Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"



God’s Beauty – 4

Memory of Trees

In lush of green the leaves would sway.
The beauty of an endless day,
and laughter rang beneath the trees
That watched us run and scrape our knees.
In times gone by, the world was small,
Yet each hill steep, and counter tall,
And these were sweeter, simpler days
Where sun shines down and green tree sways.

Now through this tangled weave of years
Is left a trail of love and tears.
Its sweetness, in its way divine,
Is marred by hurtful stains of time.
But would we trade the pain of strife
For sorrow of an untouched life?
Or forfeit wisdom, winter seas,
And memory of swaying trees?

– s. Clark


The extroverted soul knows not
The quiet contemplation
That flows like fresh air through the mind,
Gives rancor ventilation.
It cannot know the calming tilt
Of stillness in the spirit.
The silent song that nature sings,
The tranquil souls can hear it.
We mark the passing of the leaves,
And grandeur of the ocean,
Breathe deep the scent of all the earth,
And bathe in its emotion.
Our raucous moments bring us joy,
And what is life without them?
But those who who heed their peaceful thoughts
Know we are lost without them.

– s. Clark

Thankful Heart

(I have written this piece in response to a request I received for a “poem of thanks” to celebrate the imminent Thanksgiving holiday. If you would like to submit a prompt, message me, and I will do my best to fill it!)

It ever is the simple thing,
The shining sun or roaring waves,
That marks a memory on our souls,
That silently and softly saves.
It is the child’s gleeful voice,
The soothing touch of friendship’s hand,
That lift us up from sorrow’s grip
And keep us walking through this land.
They are the small and happy times,
The praise that’s spoken, bold and real,
The laughter snatched by a quick wit,
The moments that we thrill to feel.
Within this world so wide and raw,
That can be filled with so much pain,
There is wonder and beauty here
That far outweighs the cost with gain.
The mountains raised to cleave the clouds,
Or bright and yawning fields of green,
The wood in winter, crisp and clear,
The countless hues of sky we’ve seen!
A steaming mug of cider, and
Food on the table, piping hot.
A fire in the chill of night,
A peaceful moment gently caught.
Your family close by your side,
Made up of those who give their care
Unthinking if it may return.
A place to live, a heart to share.
And though the grime of life will pull
Like quicksand, sinking you to death,
There is a hand that reaches passed
The darkness there to bring you breath.
And for these things, the rain of gifts
That shower on us from the start,
I fear I have but one return,
To offer up a thankful heart.

– 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.

A Moment Held

I withdrew to a quiet place,
That’s all it was, just to be still,
And let the sun fall on my face,
And listen to the robin trill.
I knelt upon the silent grass
To feel the breeze brush slowly by,
To let the hour softly pass,
And watch the turning of the sky.
But there were voices at the door
To call me back into the din
And take offense, should I implore
That, just now, I would not come in,
And would be as I was before
With just a moment to hold in.

– s. Clark

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