Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, September 21, 2011,
In :
poetry
 If you sit still long enough and stare
into the yard, notice the bird hop and
peck for bugs in the grass, see the pecan
tree branches sway and bend, watch the
squirrels watch you for the slightest
movement...
then the world you left inside will
begin to rust away, corrode in slow,
steady breaths, your indoor words will
oxidize into laces of umber and sorrel and
chestnut until you reach the bottom line
of your soul, the stark metal base of your
life, run your fingers over the spiny tips of
the box-leaf ho... Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, May 29, 2011,
In :
poetry
 winter cold melts
spring days lengthen and warm
summers laughter fades into
autumns golden frost
seasons change but
friendships don't
we just walk a little closer
to each other
and to Him.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, May 10, 2011,
In :
poetry
 Sometimes we trudge the same, aging path
searching for something new to see, new
to hear, new to feel, forgetting, sometimes,
the faithful beauty of consistency that
enables us to arrive at
new destinations.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, March 18, 2011,
In :
poetry
 sunset in
the graveyard,
wisemen kneel,
shepherds praise;
for fifty-six years,
someone
looks forward
to eternity
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, January 24, 2011,
In :
poetry
 It's good to know
for those of us at risk
of falling, tumbling, skidding,
backward, forward, downward, around
into harm and pain and mistakes untold,
that Someone hears
the alarm
and comes running.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, January 16, 2011,
In :
poetry
 What are you doing, Lord, with
that searing pain and
my pounding heart and
his ashen face, Lord,
did you remember to say
I'll be right back, before
you left the room?
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, January 5, 2011,
In :
poetry
 The future seldom clear
looms ahead, cloaked in gray,
the color of indecision and
uncertainly, the purgatory of
middle ground, waiting for
the coloring of
the Son.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, January 2, 2011,
In :
poetry
 petaled white
crowned with gold
the new year rises
and blooms
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, November 28, 2010,
In :
poetry
 Her future is a life of love with her Prince
in a castle full of servants and song
but she will never get there unless
she bites and swallows and dies
Without the evil that encircles our lives
we would have no need of rescue or
resuscitation.
We can only live and love in faith
and sleep, dreaming, of tomorrow.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, June 19, 2010,
In :
poetry
 Every summer heat needs
a cavern of cool drink,
a screened-in porch to
hold the stinging-bugs at bay,
a sanctuary to linger in,
to wait out the crisis
of summer. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, March 28, 2010,
In :
poetry
 Old words sound like waves splashing
on wooden boats, smell like wooden
floors freshly soaped, taste like chickory
coffee roasted on open wood fires,
like children waiting in one room
school houses to learn the way
their world is about to change
forever.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, March 17, 2010,
In :
poetry
 We gather together to enjoy
the feast of stories, lives, words,
poems in rhyme or not,
a long banquet spread for
hungry minds to feed
to their heart's content. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, March 13, 2010,
In :
poetry
 What will you leave behind for
those who come after you;
can you spare some very
small words printed on
some very small papers with
numbers of one and five and ten
or perhaps some silver or copper
pieces, perhaps, to purchase some
more words to leave behind?
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, March 6, 2010,
In :
poetry
 When you need to know
the world in a globe,
a library holds
the whole planet for you
to set sail, dig in, dive deep,
and explore. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, March 2, 2010,
In :
poetry
 Paperback books travel well in
and out of airports, pockets,
bathtubs, friends and acquaintances;
a portable, shareable, light-
handed carousel telling of
stories. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, February 27, 2010,
In :
poetry
Ladder-back chairs are
straight-backed for climbing
hand-over-hand,
thought-over-thought;
rungs for sturdy imaginations
to travel and keep you
in place.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, January 25, 2010,
In :
poetry
 Sometimes you need a new view,
a different angle of common things,
a window with clean glass overlooking
ordinary trees and grasses criss-crossed
with your footprints. Sometimes you need
to read old stories from new eyes. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, December 9, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Store windows twinkle,
sparkle, glitter, and glow in
the season of giving, of
shining, of singing, of
joyful rejoicing in
wonder-filled children with
sugar-plumed dreams, jingled
and prancing, a shiny red nose! Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, November 27, 2009,
In :
poetry
 a tender loving
of her young,
mother potato
shrivels herself
creating roots,
drying as she
nurses her
offspring to
life.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, November 14, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Like gifts appearing under the tree,
Christmas surprises are everywhere;
wreaths on lamp posts,
swags across Main Street,
icicle lights lining Market Square;
town begins to glitter and shine,
dressing for the holidays. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, November 2, 2009,
In :
poetry
 small town
