C R Clark, 4 marca 2012
Thru the glass of my perception
Looking back in spans of time
Beyond all that’s in my memory
Back before grandfather’s time
Before the declaration
Made our independence real
Before the pilgrims came to Plymouth
Even before Columbus sailed
I can see them in the forests
In the valleys and the hills
Living as they had for ages
By their wits and by their wills
This land was not discovered
By explorers from abroad
But by the American Indian
Who had always called it home
Copyright: CR. Clark -7/25/07
C R Clark, 28 lutego 2012
Smiling Eyes
Looking up at me,
From the face of a thirty eight inch boy
Touching me
With magic, only love can comprehend
Questioning
And stirring mixed emotions in my soul
Can I teach him
All the things he needs to know
Or will I fail
And will he love me
Just as much when he grows up
As he does now
But, I know when I look into those smiling eyes
They don’t comprehend the meaning
In the words I have to say
But, I hope, they realize
How much I love those smiling eyes
Copyright: C R. Clark -June 28, 1981
C R Clark, 24 lutego 2012
Seems natural to me to be drawn to the wild
To get high on breathing the crystal clean air
To soar with the hawk in the clear azure sky
Or to fish in the stream with the wild grizzly bear
The wapiti grazes the verdant hillside
At home and at ease in the thin mountain air
And has never, so much as, wished on a star
To be anywhere else, in the world, but up there
And down in the valley the antelope roam
And feed on the fruits of the green, grassy lea
The Seal, the Walrus, the Penguin, and Whale
Are at home in the chill of the cold arctic sea
And down in the Amazon jungle’s midst
There, primitive people in nature survive
They live all their lives in their rainforest home
Depending on just what the forest provides
Though I’m not equipped to live life as these do
In my mind I can travel and go where I please
I can run with the Caribou, swim with the Whale
And swing on the vines in the amazon’s trees
It seems natural to me to be drawn to the wild
To treasure the bounty that nature provides
To appreciate beauty, wherever it breathes
And savor how nature seasons our lives
Copyright C R Clark-3/06/2008
C R Clark, 24 lutego 2012
The radiant Sun brings light to the day
And chases away night’s darkened skies
Revealing beauty that was hidden therein
Illuminating God’s marvelous design
But, the night is also blessed with its light
That gleams in the dark, ethereal expanse
The heavenly bodies that glimmer so bright
Illumine the blue with their warm radiance
Our learning requires an additional light
Imparted by those trained to edify
Our minds with essential and cultural facts
To illumine an, otherwise, uninformed life
Then, there’s the light most special of all
The light of the world, the redemption of man
The Son is the light that releases from sin
And illumines the soul as no other light can
Copyright C R Clark-3/11/2008
C R Clark, 23 lutego 2012
Poetry is the thoughts I have
I write them down for all to see
Some will like them, some will not
But, they all hold some import for me
The subject may be love or sports
Pitching woo or riding a horse
Or about hunting or fishing with worms
Or, just, some silly, rhyming verse
It may be truth, it may be tale
It may be true for someone else
But, written as if it were about me
It’s not a lie, its poetry
Copyright C R Clark-2/26/2008
C R Clark, 22 lutego 2012
I had a dream and you were there
In lace, with flowers, in your hair
Your beauty shown and lit the place
A constant smile was on your face
You were so young and full of life
And you had agreed to be my wife
The scene was set, the guests arrived
The preacher said, "You may kiss your bride"
But, when I turned and saw your face
Some other man was in my place
And I was standing on the side
As you were gazing into his eyes
Then, when you walked away with him
I felt my heart would surely rend
But, just as I was near despair
Then, I awoke and you were there
Copyright C R Clark-2/26/2008
C R Clark, 22 lutego 2012
It’s just an old abandoned farmhouse
On a weedy, grown up moor
I suspect that it has stood there
For a century or more
Its boards are firm but weathered
From it’s windows, shards of glass
Rusted tin upon the rooftop
Keeps its floor as dry as ash
How many has it sheltered
Through the years till its demise?
Children’s heights are duly noted
Notches cut and age inscribed
Dejectedly it stands there
Just affronted and ignored
After years of faithful service
Held in thoughtless disregard
It’s just an old abandoned farmhouse
On a weedy grown up moor
How faithfully it lingers there
How nobly it endures
While mighty winds may stroke its eaves
And its tin roof rust and stain
As maturity’s honored by hoary crown
Its dignity shall remain
ã C R Clark 7/26/2011
C R Clark, 22 lutego 2012
My Granddads porch was awesome
Though really quite austere
A place where neighbors sat and talked
Most any time of year
A place that’s in my memory
From a better time, I’m sure
I don’t recall great happenings
But I always felt secure
We’d sit there in the morning
Watch the cars and trucks go by
And every neighbor, as they passed
Would throw their hand up high
After supper in the evening
To the porch we would retire
And watch a brilliant sunset
Form a watercolor sky
The tree frogs and the crickets
Would croon their soothing trill
But my favorite sound of evening
Was the call of the whippoorwill
We’d go to bed quite early
I’d sleep soundly through the night
And wake to the aroma
Of breakfast cooking at sunrise
As I think back upon this time
I often mellow out
And wonder why it takes so long
To learn what really counts
I would truly love to go back
And relive this one more time
But the only way I’ve found, that works
Is to live it in my mind
Copyright: CR. Clark 4/5/07
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