Search

Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

Tag

lovely

Theme Week: Loving Yourself – 2

Treasure

It does not do to dwell on the ugly,
Though we all surely have it within,
The grime that we all feel inside us,
All the scars strewn out over our skin
But, you know, there must also be beauty,
Though you say that you only see dirt,
There is music and magic and moonlight
Where you feel only anger and hurt.
And I know that you look at yourself, dear,
Finding nothing worthwhile to prize,
But I have a vast secret to tell you,
If you manage to block out the lies
If I lean very close, and I whisper,
Will you heed my small voice in your ear?
If I promise to keep my words gentle,
Can you open your soul up to hear?
If I told you your heart was a treasure,
And how worthless you feel, a façade,
For the price to win your love and beauty
Was the blood and the breathe of a God
Because long before you saw the ugly,
Knew yourself deep enough to feel guilt
There were galaxies raised to enchant you,
And his love is what ordered them built.
If I told you that you are so precious
There has been a decree by the king,
That for you there be sunshine and oceans,
And flowers sent to you in spring.
You are made up of stardust, eternal,
You are stunning and strong as the earth.
Please know, when you feel unimportant,
Not a soul here can measure your worth.

– s. Clark

Favorite Things

Her favorite thing was moonbeams
And stars across the sky
But it was also Christmas lights
And homemade pumpkin pie
Wild, breathless laughter was
For sure her favorite thing,
But what could hold a candle to
The flowers in the spring?
The thing she loved the best, of course,
Was hugs from family
But nothing could be better than
A heart-strung melody
The crisp, clean air, the smell of books,
The colored leaves in fall
How could she ever choose just one
To love the most of all?

– s. Clark

Forgotten Poetry

At times I have forgot
The true splendor of poetry
That rides upon a crystal sea
And sings a silent melody,
It grips with potent mastery
The heart itself has wrought

I fear I have dismissed
Its sonorous and blissful call
That cries from unassuming scrawl
Its magic to engage, enthrall
May cause a soul to rise or fall
As it is gently kissed

– s. Clark

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