"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Bleached Eyes

Can you taste my lips
while hanging on the moon?

Somewhere out there
is closer than the distance
between your addiction
and I seated at your elbow.

I have forgotten the color
of your eyes…they are bleached
by letters and images scrolling
in your palm…Once I was the light
that drew you, but now I am
a candle without a wick.

Look at me! I am real...No one
has airbrushed my skin, spliced
me into a fantasy, riddled me
with emoticons.

"One is the loneliest number
since you went away"….

©Susie Clevenger 2014

The ending to my poem is a quote from the lyrics of One written by Writer(s): Rip Slyme and Harry Nilsson.

Kerry at Real Toads challenged us with alienation...to really hear and respond. I settled into the alienation the cyber world has created. Thankfully my marriage is blessed to not suffer this electronic alienation.

Kerry Says ~ Can You Hear Me?
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Tuesday, July 29, 2014

A CNN Dream Book

The nightlight made
a beeline to hell leaving
me to count sheep blind.

There’s too much real
in the bits and pieces
pounding my eyelids
from a CNN dream book.

“Something’s happening here..
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong”..
Déjà vu comes with its…
we been down that road rerun,
and still the peace pipe is without smoke.

Who’s that little girl? She looks a lot
like me, but she’s smiling too big.
I cried when they killed the Mockingbird,
but the bus driver told someone to shut me up.
They always sit in the back of the bus.

Talking head has a prayer book that
says it will buy him more votes. I can’t
keep from staring at his hair that is as slick
as the words coming out of the other side
of his mouth. It must take a lot of hairspray
to cover up so much pretend.

Sheet pulled tight across paranoia
I fight the clutch of closed eyes.
Rest begs for the curtains
to keep the light out…I just want to rise
from this crawlspace to find flowers for my hair.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Anthony Desmond over at dVerse Poets Pub challenged us to slip into a dream state and write what we saw. To give a little background on myself, I was born in the 50's, and saw everything from then up to now. So I did some dreaming through decades. 

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Saturday, July 26, 2014

Keeping Watch

Ancient spirits
buried in the sky
watch for seekers
brave enough to
ride the dragon’s tail
to search for wisdom.

Pine trees sough
through the mist,
“The days keep
growing longer.”

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Hannah at Real Toads took us to the beautiful Tianzi Mountains in China for inspiration for our poetry. Transforming Friday With Nature's Wonders
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Friday, July 25, 2014

Little Hearts Of Stone

 Photo ~ Mama Zen

The desert is full
of little hearts
turned to stone.

They are 
of fifty stars

that killed
with barbs
of red and blue.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Mama Zen over at Real Toads provided us with her beautiful iPhone photos of tiny fossils as inspiration for our poetry.

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Sunday, July 20, 2014

Boomerang Blues

This poem is the blues.
This poem is gritty vocals.
This poem is tequila shots at midnight.

Life wrapped in steel strings
responds to a guitar pick
plucking pain into chords.

He’s a thousand bars into salvation
singing to a beer choir that is
three sheets into amen.

Watching heads tilted back
downing tequila communion
he knows his last song must beat Cinderella’s clock.

Just another Saturday night
of singing it real to a congregation of souls
who have reached the worm in the bottom of a bottle.

This poem is the blues.
This poem is gritty vocals.
This poem is tequila shots at midnight.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Hannah over at Real Toads challenged us with a poetic form she created, Boomerang Metaphors. I failed the metaphors (I think), but I was able to boomerang it. :)

Sunday Mini-Challenge ~ Boomerang Metaphors
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Friday, July 18, 2014

Beyond This Death Ship

Out beyond this death ship
that has me gravity bound
is a blue marble where my
mirror reflection breathes
free of all my errors.

She is what I should be…
kind, generous, not easily angered.
A dreamer who isn’t daunted
by no’s that build blockades.

