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

Friday, July 14, 2017

Acroma














    The Death of Albine ~ 1898 ~ John Collier


You wreathed my body in flowers.
I didn’t know guilt could come so adorned.
You knifed my spirit until I could no longer breathe,
drained the roses from my lips and danced
with the devil until I sought angels.

I hate parades. This march of black sleeves
parading across my cheeks seeking notice
is a hundred clowns away from truth.

How many more rumors must ears taste
when they are already fat with lies?
I lay here sentenced to dust while
a covey of scarlet offenses claim piety.

Is revenge truly sweet or merely the stench of decay?
My body will be absolved from my spirit’s consequences.
I will not go quietly into my tomb of draped lilies.

I will be the roar in a pillowed head counting sheep,
a stalking wolf devouring rest, a wraith ushering
my tormentors into the open throat of their madness.

Here in this time before wings I gather names
in the hollow cave of my breast until I know
how many shadows it takes to coal dust clouds
in an unrepentant sky.
  
 ©Susie Clevenger 2017













13 comments :

Sanaa Rizvi said...

My goodness!! Such poignancy and incredible fierceness in this.. especially; "Here in this time before wings I gather names in the hollow cave of my breast until I know how many shadows it takes to coal dust clouds in an unrepentant sky" made my heart skip a beat!! Beautifully executed.

Old Egg said...

How beautifully written this amazing contemplation on dying is with such thoughts for her "tormentors" in her lifetime.

Martin Kloess said...

Well, this definitively was another side to "it". You did an excellent job wrenching at my feelings.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

"....a hundred clowns away from truth".......wow! And that closing line....Susie, this is a powerful write!

Jim said...

Can suicide be revenge? For sure he'll need someone else to harass and conquer her spirit next. I sensed one leaving this earth, thinking alternately rationally and incoherently. Fine writing, Susie.
..

Kim Russell said...

The most chilling lines for me are:
'I hate parades. This march of black sleeves
parading across my cheeks seeking notice
is a hundred clowns away from truth'
and
'I will be the roar in a pillowed head counting sheep,
a stalking wolf devouring rest, a wraith ushering
my tormentors into the open throat of their madness'.
Nicely done, Susie.

Julian said...

Wow, for me this is brilliant with its many hypocritical truths laced through your lines.

Kerry O'Connor said...

I like the new look of your blog, Susie. It is very classy and minimalist.

Your poem awakens many thoughts concerning cause and effect - that old trope of sin, confession and absolution. I like that your speaker remains kind of unrepentant for having lived.

hedgewitch said...

"Here in this time before wings I gather names...' really a knockout line, Susie, and the whole poem is full of them--I end up thinking the dead must be able to feel, after all.

brudberg said...

Do not go gently is what I feel... love the stanza with the voices at night... best way to avenge a tormentor

Jilly said...

'Gather names in the hollow cave of my breast' Brillaintly written line in a poem filled with strong images;evocative of so much emotion. Well done!

Helen said...

Yes, your poem is incredibly powerful ~ and fierce. Great write!!

Fireblossom said...

What Sherry said!

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