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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

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woman

Nature’s Beauty

Today we’re doing a re-run from a couple weeks ago because THERE WAS A TYPO AND I DIDN’T NOTICE, YOU GUYS SOMEONE TELL ME NEXT TIME. XD

Nature's Beauty

The Dragon

The Dragon

Rooted.

My friends, I know I’ve been a while. Thank you for your patience. New poems are coming. Here’s the first!

Rooted

Theme Week: Valentine – 2

Missing Piece

She was beautiful.
The way her hair twisted
and fell across rose-stained cheeks,
like soft, dark smoke, curling
over a pale, spring morning.
Her lips were pink and parted
in an invitation.
The way she hid her eyes halfway
beneath blushful, batting lashes
and sang her words like a lullaby.
She moved like the wind,
alternatingly cool and coy.
And he thought, as he watched her,
as we all hope to, in our time,
that this was perhaps the missing piece
of him, come home at last to rest.

– s. Clark

Joy

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

Grit, Grime, and Grace

She learned, at some surprise point,
That pearl earrings and blistered feet,
Strong, sure hands and soft, small touch,
Mud-splattered mornings and rouge-tinted nights
Did not have to be mutually exclusive.
She learned, all at once but gently,
Like awakening from a heavy sleep,
That beauty and strength – grit, grime, and grace –
Could live together in one entity,
Like burning fire in the dark of space,
Or rain and lightening in a storm.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Loving Yourself – 1

Stranger in the Mirror

Who is this woman, this stranger I see?
She stands in the place where I’d usually be.
This glass must be broken, this image is strange
It almost looks like me, but subtly changed.
It’s not quite the face, or the hair, or the style;
A bitter-sweet tilt has crept into her smile.
She has all my features, my lighthearted air,
But something is missing, and something is there.
I once knew a woman who shared the same face,
And she used to stand in that very same space.
But, back then she was still a child, and now
Her soul, though its salted, is better somehow.
With a gleam in her eye, and strength in her stand
A powerful will, and a dream in her hand.
She no longer looks to be scared, or unsure,
Expressions I had often seen there before.
Maybe she’s missing the twinkle that came
With an untroubled heart she can no longer claim.
But though I may miss her, it doesn’t appear
That this one is lacking what made her so dear.
She still has my eyes, which shine hopeful and true,
And she still seems to have some more growing to do.
But now, she seems like she could conquer the world,
This woman who no longer looks like a girl.

– s. Clark

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