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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

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wonder

God’s Beauty – 2

Wonder

She perched upon the cliff’s pointed edge
Staring down into a concave world
With mounds of mighty stone
Interspersed across its cratered face
Mountains, punching up from the river cut floor
Lifting in layers to crest, flat-topped,
And sigh back, dipping heat-baked toes
Into the icy riverbed.
Under her feet, a path of grass spread down
Along the cliffside in zig-zag trails,Growing into a carpet of green trees
That rolled out in a line and dropped
Into the canyon crags.
Majesty, miles from her fingertips.

He laid back on the cliff’s flattened top
Gazing up into an endless sky
With speckled spots of light
Pricking points across its midnight face
Nothingness, punctured by burning bits of life,
Stretching beyond breadth of breath or sight
And expands still, sending whispered echoes
Into the inky void.
From his eyes, a stream of light reflected upward
Into the openness, took in the moon,
Dissolving into a stream of his own starlight
And mixing with the dust
Of other, foreign worlds.
Luminescence, lightyears from his reaching hands.

And both wondered,
Not for the first time,
Just how
small
they were.

– 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

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

Touch of Harmony

Just a touch of harmony,
A river through my skin!
I feel it like the swelling sea,
Cascading from my soul.
A rushing, thrushing waterfall,
My spirit drinks it in!
It breaks the bittered cynic wall,
It surges to console.

Like color bursting in the mind,
That flows in painted streams
And twists to blend, their hues entwined,
Mosaic mix of light!
Oh what intoxicating voice
That sizzles in my seams,
That lets the battered heart rejoice
Like stars within the night!

– s. Clark

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