I hear the grass growing
See the leaves unfurl
No clock ticking
Telling them their journey
Their time is now due
Yet each and every year
They know just what to do.
The reason I’ve discovered
A mind
A mastermind is holding court
Creating, making things
The way they should be
And telling them
Just what they should do.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
Butterfly
From my window I see you fly
Crossing by
Butterfly
Your beauty is exquisite
Coloured a wondrous earthy brown
Butterfly
Never growing old
Nor flying far away
Butterfly
In winter’s frozen cold
You fly, butterfly
Butterfly
Etched forever in cedar wood
My very own
Butterfly
Thou I imagine one day you will come alive
Flying with other butterflies
Butterfly
To far away places, warm, full of beauty
Butterfly fly
Butterfly
That’s when I’ll say goodbye
To my precious wooden
Butterfly.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2015
The day before
Something.
Not sure what that is
But I know, know it’s
Something.
I’ll go thru my life
Living it to the highest heights
It’ll be
Something.
Then afterwards
When all is said and done
I’ll sit back and say
That was
Something.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
Will shorts ever be an option?
Cold winds blow frozen
Ice it seems encloses
No bright, growing spring
No warm summer sun.
Harsh, angry weather
Keeping winter coats on
In what was suppose to be spring.
No respite
Birds shivering
Tulips freezing
Babies crying
No,
Shorts are not an option tonight.
~ Patrice
Patrice Clarkson – 2019
Feeling anger with no remorse
Feel like I’m stepping on
A unproductive, negative course.
It’s not like I will abide
In this state
But for now, I’ll let it ride.
Feel like no one knows
Nor do they care
The hurt they give
It seems unfair.
Yes, I’ll let it ride
And tomorrow, hopefully
Saner minds will survive.
Giving me a better outlook
A better feel
For those who criticize.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
I haven’t stopped to understand
Haven’t known which way
Is at my command
All seems so hard
To comprehend, to understand.
Please let me know
The knowledge needed
The way be seen
For without this where will I be
Except the same place
I’ve always been.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
A deer came by my window
She stopped. looked me in the eye
She flicked her tail, twitched her ear
As she listened for danger near by
Then on down the path she went
No longer seen by me
Disappearing into the woods
On this bright beautiful, sunny day.
A few minutes later as I was off to run
There she lay, mortally injured
Unable to run
She heard my voice, so near, so close
Her tail flicked, her ears twitched
She tried once again to run
But her eyes were closed
Nothing worked and there she lay
Dying slowly, dying
On this bright beautiful, sunny day.
A woman in a big Ram truck
Slowed up just to pass the time of day
Not seeming to notice
A deer dying, on the side of the road
Nor if I had called the police
I had, they came, they put her away
I heard the shot, saw her body twitch
I saw her die on the side of the road
That deer who was outside my window
On this bright beautiful, sunny day.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
For all I know
It could be not a thing
In a abyss of something.
For all I know
I’m not here.
For all I know
This is a dream
I’ve dreamt before.
But who keeps score
No one
For all I know.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
Grass grows up
From falling spring rain
As nutrients blend
Into earth parched cold
From winter’s freezing reign.
Optimistic and hopeful
Flowers bud
Unfurl
To warm sun rays.
Babies of all kinds born
Guarded lovingly by
Mothers, fathers working tirelessly
Feeding open mouths
Sometimes hard to attain.
Spring has come
The air is full
With a sweet, melodic refrain.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
Nobody said I had to know
Nobody knew whether
I needed to go
To a place so true
Where the sky is a radiant blue
The grass beneath soft, tender feet
Welcomes all
And holds them safe
Need not go to another place.
Nobody knew
Nor did they say
What would happen in a place
So full of beauty, dignity
And quiet grace
That I know, I’ll live, I’ll see today.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
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