My Poems

That Glorious Sound

Every kid loves to hear that glorious sound                                                                                 The crack that echoes around the playground                                                                                             A young boy just swung his tightly gripped bat                                                                             Like lightning he runs leaving behind his blue hat

Right off  it's a home run for this newly formed team                                                       Friends shouting, hardly believing what they've just seen                                               Running past each base we can hear this young lads dreams                                                        Hey dad, someday I'm going to be on the big league teams

Author Eileen Clark 2023

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My Poems


There's no greater place that I would want to be                                                                                                                  Then the beautiful bluegrass state of  Kentucky                                                                                                        Miles and miles of painted white rolling fences                                                                                                                       Early morning mist hovering over the green hills                                                                                                                        Well groomed horses ready to run for the thrills 

Fancy carriages pulled by beauties strutting their stuff                                                                                                           One ride, two rides, three rides, it’s never quite enough                                                                                                      Fifteen distillery’s in the big city’s or in small urban                                                                                                                     Some rum some gin but the bragger is the bourbon

Maker’s Mark, Heaven Hill, Four Roses and Jim Beam                                                                                                              Besides the horses and hats, this is every jockey’s dream                                                                                                     Every season to me at least seems just about right                                                                                                                          Summer and spring  has it’s warmth in which I delight

Winter is cold and  crisp with a little bit of snow                                                                                                                                    Quickly it's gone making room for the bluegrass to grow                                                                                                                               Fall is the best and my favorite leaving no room for debates                                                                                                              It last longer and is more colorful than any of the other states

One last thing least I forget, do this so you'll have no regrets                                                                                                You bought the hats, drank the booze, possibly ran up some debts                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Now that you've had fun and made all the rounds                                                                                                                    Please buy that winning ticket at Churchill Downs!

Author Eileen Clark

My Paintings

Digging To China

The Summers were hot in the suburbs of our city,   We had a small sandy yard, a few toys and a kitty.                                          It was just me and my brother ages four and six,                                             We tried to dig to China with a shovel and some sticks.

Into the hole my brother presses down his ear,                                                  Be quiet little sister for I am trying to hear.                                             Running to mom shouting, I hear people talking,                                                      Dig further down son, you might see them walking.

How grand our mother was, able to keep us entertained,                               Though times were hard, we never heard her complain.                                           My children live in luxury with every electronic game,                                          If I told them to dig to China, they'd think I was insane.

Author Eileen Clark 2022

This poem has a lot of truth in it, we actually spent hours digging a hole in our back yard and listening for voices. My brother Dickie who I called Red because he had red curly hair, was positive he heard Chinese people talking and had me convinced. He also really saw the Easter bunny take a bite out of the carrot mom left for it, and he really really saw Santa take a bite out of the oatmeal cookie mom left for him on a plate. My brother was a really convincing kid over his gullible little sister.

This delightful image at the top of this post was found on~

My Poems

My April Cat

It’s been a long cold winter,

Inside this house I sat.

I’m told that’s what cats do,

Sit around and get fat.

I want to go  out now and run,

But every day there is no sun,

I hear Missy say April showers,

Will bring butterflies and flowers.

I know the time will be here soon,

I remember chasing stuff  last June.

And next to follow is mid summer,

Using the litter box has been a bummer.

by Eileen Clark  April 2022


My Poems ~ Others poems

Farewell To The Farm

The coach is at the door at last;
The eager children, mounting fast
And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

To house and garden, field and lawn,
The meadow-gates we swang upon,
To pump and stable, tree and swing,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

And fare you well for evermore,
O ladder at the hayloft door,
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
The trees and houses smaller grow;
Last, round the woody turn we sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

by Robert Louis Stevensons

When I was six my two older brothers and I lived in a big old farm house. It had a chicken coop filled with chicks and a rooster. We also had two huge pigs, one Irish Setter and a couple of cats. At summer’s end my parents, aunt and uncle and us three kids actually went out in a big wagon with side boards that had clamps holding pitch forks and we gathered up cut down hay from the fields, piled it up in the wagon, brought it to the barn and loaded it up in the second level of the barn up to the rafters. 

When the work was done my parents would place a large pile of hay on the ground right under the small open door in the top of the barn. When the day was at end, the wagon was empty, and the grown ups were tired, thirsty, and hungry, they left us to play. Our playing was climbing up the ladder and jumping out the small door and landing on the pile of hay on the ground, repeating this action over and over until it got dark or mom called us in


My Paintings · My Poems ~ Others poems

Front Porch


From My Porch

After the end of a long hot day
At the end of my rope -  with nerves all frayed
I sat on the porch…to rest a spell
As the sun slipped… slowly behind the hill

Calmed…by the lingering…after glow
I watched…the summer night unfold

Crimson streaks…on a sky of blue
Melted…in a thousand…different hues
Got lost…in the dark…without the light
Leaving…just their shadows…in the night

And in fields…of clover…across the way
The crickets…began…their serenade
As fireflies danced…with sheer delight
Glowing…in  love…with this summer night

And there…ahead…at the end of the road
Above the bridge…where the river flows
It rose - like magic - before my eyes
An orange moon… so big…it filled the sky

Poem by ~Elaine George

Painting by ~ Eileen Clark ( Watercolor)


The Best of Elaine George


My Paintings

Lemon Verbena Mint Herb Tea Recipe

Lemon Verbena Mint Herb Tea Recipe

 1/2 cup of fresh mint leaves (not the stems, they’re bitter),
rinsed, lightly packed (about 20 leaves)

1/2 cup of fresh lemon verbena leaves, rinsed, lightly packed

(about 10-15 leaves)
2 cups of water


Bring a pot of fresh water almost, but not quite to a boil.

Put the mint and verbena leaves in a teapot. Pour the hot

water over the leaves. Let sit for 3-5 minutes. Strain into tea cups. Makes 2 cups.