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

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Tar And Feather Wings

If I could fly with these
tar and feather wings,
I would soar above the
shadows hiding beneath my bed.
It is the time of me,
but I haven’t the strength
to rise above the drowning
music of necessity’s plunder.

In this watered down version
of being I exist, breathe,
wait for the last shoe to drop.

For everything there is a season,
mine is shriveling hours clinging
to a vine that no longer has life.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

This is not me now, but it once was. I am good at hiding things, like thoughts and state of mind. I am grateful for the light that I now live in. I am blessed.

Grapeling's final Get Listed for the year provided us with these words to find poetry in: music, few, grip, feather, glove, steam, embrace, rise, fall, water, shadow, bed

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Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Breathing Ornaments

The trees used to be full of wings
rustling as leaves in a summer storm.
Language chirped from limbs strong
enough to hold murder and flock.

When autumn stripped the echo
from branches, an exodus dimmed
the sun until goodbye ceased its calling.

Now winter beards the forest with snow
and cardinals sit breathing ornaments
decorating barren limbs with crimson.

In this season of waiting brave throats
fill frozen air with music warming faith
spring is gathering feathers to arrive
when ice surrenders to budding.  

Susie Clevenger 2014

(photo credit: Steve took it via photopin cc)
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Monday, December 22, 2014

Rooted Grass

The moon drips its light
through the oak tree
in a candle path across my toes.

Entranced by the mystic glow
I imagine myself rooted grass
claiming my piece of earth.

Taking in each moment I share
with tonight I leave all thoughts
of tomorrow on the distant horizon.

Skin mottled by shadows
I stand as a soldier protecting
dreams from reality’s artillery.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Friday, December 19, 2014

Knives And Woody Guthrie

You don’t know how much
you can take until too much
puts steel in your spine.

There wasn’t much brand new
on the apple drop before one
child faced a knife and the other
channeled Woody Guthrie.

Putting miles on wings
my youngest brought
dust bowl determination
to see her sister safe
on the other side of the fog.

Planted in a garden of leather and clocks
prayers watched hours spin while faith
didn’t surrender a thought to negative.

When doctors’ hands had finished
chipping through stone to bring freedom
two sisters curled into giggles of healing.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Over at Real Toads Marian asked us to reflect on 2014 and write about it. I think I could have written a book, but I kept it short. For those who don't know the journey my oldest daughter, Dawn, has been on with her health I will let you read it in her own words. Losing my hair, finding my faith

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Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Another Year

Life bore down with its ticking hell
and delivered fraternal twins
of love and hate.

Another year gone, war got top billing
while peace never made it to the stage.

Skin, religion, politics, money created
a mixed tape of incendiary words
to play on a continuous loop until
its badgering burnt civility to ashes.

Another year of breathing,
but forgetting to live…
of standing on a precipice
praying opposition will
take its leap to death.

More weapons, less security
More anger, less love
More words, less meaning
More tragedy, less joy

…A world imploding on repeated history…

Money, politics, religion…
humans manipulate
and the Devil gets the blame.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2014

Kerry Says ~ Ah, Mephistopheles
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Sunday, December 14, 2014

A Faux Death

I slept a faux death
on pristine grass
void of the claws
of spade or tears.

A mere three feet
from your marbled name
I lay comforted by the moon
in its cradle of night.

Taken to a place where
dreams are forbidden
I was free from last words,
sunburned wishes, lips
that teased with promises unkept.

For a few hours I didn’t mourn
you had wings; that gravity
had tied me with ropes of pain.

Now without my shield of sleep
I see wildflowers rioting in purple
across your grave; hear sparrows
sing of angels; breathe spring air
free of the scent of dying roses.

Encircled in living watercolor
I wonder if it is your brush
painting life across my irises.

My heart feels less a stone
and more like life drumming
inside my chest.

Can this be hope?

©Susie Clevenger 2014

 At Real Toads Grace provided the poetry of James Wright as inspiration for our writing. Sunday Mini Challenge ~ James Wright

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Friday, December 12, 2014

Bubble Gum Ocean

Summers have made
their march to the sea
leaving her one day
closer to winter.

Pretty pink waves
splash her leathered skin
and she forgets youth
has long made its retreat.

Arms wide, she floats
belly up on memories
bleached white by a
forgiving crayon sun.

