I Didn’t Draw, I Wouldn’t Paint

Patrice Clarkson's Blog

I didn’t draw, I wouldn’t paint
Little love, lots of hate
Time stood still
And seemed to crawl
No one knew
What could or would be all.

Focused on the wrong thing then
Didn’t know what was up
Or around the bend.
Hardship was a constant friend
Little laughter to ease my way
Just disaster each turn I made.

Then they came and held me up
Turned me round to see the light
Not just of love
But a grandeur life
Stroked my soul, made things right
This they did for me one night.

They stood behind, smiled and laughed
No judgement made in this my craft
What took so long?
You might ask
But only those who know
Can answer that.
~ Patrice

© Patrice Clarkson – 2012

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What Year Is This?

What year is this?
Is it the year
Of my freedom, my triumph?
Or just another disaster
I must and will master.

Creeping, crawling through
The sadness, the madness
Striving for some gladness
To dwell here in my heart
When will it start?

When will all this muddy
Turmoil leave, depart?
Nothing wrong
Just following along
With the throng.

Yes, nothings wrong
It’s just that
Nothings right
In this year
This year of sadness
I’m living tonight.
~ Patrice

 

 

© Patrice Clarkson – 2013

I Didn’t Draw, I Wouldn’t Paint

I didn’t draw, I wouldn’t paint
Little love, lots of hate
Time stood still
And seemed to crawl
No one knew
What could or would be all.

Focused on the wrong thing then
Didn’t know what was up
Or around the bend.
Hardship was a constant friend
Little laughter to ease my way
Just disaster each turn I made.

Then they came and held me up
Turned me round to see the light
Not just of love
But a grandeur life
Stroked my soul, made things right
This they did for me one night.

They stood behind, smiled and laughed
No judgement made in this my craft
What took so long?
You might ask
But only those who know
Can answer that.
~ Patrice

© Patrice Clarkson – 2012

Hear The Wind Blow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hear the wind blow
Blowing goodness
Health and prosperity
Into the arms of the waiting
Suffocating dread
Hurt and disaster.

Blowing, blowing
Blowing fresh, pure air
Into the lives of believers
Hear the wind blow
Blowing our troubles
Away.
~ Patrice

 

 

 

© Patrice Clarkson – 2012