Archive for April, 2010




We find what we are looking for

     I’ve very often heard it said,

I look in my life’s travel bag

     And try to find a common thread.

A snarl

A wrinkle

A big furrowed frown

A screeching challenge in the street

Pink combat boots

A shy fragment of a smile

Trash scattered

Tall weeds

The fragile golden goblet of a daffodil

A child and her mother, hand-in-hand

A blaring horn

A tiny, sky-blue butterfly

I see what I have packed away

     And vow to choose more carefully,

For what I want to take along

     Is all the earth’s fair pageantry

My heart fills up and brightens when

     I, through my senses, understand

My living God’s bold symphony,

     As scored by His loving hand.

The fragments that we hear and see

      Are part of a much broader fare

And beauty can be found in all

     If we but seek to find it there.

Hal C Clark, April 2010

This poem wrote easily at first, when I thought I knew what I wanted to say. The list after the first stanza contained some good things and some bad things in it. When I finished what I thought was the last stanza, it seemed incomplete. What was missing? The item that puzzled me most was the pink combat boots. I still don’t know where that came from, but I like it.

As I thought about those boots, it occurred to me that they might be a symbol of women standing up for themselves and their rights, as more and more women are willing to do today. With that in mind, I looked at the other items and found that, if I tried climbing out of my limited viewpoint, all of them could be positive. That was when I found the last stanza that tied all things together into a bigger, all-knowing view. If God can find the positives in all of creation, shouldn’t I at least try?

Well, isn’t that why we write: To try our best to understand our world, and then share our understanding with others? What makes my blogging such a positive experience for me is the supportive environment I have found among the blogs I visit. Among bloggers, I have found support for the two needs of all humankind: validation and dignity. If we have those two roses, we can deal with whatever thorns find their way into our lives.



White Flash and Rumble play at tag

While Wind gives chase to both of them.

Tormented trees contend the fray

By swinging with their long-armed limbs.

Like a great percussive symphony,

Their roughhouse play shakes earth and sky,

And many of God’s creatures here

Can find no place to keep them dry.

Drops like liquid bullets dash

Against the crystal window pane,

And tiny rivulets retreat

To find their way back home again.

Flash and Rumble play their game;

Down the road they shake the air.

Wind transforms to gentle breeze

To tease at Willow’s long green hair.

Quiet tears of raindrops stay,

Sad from being shunned by Wind.

A faint moon shines to comfort them

‘Till all is quiet once again.

Hal C Clark – March, 2010

This is a playful poem that came to me after a stormy day. They seemed to me to be rowdy characters engaged in active play, wreaking chaos, then going someplace else. I guess this could be a poem for children. Anyway, enjoy and tell me what you think.

Silver Angel

Silver Angel

Her frame bent like the cane she trusts,

The weight of years then bows her head,

In shuffling shoes she creeps along,

The squinted eyes cast toward her bed.

No daughter’s touch guides shaky steps,

No children’s laughter cheers her face,

The silent roar of nothingness

Dwells with her in this dark place.

But count the keen lost memories,

The golden grace her soul must hide,

And never share the tales of loving

Life when she was once a bride.

No diamond crown or noble court

Reserved for woman such as this,

’till God’s bright welcoming embrace

Shall bring her home to glorious bliss.

Hal C Clark – March, 2010

I was in a grocery store one day when I noticed an elderly lady pushing a shopping cart who seemed to be alone. She was using the cart for support and moving slowly. The lines of this poem began forming in my mind.

When I got home I wrote down my ideas and began putting them together. I have no idea of this lady’s circumstances, but this is the image my mind produced. In our fast-paced society, we are not always aware of the needs of our seniors, who try to maintain some dignity in spite of their handicaps.

It isn’t pleasant to be forced to ask for favors from others. I try to remain aware of the people around me (as, I am sure, all writers do) and make myself available whenever it is called for. But I must remind myself to allow them their space so they can feel that sense of independence. It is an important balance.

That Morning


That Morning

Early on that Sunday Morning

As grey dawn broke in the east,

Came the angels to the garden

Where the Lord did rest in peace,

Put their shoulders to the stone

That nestled to protect Him there.

Removed the cloth from off His face,

Stroked his cheek and smoothed his hair.

“‘Tis time, my Lord, to wake yourself.

God sends His love, calls you to be

Sitting at His right-hand side

To dwell there for eternity.”

On Jesus’ face, the sweetest smile

Appeared, to light his countenance,

With mem’ry of His purpose there:

To bring salvation’s covenant.

The glory of that Easter morn

Lies in the emptiness they found:

An empty tomb, a folded shroud,

As souls, emptied of sin, abound!

Hal C Clark – April 2010

On Easter morning in our church, we read that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary and Salome went to Jesus’ tomb at sunrise to care for His body. When they arrived, the tomb was empty. It made me wonder what might have happened earlier that morning. The idea for this poem came to me and I wrote it out in less than an hour.

I had never thought about the sweetness of that event, but I love the idea of a time shared between Jesus and the angels at the instant of his awakening. The idea is strictly from my own imagination, but it is the way I see it. A glorious Easter to all!

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