The stars ran through my fingers

Like cosmic sand through human sieve

For so long I wanted to keep one

Hold its eternal fire in my hands

Now that they were falling

Far from black velvet sky

I could see they had no home

And certainly were not mine

So leaving cracks, they filtered

A brief kiss within my palm,

Leaving scars, they seared,

But all I felt was calm

The stars ran through my fingers

A beauty not caught nor kept

No cage can hold them locked away

No heart can claim their crypt


~ Emily C.



***Author’s note: I don’t know where it came from…I just had an image that I wanted to paint, which is all pretty much new to me…then the poem came. And then, I thought, why not combine them? I’m certainly no accomplished artist, but this is a fun way to express poetry.

Mixed media on canvas. (acrylic, paint Sharpies, paper, pen, glue stick)



Wind chatters my bones
calls your lost spirit forth,
coded in my colors
a part of me, you warm me

Fate determined such
when it connected us
no option for no,
that magnetic flow…

our old souls,
fellow bedfellows
our auras blended
in universe’s palette


framed it –
set it prominently
upon the wall,

Stepped back to observe
the observers’ impressions,
their judgments…
and while they were distracted

played in rebellion

and when we parted
we knew, when the winds came

there was no staying apart
for we were,
and always will be:


~ Emily Clapper




Shades of Blue


Bleeding shades of blue

pooling swirls

painting floor

with sad moods

melted like crayons

dark to light

can’t find source

of this remorse

no gauze or nurse

to change my verse

the glaze of grief

Van Gogh’s relief

had he subject in me

sunflowers would grow

from ground coat

my dark demise

destined to float

the light in yellow

alas, alone am I

palette of blues

of which to choose

~ Emily Clapper


Paint The Light ~ NY poem #1 & graffiti gallery

step by step the sidewalk calls
me forth along long unset paths
random roaming of virgin self
in land of plenty, in land of wealth

but ‘round the corner curved,
shocks of artistic color bursts
on walls, gates, doors, the paint
words, faces, bubbled names

plastered art, mixed with spray
telling stories to those who stay
to linger long enough in city’s rush
always flowing, moving time lapse

for while money is what makes us turn
not all have luxury, access to their own
expression unique to shake up the street
challenge the idea of what beauty we seek

all I see is gorgeous design on dullness,
otherwise blank, a slate waiting for us
to light it alive, in rainbows of thoughts
opening eyes to genius amongst us

waiting in the dark
to paint the light


~ by Emily C.



While on my trip to NYC recently, I noticed I was taking a large amount of pictures of the graffiti and murals I would happen upon on my walk. It surprised me in its magnitude, its beauty, its integral part of the vibrance of the city. I decided to collect a gallery and share it here with you.

When I came home to Seattle, I was honestly disappointed in our graffiti artists. That is how much it defined my trip, and how much I think it defines NYC’s spirit. It may be a big city, a dirty one, a rich one, and a poor one…but it finds ways to beautify when everyone else is sound asleep.