downtown
sleepy streets
sidewalks sweep
the day
away Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, October 4, 2009,
In :
poetry
 linger on leafy lips
in large
delicious drips,
greening gulps of
rain roll to
thirsting roots
below Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, October 2, 2009,
In :
poetry
 on the porch
a dog waits
one eye earth
one eye sky
both eyes await
their Master's
return Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, September 28, 2009,
In :
poetry
 God creates beauty even
in a weed; before it wreaks
havoc, a plea for mercy.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, August 27, 2009,
In :
poetry
 The sea is not the only thing that
crawls in the breathless
summer sun, sails limp, rudders
dragging, unable to move, just
watch, just wait, just
creep beneath the heat. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, July 25, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Each stroke of
minty freshness
scrubs away sins
of a careless mouth;
God's cleansing forgivness
brightening our smiles
and freshening
our lives.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, July 22, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Cornflower sky blooms
from the earth; periwinkle
waves of moonlight in
an ocean of leaves. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, July 21, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Freedom feels so far away,
this libery draped land of
gleaming opportunty, striped
in star-spangled independence,
slipping slowly from our grasp.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, July 17, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Sometimes it seems
the older we get
the more quiet we
crave, listening
more closely
for the call to
come home.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, July 16, 2009,
In :
poetry
 a dry dark faith
a wet cool God
in between
a stone angel
prays for things with
feathers Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, July 15, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Why does the purple sage bloom
in the middle of a drought; dusty
silverleafs bursting with sweet-bee
cocktails; wild Texas Rangers
chuckling at the forecasted
deficiency of clouds; a joke held
too long inside, now ruptured into
the wavering heat? Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, July 14, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Angry trunk waving,
enough is enough;
when tomorrow comes,
you can buy more stuff.
Until it is then,
now it is stopped;
don't bother to knock,
we're not in the shop! Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, July 13, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Narrow stone walls
keep eyes moving forward;
the shining promised land
at the end of our passage. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, July 12, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Summer's bright blades
slice loose soil,
tentacle packed ground,
cushion my steps with
restful courage. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, July 8, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Cocklebur orbs
in shiny green grass;
tiny assassins;
miniscule lance. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, July 7, 2009,
In :
poetry
 In chalk flowers
and big letter,
the skip-happy pink
and blue poem of
being four years old
is how we know that
God loves joy. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, July 4, 2009,
In :
poetry
 A tractor to work,
some seed and faith
that God is good and
right is not wrong. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, June 23, 2009,
In :
poetry
(This post in response to http://highcallingblogs.com/blog/tag/random-acts-of-poetry/)
Naked isn't just
exposed or
undressed or
unclothed.
Naked isn't just
revealed or
threadbare or
bare-skinned.
Naked is a cautious
wading into a
gently lapping sea
of salt tingling
wounds.
Naked is waters welcome
covering,
wrapping about
what is
vulnerable and
loathed.
Naked is saying,
"I'm sorry."
Forgiveness is hearing,
"You're clothed."
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, June 17, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Do you know what I dreamed about
she asks from her car seat in the back
No, what?
Grandma, she says, as trees streak
past her window and asphalt speeds
away under her feet.
Grandma and my blankie, tiny fingers
grasping the white satin border of
the things that comfort her the most. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, June 14, 2009,
In :
poetry
 He brings me Bits of Honey,
a big bag full of chewy golden
goodness in red and yellow wrappers.
Reminds me that love must be
unwrapped, exposed, tasted to be
enjoyed, savored long and slow
by a delighted, grateful heart.
He brings me Bits of Honey,
a big bag full and I grow round
with all his golden sweetness. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, June 13, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Four crow bullies descend
into the trees, boasting
their threats, strutting
their taunts, jabbing
at limbs weakened by
recent storms then
caw their way back
into the sky, mostly frighting
themselves.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, June 6, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Hot tea
yes, please
in the oversized
glass-handled mug
steep and deep
dip and sip
fold my hands
around the sides
incense of
warm steam
hot tea
yes, please
the morning's
benediction
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, June 4, 2009,
In :
poetry
 In dawn's earlly light
I struggle to capture
a poem
a prayer
a peace
to begin the day. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, May 26, 2009,
In :
poetry
They're talking on the TV that
it's hurricane season
again
from June until November.
