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author’s note:

Hoping I might provide a little bit of light at this dark time.

Best wishes for the holidays.
 

THE LIGHT OF DECEMBER AT MIDNIGHT

Night feels darker in December…

I open myself
to the strange deep quiet
of Solstice

and stop my walk
and open my eyes
to that nativity scene
I think looks so cheap.

Suddenly I see
the pink plastic baby
lying in tinsel straw
is the new life
hidden in my heart:

a slow gestation—
the birth not guaranteed.

Then I see
that glittery styrofoam star
is the wise one within—
the one who often sighs with sadness
at the sight of my rough antics

and then—alas!—I see
that plywood cow beside the manger
is my own domestically-dull head.

Yes, I’m still quite dim…

nonetheless
I can see the light
in this dark season

so maybe there’s reason
for hope.
 


© 2018, Michael R. Patton
40 New Fables: ebook

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author’s note:

No such thing as a bad dream!
 

LIGHT FROM A DARK DREAM

As I struggled to navigate
the dark labyrinth
of that dream…

what a shock when
the thin guiding thread broke
and soon after that
my small lamp blew out

then in the smoky fog
I tried to find my way
with careful fingertips

but my sense of touch
had dulled.

What a blessing that dream!—
because…

when I awoke to its light
I began to see again.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog

author’s note:

I may be a fraidy cat.  But I’m a fraidy cat with curiosity.
 

BEFORE A STEP

In the dream, a door swings open

as if daring me to step inside.

I want to accept
but because I see
only darkness beyond
I hesitate

even though I know
I’ll eventually step—
just because I’m so
damn curious.

If I’d employed that guide
I wouldn’t feel this fear

but without fear
how I can realize my strength?

Yes, when I finally step
at first, I’ll feel lost

but whatever path I then find
will be my own.
 

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

 

author’s note:

This poem, written on Christmas Eve 2007, has become my Christmas tradition…

But traditions change over time.  This year, I’ve added a subtitle.

 

CHRISTMAS BAT
(or: The Birth Pains of Winter)

In this season, when we recognize
the birth of bright new life
in the darkest dark…

I wanted to give you all
an appropriate poem
of sweet Christmas light

but my heart stubbornly refused
to sing of our ideal Yuletide—

instead, this bat poem
demanded to be born:

   Cold cave and dung—
   there I hung
   wet with stalactite drops

   until a vampire bat perceived
   how tedious torturous time
   had finally ripened me—

   its bite woke me up—
   those painful fangs burst me free!—

   so that I might soar
   and sow my seed.

Some poems won’t let you go
until you open their cage
so after I wrote that batty rhyme
I felt quite relieved

until the child within me said,
“Okay—
 now you can warm me
 with a real Christmas story!”

I tried (but in vain)
to placate
that hungry innocent
with this insight:

  doesn’t that flighty verse
  actually speak of Christmas?—

  of new life born
  from the darkest night?

 

© 2016, Michael R. Patton
Searching for My Best Beliefs: a poetry book

find WHAT I LEARNED WHILE ALONE on amazon

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