Her dress is never wrinkled.
She is organized, has an excellent
memory, doesn’t bite her nails,
weighs each word before
it slips from her tongue.

But though I envy her, there
are bits of me she doesn’t
possess in her side of the universe.

Muddy shoes don’t bother me.
I dance while the world stands still.
Tomorrow is a mantra for my
procrastination. I am deaf when
looking through my camera lens.

The other me doesn’t have my vision,
my heart, the tiny scar beneath my
bottom lip, my sense of humor.

On the other side of the moon
my mirror image is the perfect me
I’ll never be. I am finding peace in being flawed.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Fireblossom over at Real Toads has prompted us to write about the other you...A you that looks just like you, but that could be where the similarities end.

Fireblossom Friday ~ Another you

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Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Yellow Wasn't The Trip

Not all things yellow are gold.

I ditched Kansas
for red glitter,
but tapping
on yellow brick
wasn’t the trip
a witch promised.

So it’s goodbye
to clay that burned
my toes with insistence
I travel further than
I could leave behind.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Real Toads ~ Bits Of Inspiration ~ The Yellow Brick Road
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Sunday, July 13, 2014

The Albatross Of My Melancholy

Stones tumbled smooth
by my river of tears
have built the tomb
I buried joy in.

Time with its rusted hands
no longer counts the minutes
to sunrise, but stays frozen
at the hour of our goodbye.

I am divided in half, weakened
by alone. Yesterday squeezes my lungs
preventing the breath of tomorrow
from resuscitating the dreams
we planted there.

My melancholy is an albatross
driving empathy from my door.
Even the bravest soul will not cross
the threshold to greet my pain for
fear of its attachment.

If there is any hope, let it find me.
I am weary from pacing this stone
mausoleum listening for your hands
to unbolt its lock.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Written from the inspiration of the poet Claribel  Alegria showcased by Grace at Real Toads. Sunday Mini-Challenge ~ Claribel Alegria
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Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Two Poems

Sunburnt July

The bay splashes me
with its mirrored water
until my daydreams
surrender to the waves.

Reality is too cold under
the sunburnt July sky.

Why swirls above me
with the seagulls and
for a few short moments
I don’t care there
isn’t an answer.

©Susie Clevenger 2014                           

Kool-Aid And Brimstone

 We drank the Kool-Aid
and searched the horizon
for the end of the world.

With our boots laced to brimstone
we toured damnation until
love was supplanted by fear.

Summer stirs my unholy ghosts
with their songs of blood echoing
through the questions I never asked.

I still feel the pain of wearing wool.

©Susie Clevenger 2014
photo credit: Adam Foster | Codefor via photopin cc

The first poem is written for Margaret Bednar's challenge at Real Toads
Artistic Interpretations ~ Life On An Island

The second is written for Real Toads Flash Fiction 55
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Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Greeks And Ephesians

Wine flows
down his neck
in a river of excess.

Stubbing his toe
on ancient text he
trusts the Greeks’ advice
that a gold chained amethyst
will keep him in the proper spirit.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Real Toads Out Of Standard

Izy at Real Toads prompted us to obscure the truth with facts. 

With paint fumes filling my head I took a few hits of The Amazing And Interesting Fact Generator and found "Ancient Greeks believed that wearing amethysts would help prevent a person from getting drunk."

Then a visit to Ephesians brought this advice. “And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit” Ephesians 5:18

P.S. The paint fumes are from getting my living room, dining, room, kitchen and library painted. :)
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Tuesday, July 1, 2014

A New Ladle

the soup that
is me with  a brand
new ladle. I put a mirror
to my blind spots and saw
what I have been avoiding.
So I am  flavoring the mix
with a dash of change
one  sprinkle  at a
time. It isn’t
easy   re –
one self
w h en
gold is
sil - ver,
b u t  I
am not
lik  ing
t  h  e
taste of
on my
ton -

©Susie Clevenger 2014
Real Toads Open Link Monday
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