Seems like the swirling storms
have never stopped;
enormous trees of faith
uprooted,
bruising winds hurtling
away hope. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, May 22, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Writing is so much like prayer;
you must wait for the words
to form within your heart,
sit patiently and imagine
conversation
with what you cannot see. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, April 30, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Waiting feels so heavy,
so sad, somehow, not
knowing why, just a slow
simmer that never quite boils,
a lingering in limbo, a
question with no one to ask.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, April 26, 2009,
In :
poetry
 How many shades of green,
from dusty juniper to silvered birch to forest elm,
from boxwood brights to watery moss to jolly daffodils,
in four seasons and in between
watch us with their easy eyes,
their restful, sighing branches and
wonder at how many shades of skin
we walking, jogging, hurrying humans
travel in?
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, April 23, 2009,
In :
poetry
 When he was small, my father said,
he rocked along in the back seat of
a car that carried food, water, and gasoline
in the trunk;
past stretching native meadows
of blue perfume as far as his
young eyes could see,
a narrow road passing through
fields of heaven's waving scepters. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, April 22, 2009,
In :
poetry
 End of the day
tiny feet push pedals
tired hands hold steady
a young life learning
to navigate
life's dusty road. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, April 18, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Thick, spiky leaves
a sickly yellow;
spotted, drying from
the outside in;
my tangled tongueful
of hurtful words,
shadowed by a Cross. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, April 13, 2009,
In :
poetry
 This, then, is
how we live now -
with every good
and sweet
blessing in life -
His body given
to taste and enjoy -
the One from whom
all goodness flows. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, April 12, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Run!
Tell the good news!
Like a child in the sun,
Skip! with feet that are swift
and springing with joy!
Dance!
That all the world might see
the freedom holy blood has bought!
Run!
Do not be slow!
The grave is empty!
The earth alive with
Easter's elation! Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, April 11, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Maundy Thursday
Good Friday
Easter Sunday but
no name for Saturday;
no name for this
thorny grief that sweeps
and tears and bludgeons;
no name for such
sorrowful
battering of the heart
and hope.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, April 11, 2009,
In :
poetry
 The prisoners wait
the blue just beyond
the cool within reach
forgiveness and forever
draped limp upon
a guilting cross. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, April 7, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Trust is such a tiny thing,
such a wound-tight-in-hope thing,
such a feaful thing to open up
into the world;
trust is a vulnerable greenness
bursting from Winter's wood,
a heart stretched gingerly towards God,
trusting that He is good.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, April 6, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Worship is not so much words spoken,
but an attitude of the heart,
a waiting of the mind,
a silencing of the body;
it is a joyful dance within the soul
that He exists and that He loves.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, April 2, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Black wrought iron twisted and shaped
into a greeting, a house, a heart;
strength molded and formed as
a simple gift from deep within the earth
and received on my birthday,
rooted in her curly laughter,
twirling and entwining memories
of happy years together.
I keep it hanging by the back door,
friendlier than the front,
where family more than friends enter,
passing by the remembrance of
her strongly cheerful spirit.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, April 1, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Not to be eaten peeled or whole,
lemons must be sliced,
squeezed, or grated,
the bitter taste of self-control
needs sweetening for digestion;
tart strength preserving
a zest that might
otherwise be wasted.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, March 31, 2009,
In :
poetry
 The smell of pink
is a sweet perfume with
a touch of spice;
strong and delicate
all at once;
an intoxication to
boyish bees buzzed
with pink's allure.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, March 30, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Simple, round, all-seasonal grapes
are tender pop-and-eat fruits;
easy, requiring little effort to savor
the seductive gentleness that ferments
into a heady wine; inviting a leisured
afternoon in the shade of their
climbing, curling vines.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, March 27, 2009,
In :
poetry
 No guile in the banana,
what you see is what you eat,
raw-green or over-ripe brown,
these yellowing sickle-shaped
truth-tellers grow in
encouraging bunches atop
waving stalks of faithfulness. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, March 24, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Apples require some cold weather,
some fortitude to scale their branches,
sink strong teeth into these honest
fruits of integrity, savoring the reward that
determined goodness brings.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, March 23, 2009,
In :
poetry
 A friendly kiss of kindness,
strawberries bear their seeds on the outside,
hearts on their sleeves,
tip their little green caps to passersby,
stems reaching out to form
compassionate handles of
sympathetic sharing.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, March 19, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Nothing much, I hear her say
and feel her smile at the
funeral home's metal grave marker
still there one year later.
Just the way she would have wanted it,
modest,
quiet,
next to her son,
a humble life of huge faith
marked simply and with dignity.
