Monday, October 5, 2015

Brown Paper Leaves

Drought has robbed
the orange from autumn.
Brown paper leaves
cough their dry rattle
into a dusty wind.
Life waits for the
silver lining of winter.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry #272

Saturday, October 3, 2015


I damn the prison song of fate,
a hateful melody spinning
me into a clock whose face
sees a tomorrow I can’t edit.

It is…It isn’t…
It will…It won’t…
It can…It can’t…

I dance in toe shoes
that can’t feel my heartbeat
or know the danger of tears.

Destiny is the handmaiden of hell.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Real Toads Flash 55 Plus!

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Wind Drop of Crows

Roraima ~ Carlos Garcia/Reuters

A voice travels as far as
the clutter it leaves
in the womb of pristine.

Conquest is a spiked brag
scarring the mountain face
while ancient spirits grieve.

Sacred has no value in silver coins
so greed steals the wind to drop
crows into the gods’ eyes.

In the cavern between earth
and where stars die prayers climb
incense curls to plead for solitude’s return.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Process Notes: Hannah over at Real Toads introduced us to the beautiful Mount Roraima, Venezuela/Brazil/Guyana. I did a little research and found where tourists are damaging the ecosystem of the mountain

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Pencil Shavings

I gather words from infinity
into a moment where a heightened
sense of failure plays its metronome allegro.
I feel as if the William Tell Overture
is galloping through my brain
and I am standing still among vocabulary
shaving lead from a pencil
too weary to reach the finish line.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Two Poems Go Back To School

The View from Granite

I felt the sting of love
when death took your
light from my eyes.

Denial became my altar,
the kneeling place where
I held your voice against my heart.

Slowly, painfully I climbed
a mountain of days dragging
the chains of your absence.

Life cannot see through granite
or love grow where the daisies wilt.
Spring melted my winter with memories.

You are there in the tulips we planted,
the torn screen you promised to fix,
your favorite cup that holds my coffee.

Tears still come, but they don’t consume.
I laugh more; dance to our favorite song;
see tomorrow as another step beyond your grave.

©Susie Clevenger 2015


My Dreams Are Pulled Threads

I will never write myself
with another’s words.
or thumbtack my destiny
to a starless night.

My dreams are the pulled threads
of being me when voices scratch
at the reflection greeting me in the mirror.

There is no great challenge in being different.
It simply takes breath and trust you can
follow your own direction. 

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Inspired by the students at Ladysmith High School 

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Vodka Rain

You burn your dreams
on the tip of your tongue.
and swallow vodka until
you swim in excuses.

I grow weary of trying
to be your sunlight.

When the next storm arrives
I won’t be your umbrella.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Real Toads The Tuesday Platform

Monday, September 14, 2015

Chewed Ice of Your Skin

I chewed through the ice
of your skin only to find
I can never be warm
in your delusions.

You sing of fate as if
random was the lying
stepchild of inevitable.

We are not “meant to be.”

The scent of sex is our
only connection... lonely,
breast feeding on available
until our spines can support
the weight of leaving.

Drink more wine to sweeten goodbye.

We are two ships crashed
upon concrete who will
never find enough moonlight
to fill our sails.

Let the exit door be your epiphany.

©Susie Clevenger 2015