My Ink Is Drying Up

My ink is drying up and my pen no longer writes smooth                                                This just can't happen now, to many thoughts I will loose                                      Fading away this old body, still more to write, to be heard                                         My memories and precious images are becoming a bit blurred

My hand shakes, the paper gets wrinkled as I write so fast                                                But I must write quickly while the thoughts in there still last                                       Some verses, as I write I laugh, often things were very funny                                        Then the sad things, my tears make the ink blurred and runny

So pass my writings down to every family child that arrives           Never just store them away in some back room archives                                            May the pages look well read, the corners torn and tattered                                                It will be a way of telling me, to you my poems mattered


Author Eileen Clark

Image ~ tattered pages on a old book of poems – Google Search

google.com

Listening Lion

The sun is setting making the land a yellowish gold  

 A lion blending in with the fields and strikingly bold

Lifts his head up sniffing and listening for signs of prey

A tasty meal would be just perfect at the end of his day

Author Eileen Clark  2022

Beautiful Lion Image: thewildlifeindia.com

The Clock

I heard my Mother say last night
The clock is running fast
This puzzled me cause there it stood
Just where I'd seen it last
She also said "it broke a hand
in falling on it's face"
This puzzled me still more because
It didn't show a trace
Of hand or foot or anything
Alive that I could see
The things my Mother says at times
Are odd as odd could be

Author Vere Dargan

One of my favorite poems in the books my mom read from to my two brothers and me. The New Wonder World 1939