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The Poetry of...

TRACEY CLIPSHAM



Location: Nottinghamshire, England

Tracey is a big success story! She approached me on the 15th of January with a piece of poetry, which I was impressed with and helped restructure. Still not convinced of her abilities, I encouraged her to write some more poetry. I could see from the first piece a talent within Tracey for expressing inner feelings, conveying the personal poet, and describing the environment around her, and was determined to pull it out of her! The results over the next few days are well worth reading below, and I hope Tracey will now continue to keep on writing.
Firstly, read Tracey`s own opinion on herself and her poetry which...yup, also impressed me!...
"To me, poetry is a primary source of a poet`s feelings and emotions. I feel that a completed piece of poetry is like finishing reading a page of a book, therefore I will not understand the plot of `life` until I have explored all aspects, be it through written poetry or poetic thought.

I enjoy nature a lot as I have been raised to enjoy nature and the beauties and disasters it conceals. I also enjoy thinking about and exploring the theory of time and memories, as I find it intriguing and a constant source of questions of which to explore and evaluate through poetry

I feel that poetry is heavily stereotyped to hold rhyme and meaningless jargon. Therefore my poetry is a reflection of myself. I feel that my poems tell a complete tale within each, but hold a certain mystique to capture the reader in to thinking about why I wrote such a poem.

I immensely enjoy writing my poetry and hope you will as well. I fyou have any comments about my poetry, have no hesitation in letting me know in the guestbook, or e-mailing P.P."
TRACEY CLIPSHAM.

New Nature

Idyllic fields
Teaming with vitality,
Converted to cement,
Houses invading each other`s privacy.

Concrete roads
Meandering by,
Just touching one forecourt
Of a temperamental house

Wildlife
Replaced by townlife,
Uncouth families belowing,
Unnerving the tranquility.

The old oak tree
Replaced by the young sappling
With restricted roots,
And an unsure future.

The past is now irrelevant.
The new and unnatural
Has the power
To change.

House and car alarms vibrating
A shrill sense of change in my mind.
My window graffitied by the grotesque
View of bricks artificially joined -

Concealing lies and unhappiness.
A house: oblivious to the beauty
Concealed beneath the cement foundations
Kept captive...never to return.

Except the memories,
Kept safe,
In the most secret vault
Of my mind.

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 15/1/99


The Buzzard

I`ve seen the gentle peaks of the mountain
that I`ve been circling
all my life.

My wings flapping in the warm breeze,
the land below is
distant to me.

But still I stare, day after day,
and people marvel at the sight of me,
gracing their view.

My life is free, these are the mountains I love.
My wings will carry me
from my mountain

The breeze will lift and engulf me,
but I am safe, knowing my mountain
is there

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 17/1/99


A Babbling Brook...

A Babbling brook graced by the golden shoals.
How nice it would be to belong.
To be a fish within the stream,
The untainted crystal water,
Lapping over pure, diamond pebbles.
Those are my fish swimming
Beneath the ivy, clasping my tree,
Shadowing my life.
My crystal water and my diamond pebbles -
All the jewels of my life.

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 17/1/99


Visitors
My nest of Robins are expecting me.

The small, almost quaint nest
Crouched comfortably in my tree.

How nice it would be to have
More Robins signalling Winter,

as they sit on the handle of my spade,

which as if by coincidence I happened
to leave close by.

Without my Robins my garden would be
lonely and incomplete.

How nice it would be

To have more Robins in my trees,

Who are expecting me.

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 17/1/99


Harvest`s Jewels

The golden glow
of sunshine,
shimmering,
On the ripe apples in the orchard.

Tantalising fruit
suspended
just out of reach
From the child with a searching arm.

The apples
fallen,
bruised,
By the impact of trodden earth.

The glossiest of the apples
have been pecked,
defaced,
By greedy birds eager to reap the fruits of nature.

The jewel,
at the top of the tree,
even the harvester
Cannot reach.

The best are saved `till the end,
when their only journey is to fall,
rotten and wizened
To the ground.

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 17/1/99


Barred

The gate
Is the division between
here and the happiness
over there.

The bars
have been trodden
so many times
they almost seem unhappy.

The wood -
worn and growing moss
as the nature from the untouchable
is spreading to my world.

I can`t cross the gate -
My key was lost
some time before
I had it.

If only
I could climb
Just to reach the greener grass and
the sweet cherry blossom on those
beautiful trees.

Never will I have
The key or the skill
To caress those
Natural Beauties.

Therefore
Here I will stay
In my own quaint little world -
The constant observer.

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 17/1/99


Mine

My
crocus in a small china pot.
Luscious green tendrills pertruding from
artificial holes created for intense effect.
All the time
My
crocus had someone to please.
Mascarading his vivid purple bells
which chimed heavily in
My
ears.
Bells ringing a sigh of contentment.
My
crocus` flowers faded and withered.
My
crocus retracted his strength
and faced his year of undisturbed
dormant thought.
Still content
I wonder if
My
crocus will ever remember his friends in
My
neighbour`s garden,
or if he will miss the fertile soil
which he inhabited
for so long.
Still, `till next year
My
Friend.

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 18/1/99


The Abundant Lack of Time

Time disregards me.
If I could slow the coggs of time,
I would have a moment of my own.

Time is shared...distorted,
Used by others.

Time ploughs on regardless.

When my time eventually
ceases,
I will have eternity
to reflect and
regret.

Copyright © 1999 by Tracey Clipsham 27/2/99


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