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Best Poems Written by Clifford T.

Below are the all-time best Clifford T. poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Clifford T. Poem

Perry and Empire

‘Twas but a mist-enshrouded speckle
dark-painted on looming horizon.
Petty worker holds unwavering watch,
silently, stealthily keeps his eyes on.

Forward motion undeniable,
each passing minute size increasing.
Small heart stands alert and viable – 
beating fast and tremulous; though, never ever ceasing.

Moments reveal stark, unyielding visage
so confident, assured, and smug;
so grand in glory, so traveled, so worldly, 
laced in comment and compliment, so unlike our humble tug.

Steely vessel stays its resolute course – 
deliverance of goods and fare its compensated victory.
Tugboat sighs in the witness of the linear bulk -
so heavily adorned in commercial livery.

Gull passes low. Crying for what
no mind can know, much less announce.
A distraction that reminds
no one here is tied by moorings, is secured by mounts.

A tentative thrust is sputtered
into the immensity of the saltwater bay.
A test, an assurance of propulsion,
some gesture, a semblance in making the smallest of headway.

For surely it is his job
to steer this myopic, shore-bound lug – 
a princely assignment for one
so parochial as a six-legged bug.

The behemoth is nigh,
motion slowing, heading stupid;
grand in size, demeanor, and experience -
with steering as impotent as an arrow-less cupid.

Stoic eyes peer down to 
the struggling, focused underling:
“My name is Empire, it is written on my side.
Surely, yours is not an important thing.”

“You may be mighty and experienced
and even handsome in a funny, indefinable way
but I was created to assist,
and assist I will until my final rust-racked day.

For my name is Perry – 
punctuality is built into my frame.
I cannot be influenced by anything more that
you may have to say; it is not my game.”

Inching forward, making contact
head to belly, crown to rigid, cold-steel siding;
diesel pistons thrumming, water humming
churning to froth, molecules rapidly colliding.

The brutal, hundred-ton course
once so strong, unyielding, and forthright
now bends to the fruit of the effort,
to the will of an underdog’s might.

Another passing gull cries:
“If one were to measure worth,
would one count this of the grunty little grit 
or the aloofness of the steely-blue girth.”

Matters not thinks Perry,
though he mentions it not out loud:
“Of which is more important – 
The vastness of the ocean or the fragility of a cloud?”

For both are compulsory 
in the sustenance of all living things. 
To order one the more grand,
‘twould be the silliest of schemings.

Details | Clifford T. Poem

Leave Them Laughing

She, Gilda, would run into wall -
he, Chevy, orchestrate fumbling fall -
simply to invoke chuckle, chortle,
titter, spontaneous guffaw.

Carol’s impersonation of lone cleaner,
Bob’s deadpan unsmiling demeanor,
spoke on some basic level to all -
providing service of social screener.

She, Joan, of clever deprecation -
he, Curly, of selfless indignation -
reached for compassionate challenge
in offering gift of spiritual inflation.

Ellen’s casual, sanguine comments -
Rodney’s roguish, insightful laments -
has shined everyday light and mirrored
without lingering hint of niggling offense.

Whatever their name happens to be
it’s not that difficult to see
they loyally and lovingly portrayed
life’s rhythm, rhyme, and absurdity.

So, in this day, a friendly shout
to the individuals whom without
we might never had opportunity to’ve seen
what this strange journey is really about.

Details | Clifford T. Poem

Clown Fox

the yard was in a state of disarray
the caretaker there 
had been perceived
as being obtuse for offering as a quay
the promise of the gift of a coming day 

suspicion and rancor did hold prevail
surely it is too 
good to be true
we must quickly and collectively hail
the coming of a different way to assail 

what of our right to defend bigot and arm
yes surely we
can improve our
involvement to be part of overall farm
and here comes candidate chockful of charm 

“I will make change so fast ‘twill make head spin”
“but is that not
how some were
led to demise by similar reasoning
that head held tight would spin and spin again

until separated from bird left to squawk
around the yard
body running blind
now we really must think and truly not balk
at the implications of this fast new talk” 