In her bubble gum ocean
worries don’t add, years subtract,
and hope doesn’t dwell on calculations.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

The photo is from is Lake Hillier in Western Australia.
Hannah at Real Toads prompted our writing with this beautiful place.

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Monday, December 8, 2014

Sandpaper Stars

Sandpaper stars know
best is brighter than
the last surrender into
blemished expectations.

Callous words can not
steal light life has earned
from a baptism of fire.

Time lapsed rapture
left us sipping nicotine
from gamma rays where
we were fashioned in
a cloud of dust.

We hang tattered, but whole
in a sapphire universe,
forgiving, forgetting,
overcoming the sanded speech
that tried to strip away our radiance.

©Ben Ditmars & Susie Clevenger 2014

I am proud to have participated in this poetic collaboration with the talented Ben Ditmars. You can find more of his work here.

Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform
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Tinseled Merry

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Friday, December 5, 2014

Green Flesh Of A Swan

could steal 
enough  glitter
  from clicked heels,
  I would dance among
 swans and not breathe this 
tepid air of boiling pots and
 foul spells.   My bitter, green
 flesh curses me to fly on a stick
 of wood and weed when my feet
 wish to balance on satin toes with a 
princess's  grace. Even my spirit that  fears
 water's splash  would dare to spread its wings across a 
crystal lake unburdened by misery's reflection in its mirror. Free me
 from this land of Oz where I am tied to lies glistening in emerald stones.
 Let me dance on dreams to music that plays more than a melody of remorse.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Fireblossom over at Real Toads has us doing mash-ups. She challenged us to take a well known character or actual person and placed them in a situation no one has thought to place them in before. I chose the unlikely scenario of the witch from the Wizard of Oz wishing she could dance in the ballet, Swan Lake

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Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Among Thorns

“ blooming is hard, and the most important thing is - to bloom. ― Yevgeny Zamyatin

Open palms gather
the night into petals
too fragile for the sun.

With a starlight audience
a flower breaks through its restraints
to steal a moment from eternity
and bloom among a sea of thorns.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Written for my own challenge at Real Toads

Bits Of Inspiration ~ Queen Of The Night
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Monday, November 24, 2014

Without Air

I want to know
who I am beneath
the me I carry to
fool the world.

Bits and pieces
of the sky light
my eyes, but when
did my mother’s
smile disappear
from my lips?

So many words
wing across my
thoughts leaving
me feathered
and frozen to
dreams I can’t

Who am I hangs
its question mark
on the clouds
while I look for
butterfly shapes
in the fluff.

I am a mess of
unsettled, divided.
Perhaps trying to find
myself in a whirlpool
is more madness
than trying to learn
to breathe without air.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Sunday, November 23, 2014

Years Float From Scissors

I no longer carry you
in my hair.

Years float
from scissors
to the floor
and I am free.

The hate you sprinkled
in my starlight now
mixes with dirt.

A broom waits to
remove the last tie to your
midnight voice.

My eyes are brighter,
bluer, wider, at peace.

I no longer carry you
in my hair.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

The beautiful woman in the photo is my daughter, Dawn. She is an amazing woman of courage and strength who has fought illness and years of mental abuse from an ex-husband and his family. Yet, she has never let it define who she was. She is one of those rare people who shines brighter when life tries to steal her light. 

I wrote this for Margaret's Play It Again, Toads #11  I chose A Toad's Favo(u)rite Poem featuring poet Diane di Prima as inspiration.
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Saturday, November 22, 2014

Lemon Drowning

detail of "Still Life with Fruit" 1852 - Severin Roesen
Iphone Image by Margaret Bednar

I drank wine
until the bitter
taste of my lemon life
no longer poisoned my tongue
and fairy tales stopped begging
me to save them from drowning.

©Susie Clevenger 2014 

Notes: There are too many fairy tale TV shows and the constant comments from that annoying man who won't marry American Women. At least I got a poem out of it. :)

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Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Love In The Time Of Silence

“Having to talk destroys the symphony of silence.”
― Aleister CrowleyDiary of a Drug Fiend

I am not sure when
we stopped speaking,
speaking beyond necessary.

Words sit on our tongues
like sparrows, common,
generic, sterile, polite.

When startled into the
insistence we make commentary,
we flutter our vocal chords
long enough to let conversation
appease, and then return
to roost in our silence.

