Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"



Choice of Focus

Her life
Has been one full of warm embraces
Friendly faces
Untied shoe laces
Dragging through the dirt.
Her time
Has been spent in merry-making
Grateful resting, groggy waking
Reckless risk-taking
So much beyond her hurt.

– s. Clark


How beautiful! A girl who shares her heart.
Our God set her apart
To be a force when other souls will fall.
He tuned her to His call,
She dances to it like her favorite song,
And, smiling, sings along.
She is a trumpet, hailing to the King,
Her spirit echoing.
How rarely has a soul been set so free!
So may it never be
Imprisoned behind bars of hurt or fear.
Sing on! Laugh on, my dear!

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Hunting Happiness – 1

Happy People

Happy people!
God, I love them.
Truly diamonds in the rough,
for it’s rair as summer snowfall
to have joy when life is tough.
I’ve seen too much
of frustration,
it is everywhere you turn.
To find joy within the battle
is a true challenge to learn.
I thank God
for happy people,
fresh air through the musted mind.
Those who search out
ways to smile,
are the best that you will find.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Fighting for Light – 2

Of Happiness Lasting

The beauty of a joyous day
Cannot be marred by hateful whim
Or sorrowed words, or thoughts of gray
They shatter at the song within
And beaten, must to shrink away
To someday later, try again

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Innocence – 2

Small Things

All he wants, in all the world,
A glass of sweet iced-tea.
To see the butterfly. To curl
Into a ball, beneath
A warm and comfy cover.
And chicken-noodle soup
To sip. And sleep. No other
Thing is needed for his drooping
Eyes and tired little limbs.
All he wants,
Is small things, close to him.

– s. Clark

In This Moment

She is happy
With her twinkling Christmas lights
And her candles
Lighting up the frosty nights
Fuzzy blankets
Soft and snuggly in her bed
Apple cider
Cinnamon goes to her head
She is happy

– s. Clark

The beauty of a joyous day
Cannot be marred by hateful whim,
Or sorrowed words, or thoughts of gray,
They shatter at the song within.
And, beaten, must to shrink away
To someday later try again.

– s. Clark

Two Birds

The sky is stone, the sky is steel
The sky cannot be broken
The wood is dark, and filled with words
That do not dare be spoken

The eagle flies and beats her wings
Against the azure armor
The nightingale looks up and sings
Beneath the trees that harm her

Within the waves of crystal blue
The eagle drowns, still flying
And under folds of quashing green
A croaking song is dying

But Freedom won’t be chained to earth,
Her wings are steel and stronger
And Joy, though wounded, sings her worth
To all those who would wrong her

The sky will crack, the darkness die,
The earth itself is roaring
Beneath unconquerable will,
Two birds, singing and soaring.

– s. Clark

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