Hyperpat\’s HyperDay

SF, science, and daily living

Pat’s Poetry


Playing with my soldiers, trucks, and cars
In the middle of the afternoon
Purchased with box tops, pennies from my jar
She’d said I shouldn’t spend so much
Other things I’d want later, more
She was just my mother, I didn’t hear

Playing with my trucks and cars, alone
no friends to share. She wasn’t home
She’d been gone for weeks, where unknown
Still I smashed car into truck
clapped and laughed at the wreck
turned and set the soldiers to fire

Heard my brothers outdoors, firing BB’s
Blasting, rattling old tins, passing time
Didn’t want me near, wouldn’t tell me
anything, too little, too soft, too young
I’d seen no tears, she’d hid her fears
Left my world bright and clear, untouched

Dusty car on our road of gravel and clay
I dropped my toys and out the window stared
Curious – not many strayed this way
Thinking maybe she’d come back, come home
It turned and stopped at our front door
Watched father, strangers, exit, dressed for church

I ran out to greet, but he didn’t meet
my look, called inside my brothers, left me out
I listened to birds and crickets, felt the heat
Slid my fingers on the dusty car
Chased a butterfly, looked with envy
at abandoned guns, marched back in

Quiet, all stood, heads down, hands tucked
Brothers pale and staring at the floor
littered with my cars and soldiers and trucks
Father whispered, “She’s gone, son”, turned away
And I knew, then, I did want something more
than trucks and cars and soldiers

Stray Cookies

Cookie, cookie, can I have a cookie?
Plaintive plea of pretty perky pixie
Tin lid lifted, one only sitting lonely
Quickly snatched and stuffed, grinning greedy

Sighs and whys for all the thoughtless lies
Follow mama’s gaze as out the door she flies
Wondering how just one more she can buy
Midst the broken ties and love gone dry

Once they teamed in dreams and schemes
Dancing deftly over life’s streams and steams
Now bills, no skills, set looming late-night screams
Breakup’s trouble and rubble stacked in legal reams

Absent other fills unbidden stray
moments of memories, wishing they
Three again could be, till her child’s gay
laughter stills the pain for one more day


I sense the wired unrest
inside the quiet voice and harsh control
Deliberate decision, constant test
Drone of backward clock tick,
grinding taut flayed nerve

Last tick, ignition spark
A blossom fire, a black of smoke
Hesitant lift,
sudden lark
Embroiled in sound hard high
catching eye, ear, throat

A sigh, a smoke, relax –
My last to watch, control, the flying thought of man.
They say they will not pay the tax;
More important things than dreams
of my heart, mind, soul

My Gypsy

Ask the layered fog that cloaks in stealth
Wreathing round, inside, old legend’s milk
Blurring life from right, death from night
Blinding eyes and souls, tearing mythic
Walls from sight, obscuring rents and scars
Marshmallow muffles her cry that chars

Wanting nothing of common tales, my
Body lilts with heroic fables
That slip down centuries, spiral past
Imagery to old wives wisdom, fade
Near the boundary of real and dark
Coursed in her veins, provided her spark

Once she spun with glittering tarot
Soft as death she glides through my stories
Kept far distant from today’s alarm
I still hear the fog, achingly warm


Glittered dapple glows on soft brown
Wild extravagant purple reaches wide
Skittering claws chase round behind
Raucous rilling trill echoes down
Old, old settles in long afternoon, satisfied


High winds wash
the stink of fly-drenched bodies
skim over
homes and playgrounds
transformed to cratered graves

At distance
White-haired men of words and smiles
draw cold lines
on colored maps
devoid of depressed circles

Hard-faced men
move grimed artillery
along lines
to blast more holes
invisible on flat drawings

After the Celebration

The gifts are all unwrapped
The credit cards are fully tapped
The tree still blinks and sparkles
But daddy may have lost his marbles

The television has been kidnapped
By kids with no time for naps
Mesmerized by video games of action
With blistering graphics requiring parental sanction

It seems sometimes the story has been lost
In all the glitz and hang the cost
But then daddy gets a hug and kiss
And knows it hasn’t all been missed


Warm and friendly fire
Comforts after daily trial
Watching flickers while
Clasping hands and nodding, smile

Dragon’s tongues so dire
Leap from flame to tiring mind
Pausing just behind
Eyes so close, of just my kind

Lost Road

Lies are all that can be said
Hope is gone and all are maimed
Babies cry and moms don’t hear
Ignorance is left untamed

Hear the shadows creep

Love is gone, replaced by sex
Cowards hailed as best of breed
Leaders hide behind the front
Songs extol the demon seed

Feel the ebon deep

Books and daffodils are banned
Reason, logic, called absurd
Art is random colored splash
Hearts are shut, unheard

Darkness inward leaps

Slow Blue

Corrugated azure light
Scintillates and strolls
Pokes through eyes

Tripping twisting turning sphere
Glows ethereal
Rippling pries

Weaving waving wanting limbs
Grounded stretching out
Reaching ties

Our Almost Grown

They hang in malls, dress with latest fad
No thought for consequence, parents beyond their ken
Both school and admonitions, equally pass their heads
The merest hint from friends, word of God, so rad

Telephones and video games, beer and sex (almost)
Their fear is ‘grounded’, happiness is Saturday with keys
We see the younger child, glimpse their destiny
We love all we can, and just a little, boast

The Argument

Column rigid, ruler lips
Standing distant, clenching fists
Wordless frigid, flashing eyes
Straining muscles, voiceless cry

Turning tightly, facing wrath
Speaking loudly, find no path
Hearing nothing, closing ears
Lasting damage, start of fear

Softer talking, catch my rose
Tiny shifting, downcast pose
Pleading tensely, listen now
Seeing lovely melting brow

Step a little, reach, touch
Holding lightly, trembling such
Dusting dampness, almost smile
Now embracing, love’s small trial

No Miracle

Bright August seers beyond my window
bringing vibrant visions living
towards my blank eyes
I do not see the visions

White walls and white sheets, white smells
surround me, inside an eggshell
Wishing for strength to crack and break
I am a broken stick

Red memory of yesterday’s screams
permeates my dreams and fills my sight
with needles and knives, ears confused
by orders, grunts, and shouts

Cries! Cries! I heard from blustering pink
Exhausted, elated, I
stared and reached, held and touched
momentary miracle

Till sudden cough and cobalt blue,
mad rushing straining panic ripped
my touch, left empty silence cold
on my heaving breast

Drugged numbed sleep can’t find a reason
God, luck, and fate had their season
My Why’s subsided, grief blockaded, walled
inside, life’s drive mauled

I’m waiting for the fall

The Wedding

come together, this moment
in their minds
lighting all their further years

flowers, ceremonious
cement this time
holds their hearts and dreams

of love and duty, simple
from each to each
Symbols for supreme feelings, now
and ever

All works on this page ©1965, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2003 by Patrick Shepherd


One Response to “Pat’s Poetry”

  1. Rik Ty said

    Beautiful work.

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