Forcing someone to sing
will not make the music sweet….

Love is not a measure
of how many words we can
bead across the gap.

It is knowing there is enough
passion in our hearts to carry
us through our silent winter.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Friday, November 14, 2014

In A Moment

In a moment of love
we transcended the
judgment beating
at the door.

In a moment of love
nothing mattered
but the song freeing
us from pain.

In a moment of love
we were changed
in the chorus.

In a moment of love
you kept us from seeing
the wolf tearing away
your tomorrows.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

At Real Toads Marian prompted us with a Queen song: Love Of My Life
Love Of My Life
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Monday, November 10, 2014

Until The Wind Sings

I am an oak leaf
clinging to spring
in the brittle dying
days of my autumn.

Defying endings
while the sun
warms my cheeks,
I hold on to life
and not the dust
calling for my bones.

Though my smile
is stained with age
Joy doesn’t fret
what the mirror speaks.

Until the wind sings
my funeral song, I will
dress in bright colors
and plant memories
where the roses bloom.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

At Real Toads Grace prompted us with the works of Salvatore Quasimodo.

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Sunday, November 9, 2014


A beam of light in Upper Antelope Canyon
in Arizona. Lucas Löffler wiki cc)

Standing where sunlight
polishes flood etched stone
I hear the echo of the Navajo
singing through the veins
of the Cathedral of Rain.

Slowly the voices search
the rooms of my agony
until they reach the
core of my tears.

Baptized in words my soul translates
I release my pain to the power of healing.

©Susie Clevenger

Hannah at Real Toads took us to Antelope Canyon in Arizona for inspiration.

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Thursday, November 6, 2014

Facebook Circus

Photo: Pinterest        

Come one! Come all!
Join me at the Facebook Circus!

Watch me walk the tight rope
of my truth while dodging darts
shot from lungs filled with opinions.

There will be nail biting,
chewed tongues, and salty tears.

Admission is free, but depending
on the crowd there may be stoning
if your “unfortunate” pain sits in
the cross hairs of their second amendment.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Mama Zen prompted us to write about our circus life in 90 words or less.

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Friday, October 31, 2014

Let The Bottle Burn

The air smells like sin and iron.
Night has gathered its knifes
to bleed sanity from skulls 
full of thoughts to stalk pretty things.

Twisted boys pouring rape
into sparkly glasses will meet
Karma before painted lips
touch the rim of horror.

Let the bottle burn
the fingers of deceit.
Tonight will silence
the group think that no
can be manipulated into yes.

Bravado weeps
a pitiful excuse
as predators learn
the table turn spin
has rendered them prey.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Sing Away My Scars

Nightingale, this night is too dark
without your song to rock me to sleep.
Lonely has wrapped me in its scars
and I can’t feel love any more.

Who is this songstress of melancholy
that begs my throat to sing
a melody to devour pain?

I cling to this limb scented with spring
and only wish to commune with the moon,
but her tears can’t go unanswered.

Dear one, absence nurses its wounds
only as long as you allow...
Be the light for another until
you’ve burnt the darkness from alone.

I will sing for you until your dreams
carry you to truth…Until you trust
you can fly without my wings.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

I wrote this for my own challenge at Real Toads ~ Bits of inspiration ~ Nightingale 
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Sunday, October 26, 2014

Rustle Of Orange

I walk beneath the oaks in their autumn
rustle of orange flames burning summer
from limbs wondering if the robin’s song
still clings to its abandoned nest or has
the wind swallowed the memory of rebirth.

The sky above me is a cloud of wings
chasing a resting place where snowflakes
have never frozen their place in vocabulary,
the mating call is silent, home is a gypsy camp
waiting for instinct to find north again.

In this beautiful landscape of dying I collect
visuals to charm me through the skeleton hours
of frost when daylight is a mere thought
between bookends of midnight and prayers for spring.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2014

This is written for Margaret's Play It Again Toads #10 I chose to revisit Kerry's A Toads favo(u)rite Poem which featured the poet Dylan Thomas, whose style I amateurishly tried to emulate.
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Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The Portal of Fitheal

Autumn Celestial Elf ~ John Anster Fitzgerald

Beware of stepping
through the portal of Fitheal
where nightmares dance
on dead eyes and fairies
gather lies to decorate
damnation’s tree for
The Feast of Revelation.

