tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31749474578236803822024-03-14T00:16:16.767-05:00Confessions Of A Laundry Goddess"I am hearing poetry when awake,
dreaming poetry when asleep,
breathing poetry with each breath,
I am living in a poem."Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.comBlogger1867125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-53785296670139603142024-03-02T17:10:00.002-06:002024-03-04T00:02:03.794-06:00Melancholy is a Season Not a Sentence<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyDAcV58tg3kAHA29ujHrQRx9801IPMGSrgS04YqzuQeTGcRe3KJgXVqD-K1RLtZ8ISaO9jFqXu5UbcK1JTfZtkqCPs4I0IJJZTOvRRWv2Cm8s0HhzPMfBuwRhXHpYI5bSWw3pbF4NfoQ5JjAu2RMWkHnr5UeAb9cqS8hyyamSwO6LJuiH_UrjjRWpcw/s3984/pexels-isaque-pereira-394376.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3984" data-original-width="2988" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyDAcV58tg3kAHA29ujHrQRx9801IPMGSrgS04YqzuQeTGcRe3KJgXVqD-K1RLtZ8ISaO9jFqXu5UbcK1JTfZtkqCPs4I0IJJZTOvRRWv2Cm8s0HhzPMfBuwRhXHpYI5bSWw3pbF4NfoQ5JjAu2RMWkHnr5UeAb9cqS8hyyamSwO6LJuiH_UrjjRWpcw/s320/pexels-isaque-pereira-394376.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It’s not just a feather</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but a wing note</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">begging to be translated </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">with eyes of ink that sees</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">poetry before it’s written.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It’s not just a thing left</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">to be bruised by a footprint</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but a sign healing defies gravity.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It’s not just a reminder</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">of how much was lost</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but the voice of wind</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> encouraging the spirit</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">melancholy is a season not a sentence. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It’s not just a plume </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but hope that waits patiently</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">for you to remember </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">you already know how to fly.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">©Susie Clevenger 2024</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2024/02/not-just-cup-of-tea.html">What's Going On - Just a Cup of Tea</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxT68Cs897On9BC8dS7RrNh8IU4RPwuEVP4lDFf9NthddVlGonf9XpYReOie2L_diOdwpENY1l8lVQQofwsOQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /></div></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-9167711971991549002023-12-10T13:54:00.004-06:002023-12-10T14:32:52.213-06:00Dance of Leaf Flames<p></p><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKsi7xcF0FtjjXQvMkfzwcSjtx_kNvMBCauBNr814cLhL4CZtbLRypxXGESF9fQe88weR6BsW3YoUl46RGmbgdT_xIocB4m_a9Llfrg3mBA9i2CCC7xdnOLByLhyphenhyphend1PWit1AnAN0DA6hZsrokW_XLll_PKefHisz0A8mturg6kaKfSXz9OtCitzL5Pg7Q/s1920/oak-leaves-3832626_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1920" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKsi7xcF0FtjjXQvMkfzwcSjtx_kNvMBCauBNr814cLhL4CZtbLRypxXGESF9fQe88weR6BsW3YoUl46RGmbgdT_xIocB4m_a9Llfrg3mBA9i2CCC7xdnOLByLhyphenhyphend1PWit1AnAN0DA6hZsrokW_XLll_PKefHisz0A8mturg6kaKfSXz9OtCitzL5Pg7Q/w358-h224/oak-leaves-3832626_1920.jpg" width="358" /></a></div></div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">I dance with the dead,</div><div style="text-align: center;">revel in the fallen splashes</div><div style="text-align: center;">of color as they haunt the wind.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></o:p><div style="text-align: center;">Oak leaves that summer stained blue sky</div><div style="text-align: center;">with paint brush leaves of green now</div><div style="text-align: center;">fall in cascades of orange and red.