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Sarah Jane Conklin Poem
As I lay in bed
while I go to sleep,
My thoughts start to swirl ‘round my head.
To quiet my mind, I try to unwind,
Take comfort in my little bed.
Good night to my eyes,
I flutter them closed.
The wonders that they help me see.
The sun and the stars, I think I’ve seen Mars,
The dance of the wild honey bee.
Good night to my ears,
I tune out the sounds,
The wonders that they help me hear.
Like haunting loon calls, and thunderous falls,
The crunch from a family of deer.
Good night to my nose,
I breathe in the air,
The wondrous scents I can smell.
Baked bread, and earth’s dirt, my dad’s favourite shirt,
Inside of a seaside seashell.
Good night to my mouth
My lips barely touch.
The wonderful things it can do.
Like taste juicy fruit, and play on my flute,
And utter the words ‘I love you’.
Good night to my arms,
They lay by my side,
The wonders that they help me hold.
My books and my cat, who wouldn’t love that,
My mom when I’m shivering cold.
Good night to my hands,
My palms face the sky,
The wonders that they help me feel.
There’s velvet and lace, my grandmothers face,
My orange’s rough and smooth peel.
Good night to my legs,
I try to keep still,
The wondrous places we’ve walked.
On pathways and shores, and all the outdoors,
Where mountains and canyons have talked.
Good night to my feet,
My toes tingle too.
The wonderful balance they bring.
They help me climb rocks, I wear fancy socks,
I twirl on my toes when I sing.
Good night to my heart,
It rises and falls,
My wondrous life hears its call.
It gives and receives, it heals and believes,
There’s plenty of
Room,
Hope,
Love,
for us all.
Copyright © Sarah Jane Conklin | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Jane Conklin Poem
Smaller than a dinosaur,
But bigger than a bear,
A boulder’s tucked back in the woods,
Forever, it’s been there.
It’s wondrous in its natural form,
A nursery, home, and den.
You may not notice at first glance,
Come closer, look again.
Among the trees and woodland brush,
It blends into the scene.
If not a second closer look,
I’d never would have seen.
A closer look, it’s crevices,
Have tiny forms of life.
Sprouting seeds and baby bugs,
A nursery for wildlife.
And on one side there is a ledge,
Where I can safely sit.
A little chair, a throne of sorts,
I stay to think a bit.
I’m nestled in the trees around,
The pine and fir and birch.
Then watch as sparrows, crows and wrens,
Fly down to take a perch.
Its striped with veins of sediment,
Of white and flex of gold.
Perhaps entombed with fossils from
The Ice Age, oh, that’s old!
A bearded, scaly tree entwines
Its roots around its form.
Creating spaces, tiny rooms,
A woodland creature’s dorm.
The pockets of collected dirt,
Make perfect little holes.
As squirrels, chipmunks scurry in,
And moles and tiny voles.
When my imagination runs,
I think of what could be.
A closer look, a world exists,
If only just to me.
Is this an old enchanted rock,
Where mythic creatures hide?
No bigger than four inches tall,
Down little holes they slide.
I wonder if these elves can sing,
Or if the faeries talk.
One thing that I believe for fact,
It’s more than just a rock.
Perhaps the root’s a giant claw
Protecting very well,
The secret homes and cavities,
Where elves and faeries dwell.
They feast upon the berries from
The bushes all around.
And chestnuts, acorns, pinecones too,
That fall onto the ground.
They keep a pretty fancy home,
Though never have been seen,
With pebbled pots and shady spots,
And carpets mossy green.
The sun wakes up the dewy sky,
I see the carpet glisten.
I hear the sounds that mornings bring,
If I just closely listen.
I feel the roughness in its size,
And smell the forest floor.
The richness in the leaves and soil,
Each life producing spore.
Before I leave, I circle ‘round,
And take a final look.
There’s weeds that ‘milk’, a spider’s silk,
Another secret nook.
So if you see a dug-out log,
A rose or winter wren,
A forest floor, please look some more,
Just every now and then.
And all the possibilities,
Present themselves, and when,
There’s always more than meets the eye,
Don’t pass it by.
But wonder why.
Let your imagination fly.
Come closer, look again.
Copyright © Sarah Jane Conklin | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Sarah Jane Conklin Poem
I hear the dishes clink and clank,
And footsteps on the floor.
Are you still there? I ask myself,
I don't know anymore.
I reach the stairs and sit a while,
Outside my bedroom door.
"Are you still there?" I ask out loud,
I wish that I knew more.
I'm almost down the staircase now,
I'm sitting on step four.
I see you through the railing gaps,
Inside the kitchen door.
You are still there! I see you now,
Of this I can be sure.
I'll stay a while and watch you as you
Finish up your chore.
"It's time for bed, you sleepy head.
Feel safe and feel secure.
I'll always be right here for you,
Right now and evermore."
Copyright © Sarah Jane Conklin | Year Posted 2022
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