It is on All Hollow’s Eve
Mendacity don’s her
whisper veil to trick
tongues to spill secrets.

If you bear the hoodwink’s mark,
don’t venture out when the moon
is tinted with blood smoke,
or your screams will be added
to the flames of the liars’ sacrifice.

©Susie Clevenger 2014
(Notes: Fitheal means sprite or goblin in Irish and Mendacity means deception)
Grapeling at Real Toads gave us this list of words as inspiration for our ghost stores:
fairy, portal, sacrifice, feast, smoke, winter, slaughter, spirit, veil, ritual, trick, disguise

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Monday, October 20, 2014

The Curse On My Tongue

A curse rests on my tongue,
eager to be sent…
eager to find its target.

I war with my conscience
about playing nice….
Forgiveness is a virtue,
but he muddied the sandlot
in the darkest hour of breath.

I want to rattle every skeleton
in his closet until the truth
spills across his doorstep.

Sticks and stones aptly thrown
will tumble his house of cards.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Ah Halloween....'Tis the season of darkness.....

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Sunday, October 5, 2014

A Forty Watt Moon

I hear photographs speak,
brush my teeth with thoughts,
and walk barefoot through
the alphabet under a forty watt moon.

Surrounded by poets on bookshelves,
I ink verses until “finished” releases me
from wide awake dreams.

Attempting to snake charm sleep
with yawns, I cap my pen
and surrender to daylight
winking on the horizon.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Friday, October 3, 2014

My Resting Place

Bury me in Mother Earth’s womb
where sun is carried in water
droplets, and tomorrow
lies untouched by human error.

Wrap me in a shroud of hope
and send my spirit to walk the scars
of her pitted cheeks to apply
the oil of remorse to destruction’s brow.

Blend my dust with rebirth.
Let it be the soil where change
can grow deep roots to stop the flooding
destruction of man-made destiny.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Hannah, at Real Toads, prompted us to write from the inspiration of Son Doong Cave in Vietnam. It is an amazing, beautiful place. In this video it shows a forest growing inside the cave. I was moved to write about my pain of how we have harmed our planet and the hope somehow we can stop the tide of destruction poised to consume life. Transforming Friday With Mother Nature's Wonders  
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Thursday, October 2, 2014

Dear October

Dear October,

Did Shakespeare simply
ignore you or did he fear
his words could not
adequately speak of the beauty
of your candle flamed leaves
dancing with the wind?

Your glory hangs upon cinnamon limbs
prodding even the daylight star to question
eternity about the bard’s silence.

Perhaps it was Shakespeare’s intent
to have us pen our own October sonnet
while you quietly lay autumn upon his grave.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

At Real Toads Mama Zen prompted us to use personify October
 in 53 words or less. Forgive me Mama Zen for being more wordy.

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Sunday, September 28, 2014

Refill Enthusiasm's Cup

You speak of your advanced years as if the creases earned by endless smiles could erase beauty. You are the wish your hope once hung on the northern star when faith chased dreams without fear. Whenever life took the narrow path of black and white you knew a yellow brick road lay beyond the monochrome.

Refill enthusiasm’s cup and drink the joy of being an ageless spirit in a culture obsessed with chasing youth. Wisdom is the silver in your hair; the lessons learned shining boldly in blue eyes, your words that heal. You are the today someone needs to guide them into their tomorrow.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

This was inspired by a revisit to Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, November 16, 2011, Prose Poetry.

Margaret's Play It Again Toads, #9
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Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Legally Aimed

I took a pledge for gun sense
and became a target.
People don’t like you messing with
their second amendment.

It didn’t matter another life
was taken by a legally owned aim.
I’m a bitch messing with the right to defend.

Yes, I support gun sense.
This isn’t some "do gooder" trying
to take the steel from your palm.

I am a woman who has lived the trauma
of seeing bad things happen to good people,
the agony you preface with unfortunately
then follow with your vow of no compromise.

Is it just unfortunate that my phone rang with someone
bearing the news a young woman I had known since
she was a child was shot and killed by an ex-husband?

Is it just unfortunate to have held a young woman
in my arms who was crying from the terror of being raped
by a boyfriend while he held a gun to her head?

