I met my wife through her son. He wanted to become a police officer, and through my profile, he knew I was one. We conversed through email for quite some time as I explained the steps he had to go through. Soon, email proved to be too slow. Once we switched to the telephone, it was inevitable that Sandy would answer occasionally when I called, and we would chat. The rest, as they say, is history; and contrary to what my brother-in-law says, she did not find me on eBay.

My son-in-law later honored me by asking me to be in his wedding party. At the reception, I made a toast about the strength of the attachment between him and his wife, because their souls were a perfect match. I have since pondered on that toast, thinking that perhaps I stumbled on a great truth. This morning, I picked up my quill and placed those thoughts on paper. Soul Mates is the result.

by Mike Patrick

Flickr image by bedielsandco

Few know it’s true—the shape of souls,
Are never smooth and round.
Sometimes they can be jagged,
Or in a spiral, tightly wound.

There may be bumps and holes
From that place where chaos rules.
Perhaps it can be best explained
By revolving genetic pools.

When two souls are blended
Through love, on a human plain,
They always roughly seem to fit,
Through methods quite arcane.

The looser that the souls combine,
More strife, through life, is faced.
Much more work will be involved
For a marriage to be graced.

Only once in every hundred years,
Against galactic, random odds,
A perfect match is truly made
And sanctified by gods.

And so it came to be with us;
A disturbance, know as fate,
Together placed me with you:
My absolute soul mate.

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6 Responses to SOUL MATES

  1. Luke Prater says:

    highly romantic, or is that a bit flippant? Soul mates… when I meet mine I’ll let you know if I agree with you 🙂

    • Mike Patrick says:

      Not flippant, Luke, I’m a hopeless romantic. I enjoyed a visit to your blog. Very creative use of meter in your “invented” poetry form. I’ll keep checking back to see what else you come up with.

      Luke, I inadvertently deleted your other post explaining your new blog site. I place it here: for those who would like to check out Luke’s excellent site. It is still easier to click on his photograph and follow the link listed there. Sorry about my clicking the delete button too quickly.

  2. Woo says:

    Wonderful, Mike! I generally HATE rhyming poetry, as it seems pretentious and forced, but this seems natural and artful. The flow is wonderful, and does not seem at all forced. Very impressive!

    • Mike Patrick says:

      Thank you, Woo (see, rhyming is not very hard). When you do rhyme, you use it with style.

      I find such a feeling of accomplishment when all the iambs or trochee come out right (harder forms defeat me), but is so time consuming. In Soul Mate, the line, “By revolving genetic pools,” grates on me every time I read it. It is just wrong, but in attempting to tinker with it for over an hour, I could not come up with anything better. Someday I will figure it out and a correction will be made.

      I just love the rhythm of a rhyming poem. I imagine that is why I enjoy the reading of sonnets so much. The reading is easy, but the writing is a bear. Still, there is that feeling of accomplishment . . . .

  3. Michelle Dee says:

    I’m hardly what you would call a “romantic” anymore- However I still believe in “soul mates” in some form. Like Woo and I. I don’t believe we were some cosmic plan put into action, But we do have jagged edges and nooks and crannies the other one highly compliments.

    I particularly appreciate this part

    The looser that the souls combine,
    More strife, through life, is faced.
    Much more work will be involved
    For a marriage to be graced.

    For recently I have seen the coming together of our “souls” and things have indeed become better with less strife.

    • Mike Patrick says:

      You and Woo appear to be a good team. For me, it was the matter of finding someone who would/could put up with me. Maybe I’ve mellowed with age . . . fine wine I’m not.

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