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Vada-Lyn Clark Poem
Your silence is deafening,
As are the expressions you have yet to utter.
Ideas you mutter
Have fallen onto attentive ears,
One who hears
Conceptualizations you have yet to speak of
And notions you have only since dreamed of.
A supposition of love,
Perhaps not the state of being in love,
Leading to holding her above
The pedestal. For in this moment,
Her feet are too sterling
To be sullied by the dust
Left so carelessly on the plinth
That has yet been handled
Since the assumed maiden
Devastated your heart and abandoned it.
She left it vacant,
Allowing the new artisan to place gracefully
In her hand, the brush of crimson paint,
Renewing the color
That the crone thieved of you.
A warning is passed onto,
Sent so loudly
That your ears can't seem to
Indulge on the phrases.
Spells of dejection to offer many a protection,
Shouting to hold your deafening silences
And allow her to run mad.
For she can hear all that is unspoken,
Her understanding, unbroken,
But speaking it aloud
Leaves all emotions open.
Copyright © Vada-Lyn Clark | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Vada-Lyn Clark Poem
An endless spiral of infinite emotions;
First thought of as hell,
But we have differing interpretations.
Because the spirals in your eyes
Are kin to mine,
And the spirals in your cheeks
Are like the rings in a tree;
So beautiful to me.
I find it onerous on the mind
To consolidate my thoughts
And compare you to material things
Because, my dear,
You are beyond the material brain.
You are an entity I'd define as
Pure beauty.
Artistry, and almost a beautiful contrivance,
But far too genuine to be artificial.
You are the artist, the brush, and the canvas,
As if to say,
The maiden, the mother, and the crone.
A being of love, life, and death.
You are the start and the end.
The world and its galaxy.
And to think,
This is just what I see
By looking into the clairvoyant's orbs;
What we might call,
Eyes.
Copyright © Vada-Lyn Clark | Year Posted 2026
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