it is to be savored like a seabreeze-whispereddream...in the mysteriousblue minutesbefore dawnlike a secretinfatuation.... like slowlanguorous sipsof green tea... like a lingeringglimpsea self-wrappedparadiselike his name upon my lips.
Back BurnerPut the stress on the back burnerIt only burns its way backPut your thoughts on the futureand it becomes the past..."excerpt from my poem Back Burner from The Poetic Diary of Love and Change - Volume 1©Clarissa O. Clemens
Letters are meaningless unless put together correctly. Words are worthless unless backed by truth. Sentences are handed out and judged accordingly, but only genuinely honest men or women can create writings that change the world forever.
I will meet you on the nape of your neck one day, on the surface of intention, word becoming act.We will breathe into each other the high mountain tales, where the snows come from, where the waters begin.”-In the yellow time of pollen
Wordsare powerfulforces of nature.they are destruction.they are nourishment. they are flesh. they are water.they are flowers and bone.they burn. they cleansethey erase. they etch. they can eitherleave youfeelinghomelessor brimmingwith home.
we are all like poems. some of us rhyme. some don’t. some are Pulitzer prizessome are just scribblesand yet, we all possessa special kind of beautythat can either heal or cut to the boneone that can never quitebe fathomed, nor forgotten.
And like nectar inside the bud,my blood drinks from your blood, beloved,and starves to join the salvation in your eyes;to be understood again and again, by your nakedness and certainty, a humbleness that trickles into the crevices of my seasoned mind.
I am a convinced believer that nothing is "as it is", but it is something that "can become", or we can make out of, if we put faith in our inner resources and feelings to bring the right impetus to the driving wheels of our lives’ mechanism. (Soar)
In hundreds of years of wish fulfillment,never once to the demon’s bereavement,had a wish gone unable to be yielded.It was love this day, which defeated the curse,and there in Hell there was little worse,than the dark forces of evil gone unwielded.
Love, bemysticalas the flickering blue flameof nightas the fully-awokenmoonbeneath cobwebsof passing cloudsamidst chantinghigh-tidesfuzzy,as my blanketbig enough to illuminate a hundredthousand billion galaxiesand just small enough to fitinto my embrace.
Auguries of innocence"It is right it should be so;Man was made for joy and woe;And when this we rightly know,Thro' the world we safely go.Joy and woe are woven fine,A clothing for the soul divine.Under every grief and pineRuns a joy with silken twine.
I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is groundUpon my flesh t'inflict another wound.Yet dare I not complain, or wish for deathWith holy Paul; lest it be thought the breathOf discontent; or that these prayers beFor weariness of life, not love of thee.
I am a baby, I am a child, I am the innocent wonder in my eyes I am a glimpse, I am a sign, of someone I can be, someone I might I am not one, I am not two, but I am a million things entwined I am a piece, I am a slice, strung together by the yarns of time.
