Short Clarke Poems

I'm not sure what it was
Let's just call it happiness.
Treasure. Rare and precious.
I took it with me everywhere,
Then you came along.
Now it's damaged
There isn't much left
So I've hidden it,
But I'm not sure where.

Tricia Lucas-Clarke
24th April 2018...

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( In Memoriam Liam Clarke)

The strandcafe was
                     lined with Hitchcock seagulls

as you looked over
                    your glasses with concern
                    and said

that I did not understand Hegel.

A time ago of rage and joy, of rain....

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I felt happy as a lark,
I watched an aardvark;
As I sat in a giant arc.
Next, I waved hi to Mark,
As he jogged in the park.
He wanted to catch Clarke.
Then I noticed a dog bark,
That resembled a gray shark;
Lastly, had to run; it got dark.










Alexis Y.
03/11/2022...

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Only now I realise that summer has finished
Cold mornings and foggy skies
The early evening light diminished
Orange leaves dance like butterflies
Baked pumpkins, carved faces
Excited children, ghostly places
Reward with treats or a trick in store.

Tricia Lucas-Clarke
For contest -  Fall...

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Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

The Night Before Christmas

In juxtaposition to the Nativity, while the
house beheld a calm and somnolence splendors
were a cool and gentle balm, the quintescence
of the evening was a certain entourage that
would dispel the expectations of a puerile
melange.
"Veni, vidi, vice", he gave a joyous cry,
"Requiescant in pace, I'll see you by and by."...

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SCOTTISH MIST

as I lie on your chest- sculpture
listen to the
lament

peculiar birds 
are suspended above
the poignant attraction
of your eyes

and the edifice is
satisfying as
blue trilbies 
sneeze in the Scotch mist

come nearer love
as the hero’s
trace the heavens
ubiquitously

 there are blizzard trinkets tumbling

(For Michael P. Clarke)






© Kim van Breda— 26 June 2014...

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SOULS THAT RESCUE

so rare the man who looks beyond
his own desires
to reach the hearts of those who yearn
for loves supplies

words woven to strengthen woman’s
sense of sight
romance at its most flawless shines
into her light

true poets are prone to such wiles
as quills flight
rescue souls alike from falling
into dark night

(Written for Michael P. Clarke—one of P/Soups most amazing souls)




© Kim van Breda—June 2014...

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If the disciples hadn't encountered Him,
--Risen-- three days after He had died--
They wouldn't have given their lives
--for Him! Wouldn't even have tried.

They didn't suggest they'd had a vision
of Jesus resurrected, just in a dream--
The Son shone through a cloud of witnesses...
Healed wound-marks --proof-- He did redeem!






~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inspired by listening 2 the Cale Clarke Show,
on Relevant Radio-- after Easter Sunday! :-D...

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