Poetry – “Planting”





Planting // by Jennifer Patino


It’s Springtime,
I billow out
to plant roses with seeds
from a 99 cents store

I’m a puff of cloud,
a discernible mist,
and I plant
on rocky terrain

Soon, I’ll cover, I’ll cover
the pathways,
the grave stones,
the bed sheets,

the bottom
of the clawfoot bathtub,
with petals
sainted with my patience

For now, I dissipate, conjoin
with wind, buy a wicker basket,
and leave my change
on the counter

I fade, I fade
into the desert sunset,
into a sweet fragrance,
into a black and clear night,

into nothingness,
like my pots of thorny skeletons
after the last sweltering summer
put an end to my initial bloom

The bell chime
above the shop’s door
rings in effigy,
following me home



This writer is a member of The Literati Mafia.



Poetry – “The Body”


UndonePhoto by Me



The Body // by Jennifer Patino


The body,
the body

I see myself
floating outside of my body

I am above my body,
and I realize
that these things
are happening
to someone else

Some other little girl
is thinking she can fly
at the family reunion,
and the umbrella she holds
floats away from her

She is attached, always attached,
to those arms reaching out for her
when all she truly wants is to float away


I am away from my body

The body,
the body

I float up above
the girl with metal worms in her hair,
and I remember when I was above myself
surrounded by sand everywhere
while seagulls pecked at me
and kept me silent with the threat of talons

I float above a hospital bed
and into the box above my head

I seep into the speaker cracks,
and see the technician as he watches me

The girl in the bed is twitching,
and my mind channel is switching
to the last time I saw a last breath taken

“Blue Cow”
“Red Dog”

The tech is calling my name

I am Blue Cow
I am Red Dog

I am awake and wondering what he’s talking about


I am above my body

The body,
the body

on the front porch
and I see my friends encircling
a figure resembling me

I see myself open my eyes

I see myself seeing myself
hovering above my loved ones,
and they are blurry mists, colorless,
obscuring my spirit
for the last time

I see myself listening to them
at my bedside,
but I cannot respond;
I hear them say
I am the best person they’ve ever known

I leave and go back to the ghost of me
lying on the wooden floor,
and that is someone else’s head
being knocked into the boards
by a self proclaimed Holy Man
misusing his power, his weapons

I tell myself there is no danger here,
that he is not present


I am back in my body

The body,
the body

and I have to make myself comfortable
or I’ll miss
the train home

I have to stay feeling
I’m more than a carcass,

more than
used and abused
flesh and bone



This writer is a member of The Literati Mafia.



#FlashbackFriday – Poetry – “Light Beams Over Cold Concrete”





Light Beams Over Cold Concrete // by Jennifer Patino


Within lyrical strings of music
floating by on the wind’s tail,
I on the cold, grey pave lay

The night is as black as tar in the sun,
the stars shine bright as day

No clouds, no streetlamps
to block my view,

my robin’s breast hair fanning my dwelling,
my head tilted, slightly askew

All nearby surroundings sound so obscure,
yet distant calls beckon to me so clearly

The icy cool flames send chills down me,
piercing me, through and through

These bring to mind small inklings,
little thoughts of you


(I cast them astray…for you have gone away)


I shake and I shudder as I feel my own heartbeat
among layers of silk, and my lonely, cold body

I turn as I hear the first shooting star whisper
your name that so quickly passes through my fingers

To hold on to your image and presence in my sight,
I make that wish upon the next beam of light

And once again I am warmed by you, apparition of my lover
who pulls me in far deeper than the moon could ever wonder

One light for each kiss, each passionate connection
that count each reason I love you


(Please, hear my confession)


I’ve loved, and I’ve lost, now I love and I live,
and every ounce of my soul to you do I give

So come back once again, my feelings do not smolder,
for I could not bear for this concrete to grow colder


July 21, 2006



This writer is a member of The Literati Mafia.



Poetry – “And I’ll Be Whispering ‘Yes, yes'”




And I’ll Be Whispering “Yes, yes” // by Jennifer Patino


I’ll never be a famous poet,

but I’ll be clapping in the back row
as beauty takes the stage,

full-frontal soul bearing,
and I’ll be scraping the bottom of
my own withered artichoke,

mustering up a tear
for the trembling spotlight,

and beaming over back covers
like a proud mother


I’ll be a fellow fledgling
to all the broken birds


We’ll craft pieces out of smaller pieces,
and world-build from rock bottom

One day, I’ll be bled dry,
but I’ll still observe it all

from the blurry edge



This writer is a member of The Literati Mafia.



Poetry – “Land”




Land // by Jennifer Patino


Unsteady legs know
the way through that house

The body holds the memory
of the pathway, & clumsy feet follow

They were made for dancing,
she was told, but in dream

and only in dream
can all these faces feel so foreign

The eyes that once knew her,
now cold where fire used to blaze

She grew wings out of wounds,
flew to the desert, with its magnetic pulse,

its endless sorrows, its waiting, its desiccation,
its sharper sun, its different shades of pain,

its healing, its secrets —ones for the hidden—
its ability to shield her, protect her

It is hers now, in a way, though she’ll never
claim any piece of anything the same way

ever again, but none of it matters anymore
because her legs can never rest,

though she is still, she is running,
dancing, forever on guard to take flight

from this house, like that house, until
she finds a home to land in



Poetry – “Twilight Moths”





Twilight Moths // by Jennifer Patino


From the quiet of my corner,
I watch the twilight moths gather,

their feather light humming
draws the full moon closer

I see through a needle’s eye,
the ash grey craters,

thumbprints of Creator,
and I think of my Grandmothers,

Moon up above,
and my earthly one in Spirit

whose gossamer wings now dance
in the fireflies’ glow

Her wisdom floats on the desert breeze,
and I breathe in shaky, and deep

because now I know, for one moment,
that oneness is near

Then the night birds call
the angels home, and the

celestial spectacle before me clears,
and succumbing to lunar mysteries,

the dusk moths silently
disappear as the stars listlessly fall



Poetry – “There Are Still”





There Are Still // by Jennifer Patino


six more days here and roiling stomachs
already match the sea           making love
to the rhythm of siren song and we are
bound for rocky ground the same as

the sailors in alleyways who prowl for
fish women with golden gills and eyes
the color of the horizon at summer sun-
set                                       eyes that signal

luminous lighthouses guiding loneliness
home        we have nothing good waiting
for us        only our deep ocean secrets to
be buried while they are still heavy enough

to hold a flopping, fighting creature down
only for the worst of us to resurface after
so long               there are still underwater
plots left so pick your corner and play the

maritime tunes that will undoubtedly tune
out any mermaid melodies that should es-
cape                               there are still heroes
somewhere, busy slashing out the last days