
Marching on
Thru the wind, the rain
All’s the same
But
Do I gain ground or just march
March on, march on.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2016


Marching on
Thru the wind, the rain
All’s the same
But
Do I gain ground or just march
March on, march on.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2016


In it’s grip
It’s grip so tight
Hearing ice crack
As limbs fight to stay aloft
In the cruel, bleak night
Sparks shoot into the sky
Wires break, electricity dies.
We wait for help, to understand
A world changed, transformed
Across our little plot of land.
No cell phone works
No lights come on
Except from generators
Throttled up, throttled down.
While chainsaws roar cross the land
We do our best
To clean up, to understand.
~Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2016


It blows again,
Drifting too, across the land
No remorse
It just covers bursting, growing, green land
Squirrels sigh, birds don’t sing
Blowing snow
Covers everything.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson 2016


Thinking of the beauty
Here in spring.
Thinking of growth
The rising from the ground.
Thinking of life’s birth anew
Oh so profound.
Thinking of creation’s magic
Like the beauty in a wren’s song.
Thinking
Thinking of a song.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2016


Love is never lost
Only left behind or put in a place
Where it can’t grow.
Sow love seeds so dear
Nurture, care
Watch love grow.
No needy nor neglect
Let love grow in your heart
Don’t let it be, ever lost.
For this you’ll know
As you watch it grow
Love can never, ever be lost.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2016


Silent harmony guiding me
Guiding me to all that is happy
Full of loving harmony.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2016

Feel the green coming thru
Up from ground all muddy too
Crickets run across the lane
To get to where is their domain.
Birds fly by tired from
Their trip up north
Gleaming food
from any source.
Sun is weak and far away
Coming closer day by day
Smile, relax know for sure
Weather cures all winter blues.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2012


Did you ever wonder why
We did the things we thought
The things we did?
No one else could tell
How it would go
It would smell
No one said or did they yell.
Then its over, we could tell
No morse code
No Hail Mary
Or playing William Tell.
All’s gone, all that’s left
Is the wonder why
We did the things we thought
The things we did
So well.
~ Patrice

© Patrice Clarkson – 2016