My pen writes what I say
My pen never questions
The words I put down.
Anyone can use
My pen
It doesn’t care but writes
What the fingers share.
My pen
Follows along
Putting down the thoughts
Without it the words would
Be long, long gone.
My pen
Is always there
Then its done
And I get another one
My pen.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013
Up in the bustling sky
A thousand clouds go flying by
Not one
Not one ever asks why.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013
A hummingbird hovers making sure its safe
To drink nectar that brings forth
A feeling of heaven’s gate.
A hummingbird’s wings sing as she flies
In between blooms sending scent promising
Just about everything.
A hummingbird’s nest of twigs and things
Babies so small
They are next to nearly nothing.
A hummingbird dodges leaves and flowers
On the hunt of insects nutritious there
Amongst other things.
But you know I don’t think
That I’ve ever heard
A hummingbird sing
Anything.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013
The heart is a treasure
Hopefully, never to be seen
It guides, beats life in a body
Where she is queen.
The mind may be king
But the heart, she is queen
Without her
The mind can’t do anything.
Giving life, birthing life
Holding life in between
No one lives a life without a heart
Hopefully, never to be seen.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2017
Heaven help the world
Understand
There is no tomorrow
If we don’t stand and
Let nature be around.
We alone cannot supply
Our food nor make rain
Come pouring down.
Understand
We are but a small dot
In a world
Simply
Spinning round.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2017
The smell of lilacs ebbs and flows
Over my senses
Taking me back in time
When life was slow
And in pastures green
Children laughing, playing
Running past the stream.
Sweet scented lilacs are my time machine.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013
I saw a hummingbird amongst snowflakes
Shattering life, no respite
Falling into spring cold and shivering
Hovering over brave blooms
As you come to make a summer home
In this land that has no way
To warm and comfort
On this cold spring day.
Fly south I’d say, then wait a day
Before braving storms to come back
To the land you can call
A summer home once more
Yes, I saw a hummingbird
Amongst snowflakes just today.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013
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