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Poetic Utterings

Life can be a bitter brew, but not as bold or strong as you.

Category

Narrative Poetry

Poetry Night

Poetry Night

Faerie Girl

Faerie Girl

Theme Week: Heroes – 2

Lighthouse

He saw her in calm waters,
Sailing peaceful on the sea.
He marveled at the beauty
In the way her heart was free.
She sang into the breeze, and
Pulled with fervor at her sail,
She smiled into sunlight
And left laughter in her trail.
He saw her when the storm came,
And the waves threw her about,
She tried to steer to safety,
But could not find her way out.
The wind rushed, loud and heavy,
And the rain came crashing down,
She sailed on, stern and driven,
But he feared that she would drown.
He loved her in the darkness,
As he’d loved her in the light,
And burned to watch her struggle
All alone within the night.
And so he drove his heart down
Into truth, like stakes in stone,
And lit himself with strength, so
She could always see it shown.
He would not see her anchored
By the tempest, so he swore
That he would be her lighthouse
Standing steady on the shore.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: People Watching – 2

Resolutioner

She stood like an island
Large, and isolated in an unfamiliar place.
Her skin rippled like waves
As she heavy-hoisted up an iron bar
With black ends printed in white: “15lbs”.
Sweat poured from her head like rain,
And her arms flapped as they pumped the weights.
A sky-blue shirt stretched over her rolls ordered,
“Just do it.” And she did,
Unheeding and uncaring of the glances.
She warmly returned my smile, ah the sun,
Essential to any growing life.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: People-Watching – 1

Vanity

He was the type of guy
who knew how handsome he was,
and acted like it.
Self-satisfied smirk on a chiseled jaw,
dismissive side-glance from ocean-blue eyes.
He oozed false charm like syrup,
and made the room feel sticky.
Scratching the careful stubble on his chin,
he surveyed his arena.
One girl caught his eye and smiled warmly,
he chuckled, and kept searching.
Paused, swooping down
on a lovely brunette in the corner.
He asked what she was working on
and listened for a moment,
before spinning the world back to its orbit
and revealing his archive of achievements.
And perhaps he was honest,
in word, if not manner.
When she left, he took a moment
then slipped across the room,
striking up the same conversation
with a different girl,
who had not seen the first.
And the girl who smiled stood,
chuckled in her own turn,
and threw away the trash he left behind
for someone lesser to clean,
as the second target stood
and said goodbye.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Christmas – 1

I know that I am so late in posting this, I got caught up in the holidays! I hope you can all forgive me, and that you are having amazing holidays of your own. Love you, my dears, thank you for reading!

This poem “Christmas” is a VERY non-traditional Christmas poem, meant to speak to the reason for the season. I hope you still enjoy!

 

The air tastes sharply of iron
As the dust is tainted red
Frantic shouts across the valley
Rise in notes of mounting dread.
For though we may fight with fervor,
We have met a fearsome foe
Creatures, jagged, black, and snarling,
Tearing through us row by row.

Not a man has stood before them,
They have slain both swift and strong.
In the hundreds we have fallen
To the fury of their song.
For the song was one of darkness,
Draining all our will to stand,
And it soaked into the soil
Like a poison in the land.

Now we pause, bloody and broken,
Some have quit their post and flown,
And the brave are few in number,
While their ranks have only grown.
Faces turn to watch the castle,
Voices cry out for the King.
But with all the length between us,
Who could hear our suffering?

All our swords have fallen heavy,
Trembling, we cower back,
As the monsters roar and cackle,
Setting for the last attack.
Then a shout upon the hillside
Draws our eyes across the land,
Silhouetted by the sunset
Is the figure of a man.

He lifts up his sword, defiant,
Hulking shadow, edged in light,
And he spurs his stead to gallop,
Charging down into the fight.
Raise your heads and see, my brothers,
Shrink away in fear no more,
For we have not been abandoned,
And the King’s son comes to war!

– s. Clark

Hunted

He ran,
Liquid panic in his veins,
He sucked in air that burned his chest,
And blew it out in frantic gasps
His limbs pumped,
Working far too hard
To carry him so sluggishly.
The Creature roared behind,
Its footsteps beating
In time with his rapid heart,
And his feet so heavy
He could feel it gaining,
Reeling him in,
A thrashing fish, hooked through the gut.
Snarling, hot breath on his neck.
Sweat dripped in his eyes,
Why was he so slow?
The soil was sand,
And the forest collapsed around him,
Folding into darkness.
He ran and ran, and did not move,
While the Creature’s laughter
Filled his ears and mind,
And darkness took him.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Selfless – 2

Death swept a crooked eye across the earth
And chuckled, puffing fumes of acrid smoke,
To see that all within the world of worth
Was under his domain, since he awoke
From one man’s broken bond, in savage birth.

Then fell upon the land a blinding light
That formed into the figure of a man.
He marched toward Death, his presence scorched the night,
He gripped a golden scepter in his hand,
And walked in robes of rich and flawless white.

Death shuddered to behold the Maker come,
Who never stooped to walk so low before.
“What do you want with me, Creator’s son?
I reap what is my right to take, no more.
Man’s days are mine, and I will not succumb!”

The ground protested with a mighty groan,
When light stretched out and laid his scepter down,
“I have forgone the power of my throne.
Relinquishing the glory of my crown,
I come to buy man’s life back with my own.”

Death drew back, for he knew the soul within
Worth all the soiled lives in his expanse,
But still he raised his sickly hand and grinned.
For how could such as he deny the chance
To see the son of God bow down to him?

Then, clasping hands, Death met his burning eyes,
While earth and air around them cracked and crashed!
Both screamed in anguish, and Death realized
His fatal error, as he sank to ash,
For meeting light, the shadow always dies.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Love – 1

Building Bridges

They built them with their happy sighs
And whispers under sheets
They built them out of reaching hands
And snow-brushed winter streets
They built them over angry words
And over river tears,
They threaded wire memories
To string across their fears.
She stacked hope stones with shaking hands
And eyelids sneaking looks,
He poured concrete encouragement
And bought blueprints with books.
They built them over years of time,
Through life, with all its ridges,
And crossed to reach each other’s souls
Two lovers, building bridges

– s. Clark

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