by Patrice Clarkson | Mar 15, 2013 | Poetry
Winter’s cold can be a blight Forcing sensitive to be uptight Shivering, shaking lost control Looking for a soft, warm cozy hole. Howling wind does not let up Whipping tender Devouring them up. Sun is bright but freezing cold Touching frost With icicles dripping...
by Patrice Clarkson | Aug 28, 2012 | Poetry
Merry, happiness, frustration and pain All have a place in this house I claim None are all that places me here Some more than others Thats what I hear. Work thru and challenge heartache, despair None of which need to live here. Open the door to the house I call mine...