Harvest flowers and a scarecrow
still bright into the Spring,
drying stems of flowers
left long ago and one
empty-handed friend who came
just to remember. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, March 15, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Pock-marked orange requires
patience to open; its careful
but deliberate peeling needs
a strong hand; hast will
ruin the sunshine-flavored segments;
this calm fruit rolls easily
wherever it travels, a wheel
within a sphere. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, March 13, 2009,
In :
poetry
Blanketey-soft sun-blushed skin
quietly breaks with little resistance to
reveal a peaceful sweetness
all its own; peaches grow on
smallish trees, easy to
reach for children who suck
its large stone-seed,
carry in their pockets a
promise to plant.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, March 11, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Pink juicy drips from red-happy fruit,
watermelon grins on sticky chins,
smiling green rind left behind;
black seeds dribble to the ground
sprout trailing vines that tickle the earth,
grow round and happy with joy. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, March 7, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Round-bottomed, slender-necked,
sun-browned skin, Bosque pears rock
gently together in their shared bowl,
soft-sweet love fruit leaves a strong core
to be planted and grown deep in good soil;
a wholesome white-flowering harvest.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, February 26, 2009,
In :
poetry
When I am sick,
it's hard to pray;
I feel most like
a withered limb
to Him,
still attached
but useless;
the pain of separation
far greater than
the pain that I
endure.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, February 19, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Thick sweetness caught me as
I rounded the corner, a mass
of white blooms waving
on slender stalks, an invitation
to inhale Spring's promise
and believe.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, February 15, 2009,
In :
poetry
 I treasure nothing more than
the words he gives to me,
horde them like riches,
hide them like jewels,
carry them like secrets in my heart
where no one else can see,
live out of his good love,
all the days of my life. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, February 12, 2009,
In :
poetry
 What appears to be a tangled mass of
stripped, stunted, empty branches is
really us, all growing from the same root,
in the same soil, breathing the same air;
all awaiting our resurrection budding when
our nakedness will be clothed and
the tangles of our lives become a
beautiful, breathing canopy of green.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, February 9, 2009,
In :
poetry
 In this droughted landscape,
wind fills the air with dust,
stings the eyes that strain
to see an end in sight. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, February 1, 2009,
In :
poetry
  I ask Ella Rose how old is Jesus and
without hesitation,
she holds up her fingers:
one, two, three.
She knows that Jesus snuggles
in her arms when she rocks her dolls,
warms her with pink, princess fleece,
and agrees with her that spinach is yuck.
They enjoy a close relationship in
the shared experiences of a lifetime. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, January 31, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Deep mysteries at twilight;
a quiet romance at sunrise;
hungering for stories,
we live from one line to
the next, wondering
what pathos or glee
He will write
on to our pages...
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, January 26, 2009,
In :
poetry
Working late into the night,
I feel myself begin to slump,
to slide, chin in my hands,
elbows to my knees,
knees to the floor.
Seems the princess is now
a pumpkin, once again,
slumbering under a
starry sky, round and
seeded with dreams.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, January 24, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Born from deep within the Earth,common carbon pressurized,
diamonds have no intrinsic value
except in the eyes of those
who see in their translucent depths
the full spectrum of colors,
the sparkling reflection of the Son,
the most unconquerable substance
in all the world.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, January 21, 2009,
In :
poetry
A history making day,
I prayed, that God,
through Christ,
would love our nation,
forgive our sins,
show mercy to us all.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, January 18, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Harsh stillness,
abrasive winds,
dulling skies;
inside me is
a fire, a robe,
a feast of words
to warm my heart,
waiting out the storm
with my Savior;
counting down the
icicles that hang
outside.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, January 16, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Cold seals the windows
wind bolts the doors
sun hangs a gray
half mast all day;
nothing else for it
but to sleep it off.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, January 11, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Winter's deep cold
invites Sabbath rest;
strands of icy pearls
drape thin twig arms;
God says
wait
listen
freeze.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, January 6, 2009,
In :
poetry
 In the place where the lumps fit
the bumps of my body,
where the ceiling fan
is white noise,
the pillow cases smell
of his after shave and
the wedding quilt warms
my cold feet;
waits my home,
waits my warm,
waits my bed.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Monday, January 5, 2009,
In :
poetry
 Maybe life is like a clock;
periodically a painful winding
followed by days of
measured steadiness,
the peaceful heartbeat of
quietly passing time. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, January 2, 2009,
In :
poetry
God fills the silence of a new year
with Himself; draws me to Him;
sunlight slanting down
into the darkness;
breezes shimmering
the water's face,
a small fish peers towards
the wavering surface of
a world he cannot breathe. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, December 30, 2008,
In :
poetry
 it's not too scary, reaching back,
pulling old friends into the future;
feels like rocking chairs on the porch,
like a favorite pair of houseshoes
or a room that stayed just the way
you left it, now filled with
exciting new treasures. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, December 28, 2008,
In :
poetry
Dying without Chist feels
like falling off this swirling planet,
the gravity belt loosening,
midnight darkness fills the eyes
and gleaming far-off stars
become empty hurling rocks
unable to reflect the Son.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, December 27, 2008,
In :
poetry
 tiny ghost of Christmas past
hangs quietly in my tree,
views the celebration,
papers scattered, stockings emptied,
wonders at how we've aged
and how she's stayed the same.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, December 26, 2008,
In :
poetry
 in the silent night after the labor
hear the night's quiet breathing
wonder at the world's blessing
feel the worship of heaven.
