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

Monday, March 30, 2015

Sunday, March 29, 2015

A Day of Stones

Virginia didn’t know today would be a day of stones
until she felt darkness resurrect her demons,
and knew history was walking across her spirit
to the clanging bell of madness.

Her love had once endured the madness
of a mind so bleak it robbed her spirit,
tore joy from its stem and lay stones
of morbid thought to house demons.

Didn’t war have enough demons
without the weight of insanity’s stones
crushing her thoughts into cloying madness
where there could be no shelter for her spirit?

If only she could accept the willingness of her husband’s spirit
to sacrifice his days to carry her through her madness,
but she couldn’t see him once again suffering her demons
when his freedom could be secured by the weight of stones.

With her coat pockets filled with stones
she let the River Ouse drown her demons.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

On March 28,1941 Virginia Woolf committed suicide by filling her coat pockets with rocks and walking into the River Ouse. 

At Real Toads Bjorn Rudberg challenged us to write his adaption of a sestina. I am not good with poetry forms, but I gave it my best effort. 

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Thursday, March 19, 2015

Easter Bunny Spoems

Blind Science

We can almost hear the Easter bunny
celebrate being halfway to the gunshine state
where today’s maker moment for the
Red Rocks' Exclusive is How She Blinded Me
With the Science of Pink Ribbon Fleece.

Big Ears Festival

Final hours for
the Big Ears Festival.

We can almost hear
the Easter bunny melt
in her pink ribbon fleece
as Pure Imagination, Shakey Graves,
and Iconic Power Spray
closeout the event.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Today at Real Toads we are writing spoems.




  1. a poem made up entirely from the subject lines of different spam emails
  2. a random sequence of words in the subject line of a spam email, generated to fool spam filters
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Monday, March 16, 2015

Romancing The Screen

a table for one
and an electronic screen
new age of romance

~ 0 ~

textful reasoning
abbreviated friendship
dining on anger

©susie clevenger 2015

(Urban Dictionary: A Textful ~ Derived from the quote " Giving him/her a mouthful." Instead of actually telling someone off verbally your tell them off over text message, IM, E-mail, etc.)

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Friday, March 13, 2015

Physical Education Circa 1964

A locker room, a place of blood, sweat, tears
and a baby blue onesie.
Yes girls, line up for the distribution of hideous.
If it snaps, it’s a win.
Welcome to 1964’s physical education.

This is no place for modesty.
All of you have the same parts.
You have five minutes to shed
your fashion statements and
don your athletic uniform.

Please note that architectural flaws
have created a swinging door peep show
at all entrances. So please use caution
when entering and exiting the locker room.

You are here for physical activity.
All of you will walk, run, jump, hop
your way through this year without complaint.

Oh, and because we don’t have a girls’ competitive
sports program, you are urged to support the boys
with your cheers, claps and attendance at their sporting events.

*For those girls who wish to be involved in an extracurricular activity
 we have an active F.H.A (Future Homemakers of America) that meets once a week.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

My gym uniform was very similar to the photo only it was shorts and not elastic legs. I couldn't stand the thing. I was in F.H.A and served a year as historian. Ugh! 

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Tuesday, March 10, 2015


"Queen of night torments" ~ Wole Soyinka

She sits on her bar stool throne
drinking the sacrifices of dollar bled
worshipers until wallets are empty.

With a cigarette rusted voice
the Queen of night torments wrings
pain from blue notes and adds another
layer of tears to whiskey walls stained with secrets.

Part witch,
part angel,
part dream collector,
she holds court every Saturday night
at a corner bar where success is measured by a tip jar.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform
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Sunday, March 8, 2015

Heavy Hand

Your hand is heavy, Night, upon my brow. ~ Wole Soyinka 

Sunset honey spoons the horizon
with summer memories in those
tiny moments before ebony snatches smiles.

I watch the keeper of secrets unfold her cloak
in the breath between comfort and haunting.

Your hand is heavy, Night, upon my brow.
I haven’t a knife to cut light into the fingerprints
you leave upon my dreams.

I have no animosity for the moon or stars.
They sing of forgetting, but your murky palm
pushes me deeper into a river of pain.

Scissor me from this play of fright that steals rest.
Night, I beg….Please come without a burden.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2015

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Friday, March 6, 2015


Toril "Wisdom of the Seeds" 24 x 36

I am more weed
than adored blossom
nurtured by a pedigree
of established roots.

My dandelion heart
finds home in the windswept
possibility of unknown.

With eyes to the sky
and ear to earth I gather
wisdom from seeds that
find a path to bloom
whether planted in drought
or abundance of rain. 

©Susie Clevenger 2015

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Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Minute Inked

We harness time with clock hands,
pushing back and leaping forward
in a designed whim to master the sun.

Whether the gold marble sparkles in blue
or hides behind clouded gray, its light
is assigned to space crowded by immediate.

Freedom exhales a weighted sigh
it must be bound by ticking handcuffs
to a schedule minute inked with frenzy.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

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Sunday, March 1, 2015

Silence Looms

Envy paints me with its green brush
each time I stumble with words
while another pen earns its wings.

I compare my can’t to their can
as I stare snow blind at white space
that mocks my inadequacy.

Have I reached the end of inspiration?
Tears are a dark lake I cannot swim.
Silence looms.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

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