by Patrice D'Ambra Burdette --Pataliyah
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Recent poems by Patrice D'Ambra Burdette --Pataliyah
the way of light
On The Field Which They Reap
This Is All
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Embrace: The green gate we enter.
We name it embrace
this blasting of our insular track of being--
the convergence of two random
points on a plane
like beads trucking down a cosmic curve
to reach at last
the end of their infinite and solitary whirring
A gaze that meets, bores inward
that which you look up and capture
in the lens-box of your brain,
behind your knowing
that precise moment (too terrible)
the beginning, middle, end
of each click further in
You nod, regarding the people
out for a stroll,
passing into forever, every delineative step
the sweet repository of days collected,
Days of Awe
Days of Desolation
I pour, I pour...
Thou--my ritual of breath,
I swallow in gobbets insatiable
as your pour back into me,
our fingers entwine
as newly spittled eyes first seeing,
cleave to every grain
of this touchstone,
filament of a true , entirely credible
This: skin in skin
I watch for your form
silent in my corner,
peer tremulous and child-like
marvel at the steady invasion
of this membrane round
with the stuff of you
For such is the manner of your blessedness:
secretive incendiary boon -dunamis incarnate
clanging silver anvils behind my eyes
of something cool and sweet on my tongue
to lap and dissolve
of our patterned bliss
Escapes my reason
as if I had ever known enough
as If I could ever say
I now have all I desire
Give me no more nights
this savage opulence, lavish as honey
palpable as its slow glide from my chin
No, no more
dawn-thunder slow rumble
I shall wonder then,
as if I could not have known,
nor had further need
of a request
this one last, my love
simply new eyes for glutting
a new creed to intone.
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|Reviewed by richard cederberg
|Pataliyah . . .
Once again you have touched a sensitive nerve. I believe there is a sinister danger, though, associated with becoming too introspective in our passionate pursuits.
Estrangement from the very source that feeds us!
There is an inescapable and humorous irony associated with pursuing authorship and poetry. One must be deeply introspective to reveal the gift, ferociously disciplined to develop the gift, diligent and fearless to display the gift, and forever hopeful that upon the revealing, there is understanding and acceptance.
"To lap and dissolve the elegance of our patterned bliss" is at once painfully obvious and also hopelessly cryptic.
You have created a mysterioius bridge I believe, as a poet, that illuminates the mysteries of staid physical love and spiritual enlightenment, and most importantly the heartrending cries of bringing the two into some form of symbiotic fulfillment.
As always your work is captivating and I come away feeling nourished!
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Mesmerizing poetry, Patrice. Thank you for sharing your gift. Love and peace to you,
|Reviewed by William DeVault
|wonderous in its spiritual and emotional content, it flows, it sings. it is poetry. I am charmed.|