No, I won’t keep quiet because it rocks the family boat,
has me twitter bombed or Facebook jabbed.
I am too grieved by the horror feeding on my silence.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

This is written from the inspiration of Alicia Keys' poem P.O.W. (prisoner of words. 

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Sunday, September 21, 2014

Tears Of Inevitable

The mountain peak sees the night
before the valley bathes in stars.

Its stone held secrets vibrate
in their unknown tongue along
prayer beads cut from the heart of God.

Standing on earth’s shifting flesh
it feels the future cutting a path
through the tears of inevitable.

Knowing that certainty can be
rerouted by hope, the mountain waits
to see humanity pulled from the precipice of failure.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Saturday, September 20, 2014

One Cat Away From Crazy

Lilly sat by her window
dropping forks and
bribing fate.

If one dropped fork
meant a man would visit,
how much better the odds
if she gambled all her pronged silver.

Cupid had failed with his arrows.
Love had been nicked, but never
bled enough to down a soul mate.

With all the flowers in her garden
sacrificed to the game, He loves me…
He loves me not…she hoped romance
would prefer eating cake with a spoon

She was one cat away from crazy,
and a knitted afghan closer to eccentric.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Friday, September 19, 2014

No Art In War




The expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.

To me there is no art in war.
A landscape tinted with blood
has no beauty, no redemption.

How does one fight a war on terror?
How much death equates success?
How do we keep monsters at bay
when we are fired upon with our once
peddled star bangled weapons?

To me there is no art in war.
A landscape stripped of life
to feed green profit into greed’s pockets
has no beauty, no redemption.

Why is there a call to fight for freedom
when we are losing our freedoms
under the guise of keeping us free?

To me there is no art in war.
A landscape littered with the collateral damage
of innocents that brings the world no closer to peace
has no beauty, no redemption.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Real Toads ~ Get Listed ~ September
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Monday, September 15, 2014

Monday Is For The Birds

Standing at the back door
I watch the moon die
in the first glares of dawn.

Swirling cream in my coffee
I drug myself with enough
caffeine to exorcise lethargy.

Bone weary from lists
of all I must do, I bend
my will into procrastination

long enough to listen
to the birds greet Monday
as if it could never disappoint.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Sunday, September 14, 2014

September And The Moon

I want to hold hands
with September
and the moon
blooming in the sea.

For a few moments
life has been silenced
by splashing waves.

I don’t have to breathe
hectic, or sacrifice peace
to the rumble of traffic.

Night rocks me in its cradle
of misted stars until I forget
tears wait on my eyelids.

I am alone with September
blushing my skin with dreams,
the moon, and secrets.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2014

At Real Toads Grace asked us to write about our September sky

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Sunday, September 7, 2014

Dear Poets...My Poets

I am drawn to your words
like a moth devouring light.
When the world tears another
layer from shell I inhabit,
your words fill the scar and speak
another day into my flesh.

Dear poets…my poets…
Yes, I claim you as my own.
You speak the unspeakable,
take my pain, and leave me whole.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Saturday, September 6, 2014

I ~ You

“And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed.” 
― John SteinbeckThe Grapes of Wrath

I am hungry and
you feed me.

I am thirsty and
you give me wine.

I punch a time clock and
you answer to the sun.

I complain of cost and
you pay the price.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Reflecting on the food I eat. It arrives at a cost far greater than dollar signs. Humbled by those who toil for so little to bless me with so much. My heart goes out to the migrant workers. Thank you seems so inadequate.

Marian over at Real Toads provided music by David Hidalgo as inspiration for our poetry. Real Toads ~ The Valley
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Monday, September 1, 2014

Withering ~ Triquain

from August’s paintbrush of
burnt umber, flowers surrender to
their garden fainting couch where dry leaves will comfort
them until winter’s chill seals them to
the slumbering breast of
promised spring.

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Sunday, August 31, 2014

Wee Hours Of Together

Dance with the Ghosts of Tomorrow
© Kelly Letky

We are arms reaching
for last moments before
goodbye has burnt the air.

In the wee hours of together
we dance with tomorrow’s ghosts
that are still warm with memory’s flesh.

Let the promises remain unspoken.
There is no need to ask why because
the answer arrived with our first mistake.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

At Real Toads Kerry provided us with the beautiful photography art of
Kelly Letky as inspiration for our writing. You can find more of her work
on her Etsy page Blue Muse Art.

