My literary musings and creations
I am far behind
on my opportunities to use
those three words
so often thought, infrequently heard
I find myself wishing
for one more hour
with my parents
wishing I could go back with
my kids back to a younger age
to make up the deficit there
to listen a few moments to a friend
when I didn’t have the time
and my wife to whom
I can never say enough
I love you
The yard looked stunning yesterday.
When I finished mowing,
I trimmed round the roses,
headed the geraniums,
and walked to the street to look back on my work.
The house, as grey as
springtime fog,
with sage green shutters
was trimmed in gold by the brush of afternoon sun;
all now just a memory.
My yard is there, somewhere
beneath a pile of
cars, shingles, fence posts,
the house an open dance floor,
no orchestra in sight.
Perched like a giant bird
in the stub of a tree,
my refrigerator still holds yesterday’s leftovers
and eggs for today’s breakfast,
forever scrambled.
From a shredded branch of a magnolia tree
a mockingbird sings his joy:
for the bright sunshine,
for living another day.
I nod and sigh,
and a hesitant smile swells from deep within me
as I must,
in spite of everything,
join his celebration.
I am an ambassador from Nutopia
And proudly fly our pure white flag
My heart often yearns to go home again
So in dreams I visit and dwell without fear.
But there are no roads to take me there,
There are no armies, no treasures anyone would want.
And we all get along and let all have a life.
Defenders collect aggressors who threaten their essence.
Why do so many hold in their hearts
Hatred and avarice, intemperance, greed?
My thanks to John* for inviting me there
To a homeland sans strife bringing peace to my soul.
So I dream of that day, of that glorious day
When I can go home.
Hal C Clark – Sept, 2010
*John Lennon
I don’t know how many John Lennon fans are in this group, but one thing he was dedicated to was peace. Nutopia was a mythical land of his imagination, and it is a place I would like to visit, if not live. I can never understand why people must hate each other but I feel it must be based on greed, selfishness, or insecurity. I feel sorry for people who do not have the capacity to love unconditionally, as God loves us. He loves us no matter what we do. In that, we can be truly thankful.
So many gods, so many creeds
So many paths that wind and wind
While just the art of being kind
Is all this sad world needs
Coexist
We recently visited the temporary 9/11 Memorial in New York City and were haunted by what we saw there. Across the street they are building the permanent memorial and you can sometimes hear the sounds of construction.
A few minutes earlier we had been in the small church a block away from the World Trade Center buildings that had acted as the first trauma center, helping victims find medical help. It had been partly covered in debris from the collapse of the buildings, debris that took almost a year to completely clean up.
Here in the memorial are twisted beams and recovered shoes and combs and other personal items (including cell phones). In the basement is a bulletin board where the staff posts the comments of visitors from many lands who visit the memorial. Among the comments I found the above poem and copied it down. I don’t know who wrote it but it carries a brief but powerful message that resonated with me. It is a poem I wish I had written.
We will long remember the event, but unless we stand in that place and feel what the victims must have experienced, we have missed the most important part. We don’t have to hate each other. We will never all agree on anything, but we can agree to respect each other’s lives and grant each other the choices that God grants to all of us. Until that happens, we will continue to hurt and be hurt.
Today I planted both my feet
On Gettysburg’s broad, grassy hills
Where Mister Lincoln once had stood
To speak of deeds both brave and bold,
To honor men now buried there
Who fought for what men dare to seek:
The freedom and the liberty
To chose a way in which to live.
What thoughts were there in Lincoln’s mind
As he looked out upon that field
At circles of the myriad graves,
And knowing what his hand had caused?
But in his heart he knew ’twas true,
The value of our nation’s light:
Our constitution’s guarantee
Of rights for each and every man.
Is this the cause to make a man
Resort to killing other men?
Is there not any other way
To solve our petty differences?
The sadness in the spoils of war
Surely lived in Mister Lincoln’s heart
As he looked upon thousands of graves
Of men whose lives exist no more.
