Short Clarke Poems
Short Clarke Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Clarke by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Clarke by length and keyword.
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
( 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.
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
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
He’s called Santa, Fatman, at times Saint Nick
His flying reindeer are what’s truly sick!
Kids get Santa’s Naughty or Nice List drift
Kindness becomes them, for an awesome gift
Literary work
"Twas the Night Before Christmas" by Clement Clarke Moore or possibly Henry Livingston Jr.
Christmas Eve
12/24/25
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."
Performances won the early acclaim,
Unleashed his metaphoric rise to fame,
Now poetry would never be the same,
Kersal to Kyoto, shouted his name,
Polemic eighties, verses sounding stark,
Opiod evenings, a voice from the dark,
Everybody said, “Those words are Maker’s Mark,
There goes that world famous, John Cooper-Clarke”.
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
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
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