The idea came
I think yesterday
All laden in glory, no more can I say.
The idea came
I don’t know from where
Out of the blue it was just was there.
The idea came
Quietly
No bolt of thunder or shouts of ecstasy.
So I must get busy, work away
And make it real
This idea that came to me yesterday.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2014
Ever wonder why?
Ever think things happen
On a line
You can’t deny?
Ever wonder why
Answers come
But don’t seem to be
The ones asked
Or seen technically?
Ever wonder, wonder why?
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2018
Anticipation rises
Failure devises
Ways to be left
In the wind.
Heart rate rises
No way can
Desires be ignored
Over and over again.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2018
Falling softly
Laying quiet upon the ground
No sound tells the story
No wind whispers words
That made snow
Come falling down.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2018
Sitting here thinking
About what my day may be all about
Hoping for no pressure, just fun, laughter
You know what thats about.
Hoping my heart will grow with love
While my sorrows just ebb away
No tremendous thud
Yes, I could learn to love
What that is all about.
Just sitting here thinking
Thinking what my day
Is going to be all about.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2014
Confusion, despair
Don’t know
Which way to twist.
Fighting heartache
Fighting a vacuum
No air.
Survival is the call
Even if it may feel
Your back’s to the wall.
Stand true
Stand and know
There’s only one you.
You are the one
That’ll come thru
Brave, wonderful you.
~ Patrice
Patrice Clarkson – 2018
Reset my life in an instant
Like a roll of the dice
Never knowing where it’s going
Never understanding
Where I’ve just been
I’m here, moving
Going forward
With a smile and a grin.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2018
Taking a break
Going to wait til I feel
My thoughts are revived.
Will think of you still
But just not writing until
I feel an inspiring thought.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2018
Poetry
Taken from the pages
Of anarchy
Full in the hearts of subtlety
Showing no malice is
Poetry.
Poetry
Why have you come
To be my destiny?
Nothing matters but
The throes of the heart in
Poetry.
Poetry
Anger, passion, full
Of the vacant sound coming
From that original sin
Even then
Blessed is the heart
That changes history with
Poetry.
Poetry
No one can know what
Could have been
My heart, my love and
All life has been and now
Come be within
Poetry.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2014
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