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></o:p><div style="text-align: center;">Limbs stripped to their wooded bones</div><div style="text-align: center;">speak of winter coming to frost night</div><div style="text-align: center;">with sparkled shivers of dreams roaming indigo.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></o:p><div style="text-align: center;">Caught in swirls of leaf flames I feel</div><div style="text-align: center;">my childhood open its door of wonder</div><div style="text-align: center;">to memories of the oak cradling my secrets.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></o:p><div style="text-align: center;">Standing on sturdy roots I let them feed my spirit</div><div style="text-align: center;">the power of resiliency to grow even in a world</div><div style="text-align: center;">that seeks to mold me into something other than myself.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></o:p><div style="text-align: center;">Dear Oak, you mothered me when I had no voice.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Taught me how to bend without breaking, find the song</div><div style="text-align: center;">in my tears and find grace when smothered in drought.</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></o:p><o:p><div style="text-align: center;">©Susie Clevenger 2023</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2023/12/the-tongues-of-falling-trees.html">What's Going On? ~ The Tongues of Falling Trees</a></div></o:p></div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p> </o:p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div></blockquote><p> </p><p> </p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-19844266326403382752023-11-06T09:46:00.000-06:002023-11-06T09:46:22.208-06:00My Green Tabernacle <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEfUMPFIJ8juIh96IYkZbKomaJdYdlbfgknpyVTSo4U3G5RTVTvJD0MmSMmJhND__56goJQAjpmXJtE8y57KJa4oiBt8qysR6LGCwB9uKwU6VhuBTFkzmhBUxnLfEwf5yCrY_dBCZCk2MAz8T6i7e273E4O689GuabzNnhUYXOYfn5G7eJkhyphenhyphenEHvaxoY/s3600/IMG_7407.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="2400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEfUMPFIJ8juIh96IYkZbKomaJdYdlbfgknpyVTSo4U3G5RTVTvJD0MmSMmJhND__56goJQAjpmXJtE8y57KJa4oiBt8qysR6LGCwB9uKwU6VhuBTFkzmhBUxnLfEwf5yCrY_dBCZCk2MAz8T6i7e273E4O689GuabzNnhUYXOYfn5G7eJkhyphenhyphenEHvaxoY/s320/IMG_7407.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">My tabernacle is the woods</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">beyond the glass of my window. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It is there survival speaks to me, where hope grows the smallest green leaf on drought’s ravaged limb. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">As I venture outside the glass, I am embraced by wind’s sermon of light that bears none of the restraints of man’s definition of God. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It is among the swaying hymns my heart is nurtured, my soul communes with joy, and my spirit finds the strength to persevere. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;">Susie Clevenger 2023</p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><br /><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px; text-align: center;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 26px;"><span class="s2" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-79860658490419786892023-08-14T17:58:00.001-05:002023-08-14T18:14:52.252-05:00Youth Never Cared About the Wilting<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MvMUkV216lhy0BqvicYl_8ZSh5t0BKXXaCNbwem9Hz34_n5NBrKa1BiClZ3tEjKDEbNM-IWOW7fhJKcTP7FMzl_GtxYzNdpumog8L2m85PFyyIDAFopWQnjCMrEkEibZZ3lPNf0bIzVAk8yY8k5ykNzLS0fFBR2BCnAwbEuX6Cz_AOs5mrGgTyceHE8/s2400/david-todd-mccarty-KASx-ultliM-unsplash.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="2400" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MvMUkV216lhy0BqvicYl_8ZSh5t0BKXXaCNbwem9Hz34_n5NBrKa1BiClZ3tEjKDEbNM-IWOW7fhJKcTP7FMzl_GtxYzNdpumog8L2m85PFyyIDAFopWQnjCMrEkEibZZ3lPNf0bIzVAk8yY8k5ykNzLS0fFBR2BCnAwbEuX6Cz_AOs5mrGgTyceHE8/s320/david-todd-mccarty-KASx-ultliM-unsplash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div><div style="text-align: center;">August falls on us with its itchy wool sweater</div><div style="text-align: center;">of dusty days and we wonder if hell laughs at our discomfort. </div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We tire of being a prisoner of a grouchy month</div><div style="text-align: center;">that burns color from our garden as if pink</div><div style="text-align: center;">was an insult to the brown yarn of dead stems.