Poetic Inkwells and More

  Short Love Story-- Love came late for me. I had to turn a blind eye And by doing so --love passes by. Love shed a tear for me.

A Lighthearted Poem about Love:)      by Clara Mitchell 11/23/2024 I fill my inkwells as often as I water my plants. Both need my attention to live and grow. My quill rests between stanzas and words. A new thought lifts the quill to find the inkwell. The quill at one time provided hours of writing. One molted feather still in flight as words appear on the page. The black ink is bold and cold. I hope to make up for this loss with colorful words.  The ink remains a constant black that easily stands out on my paper. The dark ink cloaks my words, While the colored ink gives rise to be seen. I add several splashes of color across the page. In the end, the colors do not carry the poem. Readers embrace the words. The first stanzas words are like a melody Of words that lead us into a dance. Our hearts pound and skip a beat. Yes, we all can fall in love with words. Cupid has arrows. A poet has words. Either way, love has made a way.

  Boxes          by Clara Mitchell 12-26-2023 I bought a mattress in a box. I am traveling again. The mattress purchase reminds me Of when we put God in a box. When we open the box for the mattress It unfolds to a much more alarming size! I think God wants us to think of Him Outside of the box. I know that I have stuffed gifts and talents Inside of me, I am the container, a box if you will. I tried to open the goods But needed help to do so. The helpers were busy-- I soon discover many We are living their dreams in a box. How do we open up After being contained so long? What treasures are stuffed? Now at a later stage in life, I am unpacking some boxes That I have carried for some time. God was helping me to open up. My talents began to expand like this Serta mattress. The size and fit gave me pleasant dreams. God gave me a talent to write. It has been a long time in the making. My boxes did not truly unfold until lat...

  The Window of My Heart by Clara Mitchell Look into my heart! What do you see? Why, I see many things: people from many nations, Lands afar, like a globe of continents. What you see is a missionary!