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Best Poems Written by Clement Hardy

Below are the all-time best Clement Hardy poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Fools Folly

Tears falling like rain ,
                       could never wash away this pain,
                            So cry no more , will I for you ,
                       In lonely nights , when I am blue.
                       On bitter memeories , I am keeping ,
                      tis time to end , this endless weeping.
                           In nights of tormented unrest , 
                      no comfort found in dreams , or sleeping.
                             In the lonely days as I reminiss,
                           alas , amongst such melancholy , 
                                      and thoughts , I know ,  
                                       are only A fools folly .

                  Heartache and loss , longinging , so unbearable ,
                  though remorse , was never given , to being charitable.
                           Regrettably , I face the daunting facts ,
                           I must go on , no turning back ,
                           To find a new life , a new love ,
                              such are the treasures , that I lack .

                        A poor man , but wiser , knowing not the future ,
                                          or what I may find,

                              Wishing only for someone to love ,
                                              and to be kind.


                                           Clement Hardy

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Tempestuous Love

There is a calm across the waters,
The sky tis sullen and laden,
As the heavens pail with discolour.
The sea bestills with anticipation,
Birds fleeing , seeking, haven.
A silence begins to fall, as the tempest, draws near.
Clouds begin to stir , as a shuffling rumble is heard .
A gentle zephyr lulls across the the sea,
Tis the beginning.
Slowly it draws nearer,
Ominously approaching, eddying, waiting,
With eerie intent.
A crackling whip is heard, the heavens explode with light,
A cacophonic symphony begins, all is ablaze ,
A myriad of sight and sounds,
Seas boiling, afroth,
Whipped unmercilessly , by hellish gales,
Bolts of unearthly radiance, flash and eminate the sky.
Sheets , and torrents, plummet down ,
In violent cascades,
Blinding , soaking  in its fury.
I watch as nature releases its harness,
Unleashing the elemental forces.
Here I stand , alone the shore ,
Awed , in reverie, of such a power.

Yet ever , as always , the storm abates,
The rains begin to ease,
The winds , soften, clouds , drift away.
The sunshine , returns ,
Birds , begin to sing ,the sea gently, waves.
 I  am left , with , a longing, and a joy, 
Of such wonders,
That I shall come again , to these shores ,
And watch the storms ,
 Next time , hell ,unchains the shackles ,
To her door.   

Clement Hardy.

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When the Reaper Rise's

In the Darkness, when the shadows surround, 
The light grows thin, the flame burnt down,

The Witching Hour draws near,
 The piercing shrill, of the harpies we fear.

The Deathly Knell, of the Clock tower bell,
 We hear, Resonant, The Hell, where all our Sins,
Will sear, All flesh consumed in A fiery blaze.

Smiling he waits, Lucifer his name,
Happy to watch, thy torment, and pain,
For all eternity, to dwell, in the cursed domain.

Dusk draws nigh, and the days light begins,
The dawn of a new day, shines in. 
  
The promise, in warmth, cloaks us all,
Heartily we wake, to what the day might befall.

Stout of Heart, and Strong of Will,
We start anew, the day to fill.

Toil at our work, and duties sublime,
Hold fast the course, to fate and time.

Long is the day, when near its ends,
Time to turn round, and fork that next bend.

Bresting the rise, we near the crest,
When all men’s hearts will face the,
Final test.

To walk in the light, and stay true to the path,
Hope and salvation, in the afterlife.

Deviate down the trodden way,
Were many a Man has gone astray?

To sleep in dreams, of quiet rest, 
Or dread the night, and Darks conquest,

When the death bell tolls, and the Reaper, rise’s
Our day of reckoning, and alls, surmising,

When Judgements made, for all of time,
Lost souls, or fate’s divine.


Clement Hardy

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Ode To Dawn

As Dawn , awakens , from its slumber ,
her golden arms , reach out to caress another day .
Arising , it embraces you , envelops , and gentily warms .
Those soft tenderils , of light , filtering , through nights cloak ,
each , piercing , the dark veil ,
onwards , she must sail,
reaching across the oceans , the mountains , and the plain,
to invite ,another day ,
with a radiance , a brightness , 
an omnipotent presence , and source of alightness.
Birds begin to sing there song of morn ,
as the gentle breeze arouses , natures  canvas ,
the wild flowers , for us to adorn.
A filament of light , catches the dew ,
hanging , sleepily in the web,
glisstening , with , brilliance and lustre ,
heavens joy , manifest .
On it reaches , gleaming its path , through all our earths ,
domains.
This wonderous , affermation of beauty and admiration ,
is not really , an amazing surprise,
all we need do , is rise early , one morning ,
and watch a sunrise.

                                               Clement Hardy.

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The Pen

THE PEN.