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">What irony to have chosen so many years ago</div><div style="text-align: center;">this very month to have our wedding, but youth</div><div style="text-align: center;">never cared about the wilting, only the dream.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thank goodness August has never been able to</div><div style="text-align: center;">sacrifice love to its temper or toss two hearts</div><div style="text-align: center;">onto its pyre to burn passion into ash.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh dear husband we’ve weathered so much,</div><div style="text-align: center;">so many Augusts have walked across calendars. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Within the shrewish breath of drought we still thrive.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Love is a garden that grows even when </div><div style="text-align: center;">the gardener’s only tools are boxes of matches. </div></div><p style="text-align: center;">©Susie Clevenger 2023</p><div style="text-align: center;">My husband, Charlie, has just begun treatment for Multiple Myeloma.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Like every August since that first one in 1970 we will walk this August together.<br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-90821815363091963392023-04-30T07:39:00.005-05:002023-04-30T07:39:41.834-05:00On Frayed Thread<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6H6ZMho4J0ophh_htP0brz4OsADo7isyASOedlt0_ZrVCgfD6G0ItKwTi0KRZe8rKN_P6NrdrO3smOW2JSuTTBc9oRI5xd-Ao8MoKGnS_u8qxq5wwoxJ84uNaU82IjpE3BFeWLvWwH14JpTQkLEH-XVKMTViB7hGBn3aZQ85Lvehzn68jRaFlJxS/s2880/pexels-cottonbro-studio-7670316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6H6ZMho4J0ophh_htP0brz4OsADo7isyASOedlt0_ZrVCgfD6G0ItKwTi0KRZe8rKN_P6NrdrO3smOW2JSuTTBc9oRI5xd-Ao8MoKGnS_u8qxq5wwoxJ84uNaU82IjpE3BFeWLvWwH14JpTQkLEH-XVKMTViB7hGBn3aZQ85Lvehzn68jRaFlJxS/s320/pexels-cottonbro-studio-7670316.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Say Something – Written by </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ian Axel and Chad King</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Nothing hurts more than</div><div>a question hung on a frayed</div><div>thread of silence.</div><div><br /></div><div>No would have been a cleaner cut</div><div>than the haunting ghost of indifference.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you don’t love me, at least give</div><div>me the wound of saying it.</div><div><br /></div></div></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">©Susie Clevenger 2023</div> <p></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-82889374967750284572023-04-29T08:42:00.000-05:002023-04-29T08:42:18.025-05:00A Change is Coming<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqw34V0SpMEJdcjAqG75gucvYLC8vEJJ3yvHeyIY5kqp6aOb6ogM7H_uGYh1YXGgixzT4BmVhwzq3QQREgKdA_m-k7_BGVJZ7X78DfwadeFtBCawmcPUGpickrrYfoNDtTNUSEBbt54dRlBbh4bAQaCNPBy4VfL4F-RwoMCdhclKX5iAGIRy89d-y1/s1920/hakon-grimstad-hteXWSF9jA4-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1195" data-original-width="1920" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqw34V0SpMEJdcjAqG75gucvYLC8vEJJ3yvHeyIY5kqp6aOb6ogM7H_uGYh1YXGgixzT4BmVhwzq3QQREgKdA_m-k7_BGVJZ7X78DfwadeFtBCawmcPUGpickrrYfoNDtTNUSEBbt54dRlBbh4bAQaCNPBy4VfL4F-RwoMCdhclKX5iAGIRy89d-y1/s320/hakon-grimstad-hteXWSF9jA4-unsplash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">A Change is Gonna Come – Written by Sam Cooke</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">The river is reversed, gotten narrow, taking life</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>back while preaching it’s flowing forward.</div><div><br /></div><div>Old men run the world silencing voices, damning difference,</div><div>tying apron strings to women’s wrists and putting</div><div>a boot on their womb telling them their bodies are not their own.