In the last of the
places wild, my
Spirit grew
beyond a child.
Blooming, growing,
grounded, free,
by the hand, she
came home with me.
Goddess wild
trees of green
rivers run
the world is seen.
In the forest,
by the sea,
hear your heart,
so mote it be.
© Hilary Clark, 7/5/2025
My poems are inspired by my art. See the piece that inspired this poem here.
Go with your gut
they say, but
who are they
to say
how
your messages
come through you?
Some
feel intuitive in
their heart.
Some in
their solar plexus.
Some
hear voices.
Some
see images.
Some experience a
deep, deep
knowing.
Feeling intuitive is not
restricted to
the gut,
although
the gut can be
a messenger.
Feeling intuitive is,
instead,
the act of
Being who
you
really
are.
© Hilary Clark ~ March 7, 2025
My poems are inspired by my art. See the piece that inspired this poem here.
The world, weighted
and burdensome
rests on her shoulders,
her back, her heart.
Knees bowed, bent,
broken, withered from
centuries of toil,
of disrespect, of
uncaring, unfeeling,
unwavering disdain.
Weary, wary, wrecked
she wishes change
into Being, man vs. bear
it’s always the bear
because trust is false,
fleeting, far-fetched.
If only the Goddesses
were still revered but
no, the world worships
Gods and women are
discarded, destroyed,
denied, and defamed.
© Hilary Clark ~ May 9, 2024
My poems are inspired by my art. See the piece that inspired this poem here.
Hilary Clark ~ Pining for Poetry 