As I put my Pen to paper,
My mind begins to transcend its earthly bounds,
into realms , far greater than presence alone,
Reality but a state of being.
As transcidity, slowly takes me ,
my thoughts alight from there rationality,
they gently flow, into the Seas of quiddity,
A place where thoughts are immersed,
expanded, kneaded, cleansed,
 and allowed to flow freely, amongst the others.
Here the currents turn , the tide ebbs ,
 and all things come together, 
 and as a wave comes to shore, there to comes ,
“ Inspiration “
this thing, that runs from my pen , and flows to paper ,
such are my thoughts,
there complexity beyond  any comprehension,
or so they seem.
So as I sit here and write, so am I written,
my very being, transcribed
I am layed open, a page written,
that but of another chapter, 
each a part of the whole story ,
as yet , A story without end, 
for thoughts are infinite, my life but yet begun.
My Pen , hungry for the paper,
this simple but beautiful implement, 
that allows my self expression to emerge,
this wich allows my thoughts  to converge,
this wich can allow my mind to be purged .
So as I lay my Pen down , and take time to think,
I pray,
Dear God,
please dont let them run out of ink.



Clement Hardy.

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A Memory of Joy.

A MEMORY OF JOY.


The Joy you bring, to all you meet,
Is such a wonderful affirmation,
It makes a Mans heart, feel weak.
You’re Smile, that brightens the darkest day,
A hearty laugh, infectious to all, who pass your way.
With Gentle manner, and Kindly way,
This can soothe, the harshest tempered demeanour,
They say.
A Beauty, so Rare, of Elegance and Grace,
Loving eyes that adorn,
An Angel’s face.
Of slender form, that seems to flow, 
Effortlessly, with Eloquence, and Charm,
Wherever you go,
Intent to listen, to all, you know,
Passing comfort, and care, to friend or foe.
You’re Presence, felt, wherever you pass,
Leaves a haunting memory,
To forever last.




Clement Hardy.

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Wich Is the Way

My mind, tis restless, my thoughts are in the obscure,
Often wandering aimlessly,
Where is the direction, the course that I should follow?
Alas tis lost. 
Is it, that I must search, life’s often tread, happen tracks,
Or that a new path, be cut.
Is everything elusion,
Caused by a self dreamt, delusion,
Where is purpose, in what direction?
Of Mine, I seek not to walk in the path of the self righteous,
Nor there indignations,
Yet be humble, though not aloof.
To walk amongst the people,
Not to lead, nor to follow.
My genre, is such, that I am what, I am,
Not that wich I should be,
For Me, I see clearly my direction,
Cut cleanly through the haze,
I will be all of myself, that I can,
Trying not to deviate from its direction to often,
As I need its instinctive ness, its uniqueness,
I shall be as one, yet not of the pack, 
This is my Way.





Clement Hardy.

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The Circle.

How bitter sweet the struggle of life,
Twisting, turning, changing all the while,
Full of endless dreams, and longing smiles.
In how we are shaped and moulded through youth,
Those searching times, looking for truth.
In the Knowing, and the coming of age,
The broken hearts, the silent rage.
Life’s, eternal question, asking why,
How long will I live, and when will I die,
Learning to love, and learning to cry.
As we seek out that certain someone,
With whom to share our lives,
To love and to cherish,
To make them our wives.
And so it comes then, to time of cheer and mirth,
We know this then, the miracle of birth.
In so, our lives come full circle,
Back to the beginnings,
 New experiences, with new heights to reach,
All the right and wrongs, that we must teach,
In watching and knowing, 
In seeing our children growing.

 In all the Worlds, of Joy and Wonder, that I have known,
This by far, is the sweetest that I,
Will ever own.

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The Secret of the Stars.

THE SECRET OF THE STARS.

As the day draws to dusk, and day, nears its end,
Night’s curtain slowly begins to fall,
I watch the horizon, for the first,
Silent sentinels, to call.
As the night is enveloped into darkness,
They, many fold, begin to appear,
Some so vary far, yet some so near.
They glow, incandescently, flickering,
Like a candle flame in the breeze,
There call, illuminating, in the vast expanse,
So alive, they sway,
These astral giants seem to dance.
Longingly, I reach out to touch them,
To know them, and to know, why,
Yet silent they remain, as ever unanswering,
Distant,
Their communion forever am I denied,
Not once, has one of them replied.
Such is the secret of the stars,
The complexity of them , and the vastness, unknown,
 Forever beautiful,
Eternal.



Clement Hardy.

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Longing Breaths

The heavens clapped, 
and wept with delight,
to have witnessed ,such a union ,
so pure, so bright.

 A Beauty, so rare, yet true,
their are none, that are so fair as you.


Oh how the heart does ache,
from unrequited love , it doth break ,
and the longing breaths , in , then partake.