</div><div><br /></div><div>Singing holy, holy while their tongues keep beat with hypocritical.</div><div>They’re so full of noise they’ve gone deaf. </div><div><br /></div><div>While men thump their chest of privilege, butterflies are emerging, </div><div>Their wings look fragile, but they can survive a hurricane.</div><div>They are fighting their way out of what’s holding them back.</div><div>Watch the youth…They’re the change that’s coming. </div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-18234630831749364392023-04-28T14:54:00.000-05:002023-04-28T14:54:05.000-05:00Nothing Emptier Than Never<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtMEKNU-PTOSmp2ydXdyhIEGwjtIIf-DvVa8LAT0d202eO70WDnLgfU8UET5n_tPcEmg0lxJWYo5qCztkOovm3tbYCn1dxL5c6gxzxPaCAmkXgSYOtgW6RsOyVCDDc4EnoliREnK6TQC44uK_PWz_YZzsussKFYvVbdIypU5dgQ9Q0I2fRwToErxZ-/s2559/alice-alinari-apYiDRNa-pY-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2559" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtMEKNU-PTOSmp2ydXdyhIEGwjtIIf-DvVa8LAT0d202eO70WDnLgfU8UET5n_tPcEmg0lxJWYo5qCztkOovm3tbYCn1dxL5c6gxzxPaCAmkXgSYOtgW6RsOyVCDDc4EnoliREnK6TQC44uK_PWz_YZzsussKFYvVbdIypU5dgQ9Q0I2fRwToErxZ-/s320/alice-alinari-apYiDRNa-pY-unsplash.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">My Immortal – Written by Ben Moody</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You’re a room of knives</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I can’t escape.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Everywhere I look I see your face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I wish I could scar, move on,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but I bleed every memory</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">of you in my arms.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There’s nothing emptier than never,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">a hollow haunting of yearning for your return.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I hang from a mirror dancing in your reflection.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh tomorrow please cut the string. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">©Susie Clevenger 2023 </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: small;"><br /></div></div><p><br /> </p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-7582537404736660472023-04-27T11:49:00.001-05:002023-04-27T11:49:39.929-05:00So Much Ice in Invisible<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkdMZu0Xw49LXHeVc1q1A-oOIbbFEgGLH6_UPDp7Zo5iXt6u5Qm4gO3WtML8bapU-O5AiRWeKaNWLP8mVsxcHMPGaD5RHSmR7QRZokve53VK0_pPrG2ivYULSnyCEo0UDQR_cVNtYDrJ708JxXReXp-NYrNf0MTa-iB3d8wouRVNVIrIuqNU3GBJu/s2880/alexander-grey-2L50Or-nJDw-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkdMZu0Xw49LXHeVc1q1A-oOIbbFEgGLH6_UPDp7Zo5iXt6u5Qm4gO3WtML8bapU-O5AiRWeKaNWLP8mVsxcHMPGaD5RHSmR7QRZokve53VK0_pPrG2ivYULSnyCEo0UDQR_cVNtYDrJ708JxXReXp-NYrNf0MTa-iB3d8wouRVNVIrIuqNU3GBJu/s320/alexander-grey-2L50Or-nJDw-unsplash.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Strange Birds –– Written by</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Sia Furler & Birdy</div></span></div><p></p><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>There’s a thousand voices</div><div>inside of me, journals of questions</div><div>no one has never asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>I’m the odd bird.</div><div>The one that flies,</div><div>but can never land.</div><div><br /></div><div>How did I become invisible?</div><div><br /></div><div>I’m the echo without a voice,</div><div>a shadow you pass, but never touch.</div><div><br /></div><div>I’m beautiful to the blind.</div><div>A song on the wind no one hears.</div><div><br /></div><div>Is there someone who will light a match,</div><div>hear my heartbeat, take a photograph?</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s always winter in invisible. </div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-9787261107484514822023-04-26T10:29:00.002-05:002023-04-26T10:29:08.201-05:00 I’ll Tie Your Shoelaces <p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKup1o5n2U0WSeHvVXiY1KnK0NQxw8uFLATR7_3gIl0iQAzrrFs0K7wytKrOjD83Jd2v85xTuQqPShDWr31u0f2K5fR43bt63fepKwW6aoYSrRu_ZHheXNr8ZxFN6l0HPDDFj9sraMDWXrSSts-jU94Rqra48BGpZ5ZKynwmYke1Kk7emU0DReI31P/s2880/pexels-anna-shvets-4557648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKup1o5n2U0WSeHvVXiY1KnK0NQxw8uFLATR7_3gIl0iQAzrrFs0K7wytKrOjD83Jd2v85xTuQqPShDWr31u0f2K5fR43bt63fepKwW6aoYSrRu_ZHheXNr8ZxFN6l0HPDDFj9sraMDWXrSSts-jU94Rqra48BGpZ5ZKynwmYke1Kk7emU0DReI31P/s320/pexels-anna-shvets-4557648.