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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

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books

Ragged Book

The old man, in his tattered cloak,
Offers knowledge of unknown wonders,
Forsaken by the shallow hordes
That pass him by.
They search for richer robes.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Magic – 1

This is long overdue, so sorry!

Books are Magic

They sat in a classroom, but she
Sat in a torchlit tavern,
Inhaling the smoke from a dancing fire
And puffing patrons alike
Sipping a rich, cider-ale,
While her left hand waved slender fingers
Over a page, capturing the words
Of the couple conspiring in the corner.

They rode on a train, but she

Rode bare-back through a sunlit wood,
Breathing the sharp, cold autumn air
And deep scent of freshly-wet earth
Drinking in the morning dew,
While her gentle, calloused fingers
Twisted in a free-flowing cherry mane
As she spurred her fierce companion on.

They flew on an airplane, but she
Flew among crystal-lit clouds,
Siphoning spectrums of color all around
And sighing streams of violet light
Soaking in the vibrant energy,
While her right hand gripped with strong fingers
The  iron hilt of a mighty sword
And her wings threw her into battle with a scream.

And no matter where she was contained,
She was never trapped,
For she brought the magic with her.

– s. Clark

In Endless Pursuit of Poetry

Though I swift and endless write,
I will never find the time,
I will never have the breath
To exhale my endless thoughts
To assuage my searching mind,
And will come at last to death
Scrawling madly still. Be caught
Startled to have lost the light.

– s. Clark

A Worn Book

See how I have been loved!
With all my edges crinkled,
How tenderly I have been frayed.
My left corner is wrinkled
From coffee she has spilled
When she could not neglect me,
Her wide-eyes, searching through my soul,
Cannot help but reflect me.
Some of my words are smudged
Upon some speckled pages,
For sharing all my loves and pains,
These tears have been her wages.
My spine is cracked and bent
In all her favorite placings,
That made her laugh, or caught her heart,
Or set her spirit racing.
My face bears faded lines
From fingers soft caressing,
My cover curls out toward the world
From all her fervent pressing.
I surely have been loved
Within her lonely hours.
She lost herself adventuring,
Enraptured by my powers.

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