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The Knife Edge is the granite
high wire where adventurers
risk life to walk on awe.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Hannah's prompt: Real Toads Transforming Friday With Nature's Wonder
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Wednesday, August 27, 2014


You shouldn’t have…
Well, I did…

Tattoos are disgusting.
Have you seen mine?

You’re the only one on the dance floor!
I don’t care…

What’s with all those pens?
I love ink.

Act your age!
Is this an audition?

You’re so strange.
Thank you for noticing!

©Susie Clevenger 2014

 Mama Zen at Real Toads wanted us to discuss our weird in 46 words or less.

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Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Evade: A Politician's Handbook

If I were to be,
well you see,
I’d rather be you
than me.

Because a rabbit chase
through the sky
will end in a stubbed toe
fall into reality.

If I talk out of the right
side of my mouth,
I bite my left cheek
which doesn’t matter
unless I don’t have
a leg to stand on.

Does that answer
your question?

©Susie Clevenger 2014

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Monday, August 25, 2014

Until Death ~ Or Nearly

“It's like a storm that cuts a path
It's breaks your will, it feels like that
You think you're lost, but you're not lost
On your own, you're not alone" *

My love watched me
be overtaken by pain
that had no cause,
no relief, no cure.

The agony of my bones
turned on its match
to burn my flesh,
and death wooed me
with its painless sleep.

When I was too weak to speak,
he was my voice…
When I couldn’t stand,
he was my legs…
When I couldn’t hope,
he was my prayer.

Why hung itself like
a black wreath on my spirit.
I was an enigma passed
from physician to physician.

While I was holding on to thin air
midnight lit a lamp to expose
death had planted its seed
in a prescription bottle.

Though I had an answer, it wasn’t a rainbow’s
ride out of hell…My mind medicated
into despair was a tough jumpstart
into believing life was better than death.

When I was too weak to speak,
my husband was my voice…
When I couldn’t stand,
my husband was my legs…
When I couldn’t hope,
my husband was my prayer.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

The beginning quote is from the song, I Will Stand By You, written by Jason Sellers, and Steve Robson; performed by Rascal Flatts.

In 2012 I was prescribed the prescription drug, Cozar. What began with a high fever and pain progressed to agonizing pain, only being able to feed myself, and the darkest depression I have ever experienced. I have been warned by a cardiologist I am never to take that class of drugs again because there is every likelihood next time it would kill me. The list of side effects can be found here.

During this hell few people knew what was really happening to me. I asked Charlie to only post on my Facebook page that I wasn't feeling well. I was dependent on Charlie to bathe me, dress me and assist me in going to the bathroom.The only thing I could do was feed myself which took extreme effort because I had to wear neoprene gloves to try and stabilize the joints in my hands to reduce pain. 

I was bounced between doctors who didn't have a clue as to what was happening to me. My primary doctor was going to send me to a infectious disease specialist because he thought I had contracted a virus that was attacking the bones. Somehow through the physical pain and my mind surrendering to death a light bulb flashed and I realized I had began taking Cozar the month before. Charlie and I started digging deeper into the drug's side effects and found it was the demon killing me. I stopped taking it and physically I began to rebound, but mentally I was still shrouded in the belief I would die. Charlie had to tell me every day I was getting better. I had the song, I Will Stand By You, on my iPod and I listened to it over and over, clung to the words because I knew Charlie was there for me and many friends who didn't know the real extent of my illness were praying and speaking positive words on my behalf. 

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Sunday, August 24, 2014

Take The Moon

My heart is a ticking clock
dividing time with your smile
and the barrenness of your anger.

Take the moon, the last rose,
the lust memories I have stored
in my flesh, but don’t rob me
of my reflection in your blue eyes.

We are two souls wrapped into
one eternity. Forgive me for stepping
into the starlight of another’s arms.

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Margaret at Real Toads had us revisiting previous challenges. I chose one from Kerry, Jorge Luis Borges

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Friday, August 22, 2014

Six Chances With YouTube

Stay With me
(Give them)Something To Talk About
It don’t make any difference to me
(Because) Love Is The Answer
We Can Work It Out

©Susie Clevenger 2014

Fireblossom at Real Toads is has us making lists.

Fireblossom Friday ~ Lists

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