-11

Labels: , , , , , , ,

Thursday, November 17, 2011


When dawn arises from the midnight of my dreams
My eyes flicker open and I stretch with a wide yawn
The fleeting void of the night has vanished it seems
And with the arching of my back all slumber is gone.
Shuffling toward the aroma of morning's fresh brew
I'm revived and looking forward to the unfolding
Cloudless day of bright sun in the sky of azure blue
And I'm seeing the glories of nature unfolding.
I bask in this early morning contemplation
Marveling at the many faceted prisms of my mind
With thoughts spiraling to the most lofty meditation
To realms insatiably evolving I am inclined.
The hour has come to snap out of my ethereal flight
Rein in the thin thread of my thought and my desire
And reluctantly be about the work I early fight
Preferring loftier heights to which I aspire
And when duties' done I may acquire
A higher spire.
© Mel Patterson, 11-17-11

Labels: , , , , , , ,

Sunday, November 13, 2011


It is said no pain, no gain.
If this is true why feign,
hiding tears that rain
down my face!
It's no disgrace to cry
And wonder why
I sob and moan
and suffer alone.

Pain is subjective at best
It needs to reach its' crest
Wailing I detest
On my face!
Finally the crying stops
My heart flip-flops,
My soul has flown
My spirit has grown.

© Mel Patterson, 11-13-11

Thursday, November 10, 2011


The 22 pound turkey was roasting
And inwardly I was boasting
Its' spilled juices were hot;
I simply had to blot!
I flung off my red oven mitt ablaze with fire;
I stomped on it hard, my need dire.
Then noticed other flames - Holy Moly!
Why didn't I choose to serve Bertoli!
I ran to the sink my apron enflamed
Ran the water - Whew! I exclaimed.
I calmly trod into the family room
Fire put out, there was no fume.
Everyone sat with eyes agape;
We all laughed for heaven's sake.
A charred hole was visible to each eye;
The apron and the mitt the tale did bely.
A roar of laughter sprung from their guts
At the expense of this silly ole dumb klutz.
The smile this evokes when I remember
My apron and mitt became an ember
On Thanksgiving Holiday that November.
© Mel Patterson, 11-10-11