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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

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relationships

Theme Week: Valentine – 3

They Are Beautiful

They are beautiful.
the way he looks at her,
like he can’t believe she sits there,
real, and raw, and regal before him.
He grips her hand like a lifeline,
and she traces her fingers down his arm
like a map back to shore.
They keep inching toward each other,
entangling further and further across the table,
hearts barely held apart by separate bodies.
He is her world,
and she is the universe through which he spins,
madly, wildly, flying,
but tethered in orbit
by the assurance of her hold.
They exist in their own space,
rolling through the void,
infinitesimal as dust, immense as galaxies,
and they are beautiful.

– s. Clark

Over-Sold

Your beauty always caught me
But I’ve been caught
One too many times
And I’ve always loved poetry
But I’ve written
One too many rhymes
And I talked to the moon,
He said he’s tired of looking down
On star-crossed lovers
Maybe I’m giving in too soon
But I forgot the way to know
We knew each other.

I’ll somehow always love you
But I’ve learned now
“Love” means many things
And one of those is feeling
But those feelings
Don’t mean anything
And I spoke with the sea,
She said she’s not as wide or deep
As we once thought her
There are things that do not come free
And we thought love was cheaper
Back when we first bought her.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Love – 4

On and On

I will love you in the morning,
I will love you through the night.
I will love you in the darkness
when you’re overcome with fright.
Through the maze of twisting pathways,
And when all the signs are gone,
I will love you through forever,
I will love you on and on.

– 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

Patchwork Past

You are sewn into my life now,
Quilted patch, part of the whole.
Whether I may love or hate it,
You’re imprinted on my soul.

– s. Clark

Happiness Conflicted

With all I learned from knowing you,
I’m happy that we met.
With all the pain of loving you,
I’m happy to forget.

– s. Clark

Strung Out

He strung her heart all out
And plucked it like a harp
He tried to soothe her strings,
But played the notes too sharp.

– s. Clark

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

Theme Week: Nature Personified – 2

The Oak and the Willow

The Willow grew, first up, then down
And hung her head in sadness
Her arms allowed no sunlight in,
Shut out potential gladness.
But she sent roots into the earth
To reach the cleansing water,
For if you can’t be glad, be deep,
That is what life had taught her.

The Oak grew strong, and wide, and high,
He stretched his limbs out, dreaming
Of sky, and growth, and summer days
Beneath the sunlight, gleaming.
His branches sheltered picnic meals
And children at their games,
He caught their frisbees, gave them shade,
And learned all of their names.

The Oak reached for the Willow’s arms
To lift her sorrowed spirit,
He whispered word of love and light,
And prayed that she could hear it.
The Willow feared to bare her face,
But sent her roots beneath him.
For though her arms were weak and frail,
Perhaps her soul could reach him.

At last he reached so far, that when
A courage-wind came sweeping,
Her arms rose up to twist with his
And ended all her weeping.
She taught him how to dig down deep
And draw from hidden streams.
And, leaning on each other’s strength,
They grew to reach their dreams.

– s. Clark

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