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Greg Clark Poem
Thoughts streak across my mind.
Like the gunner laying out flak.
It’s quite the disturbing
light show.
No peace here.
It’s war.
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
If but my passion
I could capture in one hand
The power I would wield.
Doubts and fear.
Crushed like granite
under an anvils throw.
If but my passion
Could make this foot move.
I would surely climb the highest peak.
With sureness.
With faith.
Gaze to the valleys in disbelief.
If but my passion.
Were of a rain showers passing.
Then the water that laid bare.
Shall employ the sun.
To grow the peace
of a forest green.
If but my passion
Were the rolling stone.
Then what simple effort.
This life could be.
Never a question
to be misunderstood.
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
I could give up on you.
Let lying to myself.
Become as comfortable
as an old blanket.
Unburden my eyes
of your shape,
of your smile.
For dreams are for the dreamers.
So I would drudge in reality.
Lose myself in the geography
of my mind.
Yes I could do all of that
but for the fact.
I love you.
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
A white stone necklace
with its delicate chain
laid around her neck.
Matching the buttons on her blouse.
It was a nuance.
Yet I picked up on it.
Like so many I watch for.
Countless times
I have tried to look away.
But my eyes only see
everything
I have wished for.
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
I stood before an abandon house.
Time had broken its spirit.
It’s ridge bent and broke.
Still it was majestic.
It held some pride.
A century since first hammer and nail.
Yet I wondered of it’s life.
I wondered how many had lived there.
Called it their home.
Their pride.
I wondered of the tears
that surely flowed.
Through slamming of doors.
I wondered of the celebrations.
The candles.
The laughter.
I wondered of the trees.
That lived their lives with it.
Standing firm.
Protecting.
I wondered how long
It will stand.
Before enough is enough.
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
I have a secret garden.
It’s hidden.
I suppose from everyone’s eyes.
Well it’s on a path not known well.
But it’s always there.
In that wooded woods.
Where I call to my dreams.
Gaze at the future.
Where I perceive beauty.
Drawing love into my heart.
Oh and it’s pretty.
Sunlight blushes at its sight.
Little birds sing it’s praises.
In every little song.
Yet it’s my secret garden.
Never to be believed.
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
Can I not tell her
I watched her grow
Though my pride beams
Yet I am shackled in this life
Can I not tell her
That my heart
Wrote me a fairytale
Yet the reality of life is cruel
Can I not tell her
Her smile
Will carry my eyes forever
Yet Cupid laughs at his callousness
Can I not tell her
She must fly away
To that life we dreamed
Yet I have neither feather nor wing
Can I not tell her
I love you
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
“Am I beautiful?“
She asked.
Listen to the birds.
They sing for you.
The songs they carry.
In the soft wind.
That is your beauty.
A river.
With it’s fierce blue rapids.
All of that life.
In Complicated waters.
That is your beauty.
The mountains.
With their highs of highs.
Sunlit valleys.
Nature laying it all out.
That is your beauty.
The heavens.
Where worlds shimmer
and planets burst into
the rarest splendor.
That is your beauty
“Yes my darling you are truly beautiful”
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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Greg Clark Poem
Would today be the day.
She feels my whispers
softly grasping to say.
You affect me in every way.
Would today be the day.
I could call to her
through the fire.
Surviving my desire.
Would today be the day.
She would hear
the obsession cry.
Come to me and feed my high.
Would today be the day.
The addiction
takes hold.
All sanity escaping my soul.
Copyright © Greg Clark | Year Posted 2020
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