Sunday, August 30, 2015

the smaller i become

Artist in his Studio by Rembrandt

as dull as ochre splattered walls
hissing create…

images paint splatter my thoughts,
but refuse to reach my brush…

the longer I stare at the canvas
the smaller I become…

art is the heroine pumping
through my brain…

but empty white space
mocks my addiction…

©susie clevenger 2015

Real Toads Weekend Mini-Challenge ~ Ekphrasis

Sunday, August 23, 2015


The moon wallows
in dust bin clouds.
August is a dragon
burning color from
the roses outside
my window.
I hate the scent
of brittle.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

I chose Mama Zen's power image. Mine is the moon.
Play It Again Toads!

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Trees Fat Bellied With Light

Photo - Douglas Salisbury

"Look, the trees are turning their
 own bodies into pillars  of light"
In Blackwater Woods - Mary Oliver

  I can’t see the trees for the forest.
Limbs eclipse light bulb definition
in my wilderness of lost dreams.
Foggy memories hang from paperclip
eyelashes rusted by swampy tears.

Knees weak from chasing horizons
I sit on the bones of subtraction
wondering who penned “less is more.”

Suddenly, well as fast as sudden
can arrive on turtle feet, trees
fat bellied with light break through
my self-pity tearing it into fireflies.

Splinter roots no longer burn
or brew bitter tea on my lips.
Home is (was) walls papered
in few expectations, but I am
a broken limb grafted on the sky.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

A Few Chiseled Stones

I love you without
a list of reasons.
It is the days I hate you
the number of whys swell.

Arguments have us
setting up tents,
arming tongues,
forgetting the sun
climbs the horizon
brighter when we kiss.

Does the subtle
taking for granted
grow such deep roots
we become enemies?
Neglect has us seated
in the same room
plundering division
as if it were gold.

I love you, the unpolished gem,
the inappropriate laughter,
the patient saint waiting
as I fuss in front of the mirror.

It’s 4:00 a.m., I’ve chiseled
a few stones from the wall.
Hold me…I want to feel the sun.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

This poem appears in Poetry & Prose Magazine's Summer 2015 issue
as well as my poem Borrowed Dress Wedding.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Stained With Blackbird Wings

Morning stains the sky
with blackbird wings
carrying secrets pulled
from the summer moon.

Beneath feathered
oak limbs Trust sits
patient,  still…
waiting for answers
to interpret questions.

What was, is, can be
gathers notes from
caged throats to place on
tongues bold enough
to sing of freedom.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Friday, August 14, 2015

Hint, Rattle, and Suggest

The strut, tail feather swag,
same wingspan different cage,
testosterone ego believes
a worn exhibition is
Romeo’s secret weapon.

Truth is when a hen
has needs she knows
which clueless lock to pick.

Drop a few hints,
rattle the bars,
pigeon superstition
will take the bait
with full flexed chest
bowing to suggestion.

©Susie Clevenger 2015

Real Toads ~ Pigeon Superstition