Archive for March, 2010


Truth and light and all that’s right
Is what you say, is what you do,
So who’s the enemy I fight
When night is also light to you?

I’m turned around till up is down
And inside out and outside through.
It never ends, the same as you,
It only bends, when false seems true.

I frighten thoughts back in their place
and seize on what I’m clinging to.
No loving hell, no pain of grace.
My only hope is trusting you.

Jane Clark 7/2/2022


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A friend of mine told me early this week that life is not a fairy tale. I had to think about that one. Fairy tales are full of trouble and hardship but in the end, it all works out and there is joy and hope.

That sounds a lot like the Christian life to me… perhaps not a fairy tale (as there are no fairies – apologies to Tinker Bell), but it’s better.

I have found someone who was lost to me, or more correctly – she found me.

My firstborn, baby girl – called me two days ago – and I have been spinning with delight ever since! 😀

I never expected or dared to hope to see her in this life, yet I always half-expected her to knock on my door (and often thought that I’d better clear off the table in case she was coming). Funny. Amazing.  Across the years and miles she was thinking of me too, and I will always be grateful for the second gift, of having her in my life.

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Once upon a carrot patch,

by burrows lined with straw and thatch,

three bunny rabbits none could catch,

would frolic happily!

When they ventured out to play

and Scrapper Fox would bar their way,

they’d dodge, hodge podge, into their lodge,

all giggling with glee!

One day, the youngest of the three,

whose name was Quincy Marvin Lee,

decided he would rather be

out living on his own.

He packed his lunch box with some socks,

some blue gumdrops and lollipops,

then hopping, through the carrot tops,

went searching for a home.

Beyond the meadow, freshly mowed

on the shady side of the gravel road,

he saw a lumpy, grumpy toad

with eyes that blinked so WIDE!

“Why are you out so far from home,”

The old toad croaked, “and all alone?

You are the greatest fool I’ve known!

You’d better run and hide.”

“For what I’m telling you is true,

you will end up as rabbit stew!

There’s nothing more that I can do…”

The grum-bul-ly toad, sighed.

Then from above he heard a cry.

A frightened blue jay flying by.

“There’s danger, lurking quite near by,

The fox is on his way!”

Meanwhile, what Quincy couldn’t see,

was that, behind him, in a tree,

his brothers waited anxiously,

to help him get away.

They waited hoping that the fox,

not noticing their trap, would cross

a pit (concealed with sticks and moss

some fallen leaves, and hay).

When Scrapper Fox approached and spied

poor Quincy, crouching by the side

of the gravel road, nowhere to hide,

he licked his chops and drooled.

Beneath his paws, twigs cracked, then snapped,

and Scrapper tumbled in the trap!

The brothers danced and pranced and clapped!

Old Scrapper had been fooled.

Today upon that carrot patch,

by burrows lined with straw and thatch,

three bunny rabbits none could catch

all frolic happily.

And when they venture out to play,

is some sly fox should bar their way,

they dodge, hodge podge, into their lodge,

and like it, just that way.

By Jane Clark

The End.

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The Pretender

Here is the knight of valor

with starlight in his eyes

a golden helmet on his head,

and I see through his guise,

A gentle, hopeful heart.

That hides a greater quest

Of mysteries and riddles.

He yearns to know the rest.

Meanwhile, forgotten lessons

Still wait beside his chair

While thoughts and dreams are wandering

Where only heroes dare.

(c)  3/15/2010     Written by Jane Clark, for Charlie.

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Maiden Heart

The maiden heart now covered with lace,

Rouge and powder line her face.

As time’s cruel touch hobbles her grace,

The matron steps back, to find her new place.

But inside her breast beats a heart that is young.

With so many songs still left unsung.

Her wisdom ignored by those she’s among,

The plans that she made, dust covered. Undone.

She wanders alone in the crowded room.

Hearing faint laughter, remembering a tune.

She never noticed the passing of June,

And winter, it seems, has come too soon.

By Jane Clark


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