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Patrice D'Ambra Burdette --Pataliyah

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by Patrice D'Ambra Burdette --Pataliyah
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
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Recent poems by Patrice D'Ambra Burdette --Pataliyah
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How is it
They crave
The dance of my desire,
loathe the need they find
Always at the edge, the underside
Of my whisper,
As their souls bore
Up into me & bid me
Carry them off

This mystique they seek
In places damp & dim,
Is nothing but cataracts
Sliding over their eyes.


(For I have seen how
They come alive
at the tips of me,
& Leave the rest to rot
On the vine)


But what of mine that is mystery,
Or that of any other could remain
In such a place?
(Many will write words in dust,
I am sure of this now...
but it was there, in earth,
You wrote closest to the heart of Woman)
Your light strips all
But our eyes~
The color of Magdala.

Though they all look away~


How often they have come
To the edge of my bed:
Jew, Roman, Greek...
their so-called honor, self-imposed
& Invented
A word they use
In the place of pride,
Curled & squeezing
Under their tongues
Like the phylacteries
that strangle & chafe
At the wrist & brow...Or,
Millstone of shield & spear & politic-
Always, skin shuddering with
A word
Of contrived convenience,
Held in their mouths like the
Pit of some fruit;
Rolled & sucked
From sunset to sunset...
Platitudes, positions
Packed high on the hide
Of a great used & castrated beast;
An undulating, unhurried
Fumble down this hillside

Of filthy rags.

I menstruate
Their dust
‘Til my womb
Expels the
Sand of them;
An unstoppable flow.


Though they never care
Nor ever know,

Mute as I am,
In this cacophony
I still sing well her cry:
Unclean, Unclean!


‘Woman, touch us not...’ they scurry away


For where I walk
I too, part worlds--
Sure as Moses,
any of the sons of Aaron.


So how is it,
My Dear One,
Here in this house
Where even my beauty,
My curse or ruin
Could not buy me welcome?
With stone-bald glare of breasts
Escaping unashamed,
I could crumble over feet
I've wept, wiped with hair,
& Broken open all preciousness
I keep... The heat
Of your being  liquefies
My love
‘Til it finds your face,
Runs down your beard,
I swab with softness~
The music of its
Invading every room
In the history of man's desiring;
& Beyond, even to the caverns of Sheol.


& Know there,
As your mother knew~
In your eyes
I see for myself
The moment
Pillar of cloud reverses
To turn swirls
Back on itself;
Ignites, by night, as fire
Unknowable to the mere bleats of men, 

Or the unstoppable flow
Of my heart.





(id.) Occurs only twice in the New Testament (Mark 10:51, A.V., "Lord," R.V.,
"Rabboni;" John 20:16).    It was the most honourable of all the titles.

Of Aramaic origin, the word is roughly translated, Great or Dear Teacher.



a tower, a town in Galilee, mentioned only in Matthew 15:39. In the parallel passage in Mark 8:10 this place is called Dalmanutha. It was the birthplace of Mary called the Magdalen, or Mary Magdalene. It was on the west shore of the Lake of Tiberias, and is now probably the small obscure village called el-Mejdel, about 3 miles north-west of Tiberias. In the Talmud this city is called "the city of colour," and a particular district of it was called "the tower of dyers." The indigo plant was much cultivated here.


Either of two small leather boxes, each containing strips of parchment inscribed with quotations from the Hebrew Scriptures, one of which is strapped to the forehead and the other to the left arm.

All rights reserved, © Pataliyah. Copying without permission for non-personal use is forbidden.

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Reviewed by Ch'erie de Perrot
They Shray out a gnat, but swallow a camel!
Excellent write
Reviewed by jude forese
outstanding creation ... excellent imagery, style and passion ...
Reviewed by E T Waldron
Remarkable work!Thank you for sharing. It is humbling!

Reviewed by Peter Paton

A great poem with Biblical overtones throughout the vein...
I visualized the House of Bethel and Shilo in this magnificent pen...:)

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