Hal C Clark
July, 2010
On July 1st and 2nd, we were in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania touring part of the battlefield and some of the museums connected with the battle. This was the anniversary date of the battle (July 1-3, 1863) and lots of people were about. I especially wanted to see the National Cemetery that President Lincoln dedicated on that November afternoon (November 19, 1863).
The markers were arranged in semicircles and as many were marked as they could identify, either by name or by the area they came from. It is a quiet place with lots of space and trees for shade. I sat there for a while, trying to imagine that day.
History records 51,000 casualties there in those three days: 8,000 killed on the battlefield, 6,000 more died soon after from their wounds, others taken prisoner, some unaccounted for.
Later I went to a house in town where President Lincoln spent the night and prepared the final draft of his address. The featured speaker was Edward Everett, a noted speaker of that time who spoke for about two hours. When he was finished, the President stepped up. He had been invited as an afterthought, to give a “few appropriate remarks.”
I have included a copy to the address in this post. As you may notice, President Lincoln had a very concise and complete way of speaking, saying more with these few words than Edward Everett had with all of his (By his own admission).
As always, I would appreciate your visit and your comments.
Executive Mansion,
Washington, , 186 .
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that “all men are created equal”
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who died here, that the nation might live. This we may, in all propriety do. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow, this ground– The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have hallowed it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here; while it can never forget what they did here.
It is rather for us, the living, to stand here, we here be dedica-ted to the great task remaining before us — that, from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here, gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve these dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people by the people for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Abraham Lincoln, Draft of the Gettysburg Address: Nicolay Copy. Transcribed and annotated by the Lincoln Studies Center, Knox College, Galesburg, Illinois. Available at Abraham Lincoln Papers at the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division (Washington, D.C.: American Memory Project, [2000-02]),
She’s not very tall and
She’s probably nine,
She looks up at me
And I see the first sign
Of a smile on her face.
It starts as a grin,
Then it moves to her eyes,
As wrinkles form thin
Little lines in the corners
And across her small nose.
I wink and she laughs,
Thinks I’m strange I suppose.
She and her mommy
Go on down the aisle
And then round the corner,
So I shop for a while
Through the cereal boxes,
Then, from a yellow-box cave
I see two smiling eyes
And a small, timid wave.
Hal C. Clark
May, 2010
Being a retired elementary teacher, I enjoy the interaction with kids wherever I am, and this is often at the grocery store. I get different reactions to a smile or a funny face. Mom is usually comparing prices or engaged in other serious endeavors and the child is looking for any kind of distraction. This poem is a playful treatment of such an encounter.
We are on the road and have had a busy ten or so days – In Newport, PA for an autoharp gathering and workshop; in Gettysburg Pa for July first and second (the date of the beginning of the Battle of Gettysburg), and then to Washington DC for Independence Day. I have missed my writing time and blogging time and I apologize for the long time between posts. I will try to do better. I am currently working on two poems, one of them concerning Gettysburg and Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address which I also plan to post on this blog. As always, thanks for visiting my blog and I hope you will post a response.
The more I give away, the more I gain,
Like bread loaves in a basket, without end,
Love flows to me and cannot be contained.
The more I give away, the more I gain.
My heart so fills with peace from love’s refrain
That souls around me can but comprehend.
The more I give away, the more I gain,
Like bread loaves in a basket, without end.
Hal C Clark
May 2010
A triolet is an eight line poem in which the first line repeats as the fourth and seventh lines and the second line repeats as the eighth. The rhyming pattern is abaaabab. It looked like an interesting form and I had an idea for a short poem, so I tried it.
The “bread loaves” of course refers to the feeding of the 5000. I find in my life I find myself so filled with God’s love that I overflow to others. If you are filled with love, you can’t contain it all and it will find a way out.
Enough preaching, I suppose. I do enjoy exploring new ideas and would appreciate your comments any time. I appreciate those who read my poems and comments.
