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

Sunday, February 23, 2014

1969


Crimson and Clover
What the hell did that mean?
(da-da, da-da, da-da)….

We played—replayed it—
Called it our song….

Teen hormones on an acid trip…
body screaming yes…mind Sunday school
wrapped in small town guilt…

We rebelled through a song
that raised goose bumps
on our flesh under
a holy water shower.

“My my, such a sweet thing (da-da, da-da, da-da)
I want to do everything (da-da, da-da, da-da)”

In 1969 love was as much
about escape as it was
about betting on forever.

©Susie Clevenger 2014





Susie Clevenger's Slidely by Slidely Slideshow

Real Toads All Mixed Up!
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Thursday, February 20, 2014

Flesh That Lies

Dressed in flesh that lies
he buries his difference
in a living grave and curses
mirrors that reflect but cannot see.


 ©Susie Clevenger 2014
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Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Broken City Of Stones

A dust moon shines
its muddy glow on
the cardboard skyline
painting it shades of sepia.

From my vantage point
upon the roof I could
see everything and nothing
in the dismal tomb of lost dreams.

No matter how high
I climb toward the stars
gravity always pulls me back
to this broken city of stones.


©Susie Clevenger 2014





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Monday, February 17, 2014

Bewitch The Oppressors


      Luna and Shaman Rabbit, by Toril Fisher
 

Luna, bewitch the oppressors
who drench earth with poison
that stills the bees’ flight
and leaves the garden barren.

Morning has grown silent:
Luna, bewitch the oppressors
pouring death into the wind
to rob honeycombs of gold.

Wildflowers no longer
turn the meadow into a bouquet.
Luna, bewitch the oppressors
who plunder the queen’s kingdom.

Please restore hope of another spring,
another summer, poppies touched
by velvet wings humming the song of life.
Luna, bewitch the oppressors.


©Susie Clevenger 2014

Real Toads Open Link Monday
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Friday, February 14, 2014

Bear Claw Roots


             Uprising, by Toril Fisher

In the turquoise pre-dawn
trees dig their bear claw roots
into the regenerative soil
of shrinking Eden.

They are defiant sentries
guarding their woodland womb,
gnarled limbs raised to proclaim
they will not surrender
this plot of earth to the
steel toothed hounds of greedy men.


©Susie Clevenger 2014



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Sunday, February 9, 2014

Twilight Of Seeded Moon


         Sunflower Stepper by Lisa Graham 

In the twilight of the seeded sun
I walk the path of imagination
where dreams pearl reality’s limbs.

With mystery's prodding I drink the light
until my inner well of who I wish to be
drips you can from my parched lips.

Cradled by the open palmed moon
I feel it polish my rebirth with sandstone stars
and watch doubt’s tattoo fade into memory.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Grace at Real Toads introduced us to the beautiful art of Lisa Graham for inspiration for our creativity. With Lisa's permission we are able to display her paintings with the words they inspired.




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Friday, February 7, 2014

Into The Rainbow

Come out, come out, whoever you are….

He hears the song of no more closets,
but once a secret steps out into a rainbow
bigotry swoops to deface colors.

He doesn’t know if he’s brave enough
to open a door to sticks and stones
or ride a merry go round of spears.

Love shouldn’t have to wear armor to show affection.


©Susie Clevenger 2014

At Real Toads Marian offered the work of Laurie Anderson as inspiration.

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Thursday, February 6, 2014

Graveyard Shift

 A small lamp
illuminates an oak desk
where cluttered words
spill in bits and phrases
from insomnia’s pen…..

Poetry works the graveyard shift...

©Susie Clevenger 2014


Kerry at Real Toads asked us about our creative spaces. 


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Monday, February 3, 2014

Play It Again


Play it again…
the song and dance
of barefoot summers
where tomorrow
didn’t blind the moon.

Somewhere in the
black and white
the music stopped
and my feet were
burdened with shoes.

Play it again…
So I can remember
how it feels to dance
outside the lines.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Over at Magpie Tales Tess Kincaid provides
 the image and we provide the words.



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Sunday, February 2, 2014

Fist Held Verses

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”  ― Ana├»s Nin



I was the bud
of my death…

Fear wrapped
to a stem of longing
I spoke of dreams
and what could be
until I became numb
to my own deceit.

I painted shadows
with bright words
thinking they would
lure my will to step
into doing.

Hell was the precipice of almost
where I felt each crushed petal
of poetry starting to whither
before it could bloom…..

Then came an ordinary day
turned upside down
by my last breath of no.

I surrendered my fist held verses
to the eyes of another and
released my spirit to blossom.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

The above quote by Anais Nin spoke right to the place I found myself in before I decided to let others read my poetry. I still feel that inclination on occasion to slip back into the budding, but it is the writing, sharing and blessing of reading such talented writers that keeps the bloom on my pen. 




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Saturday, February 1, 2014

My Soul Hoarded



Painting by Joseph Karl Stieler 


I can no longer hear
the birdsong of morning
or love’s endearment,
but music fills the silence.

What life robbed my soul hoarded.

I live not with loss….
I live in the joy of what remains.

©Susie Clevenger 2014



At Real Toads Hannah had us visiting Bonn, Germany which is the birthplace of Ludwig von Beethoven. Transforming Friday With Nature's Wonders
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