KRISTA S CLARK - POEMS
Krista is an emerging writer who is inspired by her life experiences as well as her desire to encourage and inspire others. Her main goal is to establish herself as a respected author amongst her critics and her peers, mainly as a rhyming poet. She takes great pride in being a Grandmother, giving a voice to the unborn and volunteers her time for many issues such as Melanoma & Breast Cancer Awareness, just to name a few.
I stumbled upon some mud today, while making memories, with my new best friend.
His fondness for cold, wet dirt, just never seems to come to an end.
Squishy feelings arose in my heart, as we rolled around vicariously.
He might be small, but he is quick; he followed me, right up a tree!
Mommy's probably gonna be mad, that we've made ourselves into such a mess.
What do you expect from a COUNTRY GIRL; I wouldn't be caught in a clean dress!
Someday I'll look back on this day, and laugh uncontrollably.
If not for times like this, how could I write poetry?
Challenge a seemingly never-ending, unfathomable journey. Gaze extremely vividly,
beyond rims of a suspicious, smile.
Sashe ever so cautiously, questioning every curve.
Never lift concentration albeit a mere blink of a split second.
Peer amidst bright boisterous poppies and beaming rays of sunshine.
Ignore luscious scents of fragrant, lavendar lilacs.
Sprint towards glistening, gleaming traces of light.
Thrust abruptly with unhumanlike force against nature.
Dive into the desolate solitude of darkness.
Burst the unrepairable, never before seen, crimson seal.
Scale gigantic walls constructed of vicious, poisonous reptiles, seeking their next victims.
Rise above rapid flames like a magnificent phoenix experiencing its first flight.
Extinguish unbearably fierce, billowing heat.
Navigate hesitantly on narrow, spiky, misleading paths.
Trample through deep, dark, bone chilling dungeons.
Breathe profusely into the swollen lips of a limp, lifeless body.
Reveal the TRUE COLORS of a wretched, almost unreachable, dying, abandoned soul.
The years have passed so quickly,
Since you left me standing here.
What happened to you Daddy?
You traded my love. For the taste of beer.
Your addiction led your life,
And suddenly, you were alone.
Your drinking destroyed us all,
And kept our house from being a home.
I'll never know the reasons you distanced yourself from me.
Only tears can find me now, as I seek help, from powers that be.
I remember as a family,
we gathered by the lake.
To swim, ski and picnic, until the dawn would break.
Proud am i of what your life, turned out later to be.
You became my HERO, Daddy, the day you set the alcohol free.
I will always be your little princess, even though you've gone away.
Heaven is your home now,
And in my heart, you'll stay!
Fog vibrantly rolls in as DARKNESS begins to overtake the light.
Briskly grasping to hold on to the warmth of the sunshine before the moon begins to take flight.
Chilling howls can be heard amongst the brunt blowing of the wind.
Desperately seeking tranquility before the day abruptly comes to an end.
Trees hauntingly disappearing as grey skies gradually turn to solid black.
Twinkling stars quickly fill the sky as if the world is under attack.
Moon hesitantly rising, casting sparkling diamonds upon the sea.
Fearless am I, for I am not alone; securely protected by powers that be.
THE WHITE PICKET FENCE
I would like to introduce you, to my befuddled muse.
She helps release pent up emotions, by telling about the horrors of domestic abuse.
Although you cannot see her, trust me, she is there.
Appearing unexpectedly, whenever the pains far too much, to bare.
Tragedy struck my life extremely early, while still developing in the womb.
For Daddy did not want me to ever dwell, inside this abusive home.
He too had his problems, fighting demons that refused to flee.
Unfortunately the disease he fought was cast upon him, by so called, powers that be.
Drowning his sorrows in alcohol, tragically ripped our family apart.
Our poor mother suffered at his hands, before my life could even get a start.
Haunted by my earliest memories, practically every single day.
If my creator truly loved me, how come the darkness, never seems to go astray?
Gripping onto the rails attached to the staircase, I witnessed my mother's demise.
Helplessly seeking answers, to try to keep her frail spirit alive.
Wondering still today, if Mama knows just how proud I am, of her.
For she gathered up beastly strength, and kicked him straight to the cold, concrete curb .
It was the end to living in the house, with THE WHITE PICKET FENCE .
Leaving me still today, inquisitively wondering, if it will ever, make any kind of sense.
Don't cry for me, just yet, for there's much more of my story to tell.
For this was the beginning to saving my father's soul, so he would not spend eternity, burning in Hell.
Leave a Reply.