One final note: We went to see “Letters to Juliet” today and it was refreshing to see, in our world of violent and senseless movies, a warm fuzzy movie. I really liked it.
Her ling’ring smile calls out to say
“My hope is running wan and thin.”
His eyes show pain in pleading tears
For someone’s arms to shelter in.
Their houses sit as rubble piles,
Their water in roadside pools,
But what can I, one person, do
With resources minuscule?
So, what if life would now be changed,
If I should be there, not here?
What tiny act of humankind
Would help calm my daily fear?
If I can manage one small part,
To do whatever I can,
I’ll build a bridge from me to them.
For all of us, hope is God’s plan.
I’ll save some pennies, cull my clothes,
Serve meals to those without homes,
Read books to those who cannot see,
Tend aged with brush and comb.
Oh, I am known by many names
In my harried, hurried day,
But my real name is compassion,
And I cannot turn away!
Hal C Clark – March, 2010
This poem started as an exercise from the book “Poemcrazy” by Susan G. Wooldridge, and I decided to develop the idea. If you are not familiar with this book, I highly recommend you check it out. It tells the story of how she developed as a poet.
Anyway, I wrote this because I believe each of us should do his or her part in helping others. It doesn’t have to be expensive, and it benefits both the receiver and the giver.
My wife and I sponsor (through World Vision) three 10-11 year old girls, all from areas where HIV/AIDS is a major problem. One is from Mauritania, Africa; one is from Rwanda, Africa; and one is from the Dominican Republic, near the area of the earthquake. The money each month helps improve conditions for the girl and her family, and makes it more likely that she can continue her education. The other part I like is writing letters to the girls, encouraging them and asking questions about their families, country, etc. It’s great to get their replies and watch their progress.
Greg Mortensen started a program years ago of building schools for the children in Afghanistan and he gets money for his foundation partially from the “Pennies for Peace” program in which school kids in the US bring spare change from home and drop it in a container. This program has raised a lot of money and helped to build 31 schools in the sparsely populated areas of Afghanistan. The people of these communities supplied the labor and the good will, and Greg has done more to bring peace to these people that all the politicians in Washington.
In our own United States, many children get only one or two meals a day during the summer (School programs help during the school year) a problem improved by local food banks. The purchase of one or two extra canned items on each trip to the grocery, and donated to the local food bank could make a big difference over a year.
We have all kinds of government programs to solve all kinds of problems, but I believe what really makes the world work is the compassionate acts of individual citizens working quietly behind the scenes. God bless all the givers!
When bright new earth begins to warm and brown,
Frost’s exit can no longer he forestall.
The tender leaf seeks sun and roots reach down,
And whispered breath of spring gives life to all.
Then comes a flight of robins, as a sign
That surely earth’s renewal is at hand.
Begin the celebration, so divine,
Of rainbow colors spilled o’er all the land.
But why display a splendid show like this
When bird and flower, nothing they will gain?
Humans alone can recognize the bliss
Which our creator, for us, doth ordain.
Spring holds a promise for all of the earth
Of life and beauty, and ne’er ending birth.
Hal C Clark – April, 2010
I’ve wanted to try a sonnet and I finally made the leap. As you probably know, the sonnet has a definite structure of 14 lines, 10 syllables per line, with a set rhyming pattern. I found it’s tough to fit it all in, but here it is.
I’m always amazed at all the drama in the early spring when all the flowers explode in color so wondrous to the eye. I know the color is supposed to be to attract pollinators, but in truth, insects are the only significant pollinators, and their sight is primarily in the ultraviolet spectrum, so they don’t truly see the color in the visible spectrum. Birds are brightly colored for the purpose of mating, but sound plays an equal role in the process. Less brilliant colors might be as effective.
So, what is the purpose for our colorful renewal in springtime? I think it is God’s reminder to us of His promise of everlasting rebirth and life. Just like the rainbow, He provides us with a visual reminder of His promises to us. I hope this poem reflects that presence. Have a glorious springtime!
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.
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