“hold tongue ye lacking a true patriots heart
this creature is pure
speaks straight and true
we have no need for your groundless means of art
join the revolution or simply stand apart” 

and thus they did invite the hungry fox
that one fine day
without demanding
all that is gleaming at the bottom of the box
can’t be honesty though surely it mocks
 
“for we know this very creature is possessing
the cunning eye
the crafty way
and though he’s the gift of sweet caressing
he spins an artful dance of not addressing” 

“we had no choice” cries the opposing ken
“but, we had another
who surely had
qualification, articulation, manifestation
for in many ways she was groomed to have been 

but there it lurks behind Cheshire cat grin
the smug satisfaction
entitled reaching
the mentality that can only begin
to do whatever need be to secure a win"

the fox enters proudly becomes entrenched
the yard cheers loudly
surely change for all
the promise to remove suffering the quench
god forbid we should become as the french 

promises unraveled double-speak the rule
a little pluck
a bit of sup
they watch as the caricature begins to drool
“it is not I but ye who are the fool 

for I have cleverly shown that this melting pot
is not for all
but for those
who have got the mettle to bewitch and besot
ye thought I had misplaced that I somehow forgot 

a fox I am today and a fox I will be
the pot you saw
a bowl of soup
for those with similarly fashioned coterie
a way to gorge fatten and continue to feed” 

the fox pounces feathers scatter around
the last they see
the gleaming grin
the pompous twisted face of a fiendish clown
no one to hear cry or plea not a friend to be found

Details | Clifford T. Poem

Small Planet

[Small planet to the stars]


"Trapped am I,

so, why do try,

project a line

where all that be, be radii?"

Details | Clifford T. Poem

Seabird

Sky paints with seasoned brush
Sea answers -  a whispered hush

Sunbeam bounds on all around
This mute, commonly-held ground

Obvious allure shining bright
Spectacle of deflected light

White-cap endlessly waving
Soul full of space, waiting, craving

For surely this is God laughing
A nod to one just in passing

Or, could this be another sign
A place to pause this point in time

Regal image so large and rich
Salt spray carry my deepest wish

To artist and engineer
Of all spread before me here

Love is too obtuse a word
For such a magical seabird

An unsung song of the heart
Must be all that I can impart

Be it naked, and quite off-key
‘Tis all I have before I flee

And turn away before I see
All I need kneeling before thee

Details | Clifford T. Poem

To Harm a Butterfly

A relationship is like a butterfly. 
It can be full of color. 
It can be friendly. 
It is very real - yet, at once, really quite mysterious. 
It can take you to places that you otherwise wouldn’t go. 
Yet, it is also vulnerable. 
As such, it must be left to fly. 
Control it, and it will leave, or it will perish. 
Take a deep breath and watch the butterfly. 
Watch where it needs to go. 
If it chooses, it may come to visit and alight on you. 
Delight in its existence. 
But, don’t cling to it or alter its course; 
for, if you do, you will alter the mastery of its Being. 
It is not for you to own, capture, or restrict. 
It is yours to witness, to hold dear, to protect, and honor. 
It will run its course on its own 
for as long as it has need to in this world. 
All else is ego - all else, vanity.

Details | Clifford T. Poem

But a Dream

What if. . .
after all the time
that seemed to have passed


you awoke
to find yourself
prone 
in a crib
staring blearily
through bars at sun-dappled wallpaper
mulling over all of the images
that before you had played
and seemed so very real


even if you could speak
how would you begin
to describe the dream

Details | Clifford T. Poem

Tree As Soul

you stand content many arms unfolded
what is it
that you show
to one who’s heart has been heavily molded
by those who have smirked mocked oft times scolded

your wiry breadth expansive green and lush
the whisper there
spins a tale
to all who fell off trapped in undying rush
to not attend the head but to heed the hush

for as you are rooted quite fixed on a spot
for all time
no matter how
you yearn fret or complain you simply cannot
occupy other plain which time has forgot

gently you gesticulate noble and proud
you never
seem to mind
transience of day elasticity of cloud
the siren-call of lesser minds swayed by a crowd

were I to touch you would you help me to see
that all that
is imminent
that all which seems dark simply serves a plea
of grasping the essence of that which is free