tomorrow, all things created and creating
will be new. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, December 20, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Santa Claus is for children who
believe without seeing and
hope against all odds;
who give with joy,
receive with enthusiasm,
never question their worthiness,
and whose dreams are filled
with his coming.
Santa Claus reminds me that
little children receive the
kingdom of heaven while
wise men only visit,
then leave.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, December 18, 2008,
In :
poetry
 What made the wise men wise
was not their knowledge of
books or stars, but
the kneeling,
pleading
desire to lift
their empty wanting palms
in worship to their King. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, December 13, 2008,
In :
poetry
 When the days are
rushed and pushed with
DO and WHEN and NOW,
prayers go inside me,
muted pleadings in my heart,
heard only by the Spirit
of God's quiet, listening ears.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, December 10, 2008,
In :
poetry
Winter tumbles into town like
a wild-eyed herd of cowboys
fresh off the long, empty plains,
stampeding plastic poinsettias
with chilly-wind bravados
and scattering toy soldiers
with six-shooting sleet. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, December 9, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Swaddled, sheltered, bound,
holy family wrapped in palms
an oasis of wonder in a desert of dust. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Sunday, December 7, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Sunrise blooms a
silken palette of pink and gold,
spreads the bright mercy of
another day's forgivness to
the prodigal child,
invited to begin again. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, December 6, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Evergreen hedge of little apples,
firethorn's bright berries ripen in
autumn and thrive in drought.
When the heart is most dry,
tiny temptations to taste and eat
leave firey stings to scold the
evergreen hedge of memory. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, December 4, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Silver Santa saltshaker
shines in winter sunlight;
sprinkles the season's
supplications with joy.
Colossians 4:6 Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, December 3, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Houseplants grow
dependant on humans
to water, transplant, and
befriend; helpless but
to turn and watch
God's shadow pass.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, December 2, 2008,
In :
poetry
Only in the dark,
only in the dim
gloom of suffering
can Light be seen,
at the end of the tunnel,
in the crack in the door,
in the manger bed,
the promise of hope.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, November 29, 2008,
In :
poetry
Sunset begs us to believe
in the dawn, as bird shell melts
into azure and deepens into
indigo, so our faith is built
in stages, colors melting,
blending into the dark.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Friday, November 28, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Orange or pale,
elongated or engorged,
a family of squash
grown from the dirt
watered and warmed alike
by their green-thumbed
Gardner who has a knack
for growing vegetables. Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, November 27, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Cockeyed Popeye
sees the world through
just one lens while
birds twitter out of reach and
quick mice dart the other way,
sprawls at my feet,
a humming mass of
warm gratitude
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, November 26, 2008,
In :
poetry
 I would not like
to leave this life
without having savored
that dark dreamy bliss
spreading through my mouth,
right before I swallow.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Tuesday, November 25, 2008,
In :
poetry
 Chained by guilt,
I find my way to
anchored mercy
grasping links
of forgiveness.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Saturday, November 22, 2008,
In :
poetry
 heavy and gray
caught in stone
salvation sparkles
waits
hangs
a talisman of hope
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Thursday, November 20, 2008,
In :
poetry
 On love's
heart-shaped pavers,
I fix my steps
across the earth
into the garden.
Continue reading ...
Posted by Sally Clark on Wednesday, November 19, 2008,
In :
poetry
Scrambling through
life's maze I pray
for thick brick walls
to block my path
as I pass
through corridors
of choices.
Continue reading ...
|
Every day has a poem. I watch, I listen, I think, I pray. When I hear a poem, I write it down. Sometimes I find a picture that illustrates the day. I am always surprised. I hope you will be, too.
A writer of many genres, Sally Clark loves living in a small town with her husband where their grown children and five grandchildren all live within walking distance. Crowded with relationships, busy with activities, Sally takes refuge on the balcony of their old Victorian house - the perfect place to pen her thoughts.
Visit Sally's web site at: www.sallyclark.info
Contact Sally at: auslande@ktc.com
or follow Sally on Twitter.
Writers information site: www.christwriters.info. |
