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Daily Archives: March 9, 2016

And here I am – Promote Yourself


Shall I will I ever have a chance to be freed
That’s, only when my wings I need to spread

You put me one day in a cage
Can’t you see me today that I age?
Can’t you see me that I am weeping?
Can’t you see me that I am bleeding?

That day going my way straight to my fate
That I used to be free before t’was too late
Then I was nattering in my joy and glee
With No motive for my killing spree
Spending my joy from tree to tree
Having no foe, nor a prey I was to be
Safe that my carol of joy betrayed me
I was caught In a dream-catcher net
It was a gloomy day, that’s Ô! My fate
Mother Nature comes to me, ready set to rejoice
Full of fun, laughing of plenty to hear my voice
For, You don’t know why I sing, ah! me
It was the first day of Spring, for me
It’s only now but a prayer, from the bottom of my heart I sing
but a plea wish you hear me, that upward to Heaven I fling
That one day  you may let me free, before it was too late
It’s only Poetry, a lady  she knows before me, that said:


I know why The Caged Birds sing, ah me,
when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore
when he hit the bars, and would be free;
it is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his hearth’s deep core,
but a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings
I know why the caged bird sings_Maya Angelou

The Hermit – Promote Yourself


The dream was simple

With a hint of something


A shaky apprehension

Threatening to shatter

The illusion.

In the summer sun, anything

Seemed possible;

Even the crazy – turning

From a hermit sheltering in

A secluded corner

Of an empty beach

To a fully-fledged adventurer

Going where? Leaving when?

Who could tell?

A loner in the wind.

The crab listened with interest

To suggestions,

Fired from all angles,

Took new ideas on board, however

Out of character they seemed.

A claw dug through the sand

That was its shelter

And with intention,

Slow but deliberate,

The hermit followed.

The world outside beckoned

To it, calling

Attention to future possibilities;

So it scuttled away to discover

What the shelter

Could not teach it

On that little beach where it hid;

Plunging into the ocean, it made

The first step out

To sea, to the world beyond

Its protective shelter,

Where brand new memories

Waited to be found.

© Laura Marie Clark

Laura is from England, UK. “The Hermit” is an excerpt from her first book of poems, “City of the World”.

Thank you for considering featuring my poetry,
Laura Marie Clark
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