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

Saturday, July 8, 2017

In 1968



In 1968….

I was wild weed drifting
in flash notes when July burned
deliverance into blue eyes.
Naïve had long been plucked
from fragile leaves, but I blushed
the virgin pink of a first kiss.

Born female in a stone garden
I was feral glass, boot high,
waiting for the next shattering.
In the summer hum of guitars
you were a place of roots, sunshine,
a prince guiding my heart to my own rescue.

In 1968…

My world turned upside down
and I wasn’t hurt in the fall.

©Susie Clevenger 2017

My poem was inspired by these beautiful photos.

19 comments :

plum said...

"but I blushed
the virgin pink of a first kiss.

Born female in a stone garden
I was feral glass, boot high,
waiting for the next shattering"

Swoon.

kaykuala said...

you were a place of roots, sunshine,
a prince guiding my heart to my own rescue

How lucky to have someone who had extended a helping hand when one was in real need!

Hank

Outlawyer said...

I love the idea of being boot high--so many undertones in that == and overtones--I am picturing Nancy Sinatra! Thanks, Susie--super sweet. k.

Martin Kloess said...

Ah... those times, so rich. Now there in a garden, ever to bloom. Thank you.

Magaly Guerrero said...

In this world of chaos and dead ends, a voice that teaches us how to guide ourselves is the greatest of gifts. Yay, for your Prince.

brudberg said...

Somehow all your image tied so much into my image of 1968. To have been part of that is like a creation process through destruction. A mended heart is so much more beautiful

Kim Russell said...

I love this poem, Susie! Especially the lines:
'Naïve had long been plucked
from fragile leaves, but I blushed
the virgin pink of a first kiss'
and
'I was feral glass, boot high,
waiting for the next shattering'.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

"Naïve had long been plucked from fragile leaves, but I blushed the virgin pink of a first kiss" ... this is so beautiful!

Kerry O'Connor said...

What a wonderful way to remember the moment and the one who caught you up as you fell. This poem is so romantic, without sentiment, authentic and heartfelt.

hedgewitch said...

I especially love the final long stanza, Susie--and I remember well the flashing brilliance and destruction of those times from which we emerged in all our broken glass glory.

Old Egg said...

This took me back so many years and yet I regret not one moment of them as I stood tapping my feet to the beat of the band that stranger to me now.

Fireblossom said...

That is just the best kind of fall there can be.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

"feral glass, waiting for the next shattering". Wowzers, you know how to Use Your Words. Wonderful, Susie. And I love the happy ending! which was a beginning and still going on.......

Antonio said...

beautiful poem....congratulations!
1968 was a special year....

WildChild47 said...

stunning from start to finish

Toni Spencer said...

I often have to remind myself that broken or specially cut glass can make beautiful images when set in lead. I totally relate to this wonderful poem! Beautiful work.

rhymeswithbug.com said...

this is so real it carries us back to another time

ayala said...

A lovely capture, Susie.

Marian said...

I love this, Susie.

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