Words have gone
Lost, forgotten, laying strewn
Across a uncaring lawn.
No time to pick them up
No time to remember
What has been forgot.
Words were said
Yet no one remembers exactly
Or just what.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019
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
I can see the words
They tell me of the time
When hearts were loved
And words all rhymed.
They tell me of the joy
The majesty and triumphant gladness
No casting of badness
No broken bones
Or hearts lost in a world
Filled with madness.
These words they fill the place
With love, beauty, grace
I accept the honour
Bestowed here upon me
Of seeing life with words that
Never conquer
Just for the sake of me.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2012
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
Rambling on using words to fill the pause.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013
I can see the words
They tell me of the time
When hearts were loved
And words all rhymed.
They tell me of the joy
The majesty and triumphant gladness
No casting of badness
No broken bones
Or hearts lost in a world
Filled with madness.
These words they fill the place
With love, beauty, grace
I accept the honour
Bestowed here upon me
Of seeing life with words that
Never conquer
Just for the sake of me.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2012