4 Poems by Pat Phillips West

Firsts and Nevers
for WDW
By Pat Philips West

The man who first called her princess
never saw her float down the stairs
on prom night
The man who celebrated her
every achievement
never read her college acceptance letter
honors at entrance
The man who taught her to drive
never saw her first car
The man who taught her to laugh
never had a chance to hear
her humor become like his own
The man who applauded her
first and loudest
never had the opportunity to attend
her staring roles
The man who loved her first
never met her first love
The man who kissed away her
first tear
never imagined
her deepest sorrow


By Pat Philips West

At the department store, I hesitate
Should I?
Yes, I say, it will feel wonderful
. . . for a moment
Later, I know
it will hurt like hell
I opt for that moment,
step to the men’s cologne counter
I smell your skin
I see your face
I fill to overflowing
Eyes closed
I feel your breath
Oh, to have you again


From the Moon to the Stars
for WDW
By Pat Philips West

The luminous full moon
glints across the patio
I raise my wine glass
A toast to our daughter

What an actor!
How she mesmerized
the audience tonight

How far she’s come
from those little girl
Saturday afternoons

How she made the tickets
wrote the script
rehearsed for hours
then presented her
solo productions

How she made you pay
a real dime
to see the show
after I handed her
the bouquet of flowers
did you see our star
when I gave her
the single
red rose
in memory
of you?


By Pat Philips West

A breeze stirs the leaves
Paths wind and circle
One seems to go forever
That’s what you said,
that you would love me forever
But whose forever?
I never questioned then
I believed our forevers matched
Pine and spruce; scent and sap
Trees stand tall, dense surrounds me
Needles spread a silent mat
Footsteps go quiet into the thicket
I said, till death do us part
But when I did, I never thought . . .
Who does on their wedding day?
It’s a vow, a promise
I enter a clearing, a circular stage
bathed in sunlight.
White beams
pierce down
I used to think them Heaven sent
I don’t believe any more
A cloud blocks the sun
and woods grow dark
A breeze rustles and chills
It knows my heart

Pat Phillips West is a former hospital administrator who has turned to writing poetry and memoir. She lives and writes in Carson City, Nevada.

After the premature deaths of two of her sisters, one brother and her husband, she discovered the healing power of pen put to paper.

Her publishing house, PJW Publishing, was developed to create niche market greeting cards for terminal patients.

Her work has been published in Labyrinth: Poems and Prose, The Broward, and appeared in the eZine, FZQ Poetry.


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