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Best Poems Written by Melissa Wadkins Patterson

Below are the all-time best Melissa Wadkins Patterson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Yellow Heart

This morning I wrote a poem
about a yellow heart 
pining for red fusion,
in a desperate attempt
to shake the fruit
that never 

falls

And tonight I am alone
without tangerine lips
or the temptation of apple,
carefully watching familiar verses 
unravel themselves
and fanatically dance around
like a final punctuation mark
or an overused cliche,
while my hands whittle metaphors
into a quick-witted instrument
sharp enough to scrape
the smeared imagery
off the sidewalk of poem,

Still I am not sorry
the fruit has not


fallen
to kiss my weary head,
it takes an overly cautious yellow 
to see the perfect shade of red

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Echo

Your tongue
suspiciously
spoke of constellations,
an unlicked sky gripping secrets
nonetheless, that mouth spat it's majesty
without ever stirring the air 
proving no white stardust
really adorns
your tongue

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

At Least I Twinkle, Tonight

I feel like a star
cast amongst this ambiguousness
of sky
and I'm hanging on
to vacant air

as all the saplings
and gawkers
slurp on lattes
and wish upon my misery

alas, when one of those whims
chooses to make itself
come true,
I'll shoot like a meteor

into nothing

but a tittle of dust
flickering
in someone else's dream

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Oh Fisherman

I am in stupid love,
a fish out of water
caught by a slimy worm.

Hooked by hunger
and evidently truth,
but this bowl is far too real
to swallow.

My freedom was stolen
and he just laughs
as I swim around
in ridiculous circles,
searching for a knob-less door.

My voice gurgles as I ask him,
Oh simple-minded fisherman,
why'd you go and snag me like that
and what did you keep me for?

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Contemplating Color

I don't suppose
the white hums of summer
will ever out strum the blues;

but here before me,
two colors mingle
in polite harmony-
spouting about
like versed chums
over black coffee

so why do I stand here,
all cockeyed
and bashful
in these careful shades of yellow,
mulling over red
and its poignant way 
of bruising my heart
a callous hue of indigo

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Fall Is a Brewing

Outside October perches it's little feet
upon summer's fading scenery,
replacing marigolds with mums
and swapping tiki torches
for dimly lit jack o' lanterns,
illuminating midnight
with another seasons mysterious approach

and I cannot help but wonder
if fall had a heart,
to whom would it belong
(a fallen leaf,
the moon's cycloptic eye,
or perhaps someone of human descent)

an owl gazing restlessly
at the cool, autumn sky
seems to be interrogating God
with the same, single question
who, who, who

but no one answers

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Efflorescence

Momma says I've got a poet's heartache
that I dally 
among the gardens of malady
where briery thorns
nip at their own flimsy petals
and all the virile plants want to heal me,
but I'm saving myself
for some wild haired rose
who's only going to tear
my flowering heart........................apart

Daddy says I'm a rare bloom
with tender palms
and a golden stem,
in poetry I search for words
to bury my core within,
a tough little root
who beholds a mystical pen
that drips love for a man 
she believes exists 
somewhere between the lines
of her own making

But my loves,
I'm just a lonely pot
trying to fill blank space
with a poetic soil
so these veins will grow
into a substantial blossom
worth savoring
by thou gardeners
who give sun to thy soul
and a pause in time 
worth reflecting
off the ground
of God's jaw dropping scenery

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

It's No Poppy Field

Love is not
for the weak-hearted
who fall
at the slightest gust of charm

no, it is not a fairy-tale
containing nothing but words 
of white horses
and happy endings

Sometimes, love wears thorns
and cleverly hides itself
behind the gesture of a rose
or worse yet
a man with no flowers at all

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Metaphoric Whirlwind

I am offended 
by your metaphors,
they're vindictive
the way they dangle themselves 
above my heartstrings,
periodically plucking
when one gets tangled in the wind

they just hang there
like an untame pennon
waiting to flap
for blatant recognition

my, how you crave those squalls
with such ravenous gluttony,
gnawing at the pellucid air
as though it were chewable

Details | Melissa Wadkins Patterson Poem

Bare-Boned

There's something about the air in Fall,
it begets this chill inside
that longs to snuggle up with my pen

Summer is veering left
and I imagine myself rooted to the scenery,
a weeping willow
who sheds her sins
with a quick shake of the wind-
lest I peer down to find my own foliage
has settled with time, 
think of all those secrets left unturned