Clyde King Poems

I like graveyards. They're peaceful and quiet.
Here no one fights or argues, curses or kills.

Here all have reaped the wages of sin: death.
...

Who am I?
I don't know.
I'd give worlds to know
If that were possible.
...

I didn't do it. I wasn't there!
Why does everyone gasp and stare?

What's that you say? I can't remember.
...

You can tell
I'm a real man.
Look at my hands.
They're calloused and tough
...

Every day I wake up
And hear this strange sucking noise, like
A clogged vacuum cleaner.
In my house, when I step outdoors,
...

As falling snow makes
No sound on the frozen ground,
I meditate in silence.
...

The falcon stoops straight
down and in a death grip hooks
an unwary seagull.
...

Is life worth living?
Ask the young man with Lou
Gehrig's disease who clings to life
With a tenacious will.
...

You can't love what
You won't die for,
You don't love if you
Demand it,
...

The arms that embraced me,
That held our children,
That washed and tenderly folded
Our lives together like precious garments,
...