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I’ll Stand by You –– Written by Chrissie Hynde</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">I’ll be here when there are endings,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>when your heart spins out of control,</div><div>or night lingers too far into sunrise.</div><div><br /></div><div>Scream into my shoulder, cry in my arms.</div><div>When steps feel like a marathon, I’ll</div><div>tie your shoelaces, hold your arm</div><div>so you won’t fall.</div><div><br /></div><div>You’ve been there when I broke,</div><div>held me together until I could</div><div>figure out how to be whole.</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s my turn to help you carry</div><div>what you can’t bear alone.</div><div><br /></div><div> © Susie Clevenger</div><div><br /></div></div><p><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-25400853284238194242023-04-25T08:01:00.001-05:002023-04-25T08:01:19.336-05:00The Wild in Me Wants to Run<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_qkaCGnhF9_aRC8jFUwa1txJvZVTkI-hPUwp2gxP664359jTMdNNTNyIGj_DLk4U6nk8zxx6MLCQCmiF60wf9KwNxnqd2UeJwVlNgmJrLxkk7SYChk2xK0YWeSRZfzOQvu-pWDvdALCUGtv7oJbAQOm-0JY1ivjQ7n2cACSCgFd8rTM-GT8KQxj1/s1920/pexels-andrea-piacquadio-3779998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_qkaCGnhF9_aRC8jFUwa1txJvZVTkI-hPUwp2gxP664359jTMdNNTNyIGj_DLk4U6nk8zxx6MLCQCmiF60wf9KwNxnqd2UeJwVlNgmJrLxkk7SYChk2xK0YWeSRZfzOQvu-pWDvdALCUGtv7oJbAQOm-0JY1ivjQ7n2cACSCgFd8rTM-GT8KQxj1/s320/pexels-andrea-piacquadio-3779998.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">“Killing Me Softly” – Written by Norman Gimbel and Charles Fox</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">If I fall, no I already fell, the bed I’ve made</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>is a stone of my own design.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am on your guitar strings,</div><div>lyrics that sing of my mistakes,</div><div>the emptiness of a valley of failures.</div><div><br /></div><div>The wild in me wants to run,</div><div>a child with a bloody knee</div><div>with eyes on the finish line.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, give me courage to rise,</div><div>not pick up my heavy suitcase pain,</div><div>and camp on the edge of disappointment.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to be blue eye sky,</div><div>a dreamer who keeps looking up</div><div>when all she feels is ground.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are so many choices to make.</div><div>Don’t let me be my own sad song.</div><div> </div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-21593098846285456622023-04-24T10:03:00.005-05:002023-04-24T10:03:38.701-05:00Fisted Pansies<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUauPRQ8gitgbtpTFSD88zNM57Zv2JCx3ZNKr62vj5emIhqGSDut8Jilo3oSbdaEtTPVLBLE1hwiNfJE31lLQAppGSAI4yo1tdHEksIHWIwRGaepdx94Ipi20Ie2CSFDQ6HfKYkGJIAZrLXCa1xkDMe2AHL7jWR7w4FNuvKg2Ynjr7wEVkRRF-8Zb-/s2880/pexels-nataliya-vaitkevich-5643925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUauPRQ8gitgbtpTFSD88zNM57Zv2JCx3ZNKr62vj5emIhqGSDut8Jilo3oSbdaEtTPVLBLE1hwiNfJE31lLQAppGSAI4yo1tdHEksIHWIwRGaepdx94Ipi20Ie2CSFDQ6HfKYkGJIAZrLXCa1xkDMe2AHL7jWR7w4FNuvKg2Ynjr7wEVkRRF-8Zb-/s320/pexels-nataliya-vaitkevich-5643925.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">“It looks ugly, but it's clean</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh mamma, don't fuss over me”</div><div style="text-align: center;">“Cherry Wine” Written by Andrew Hozier-Byrne</div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He loves purple, fisted pansies</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">that bring out the blue in my eyes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I’m a garden he tends,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">a flower he plants, a stem he bends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I’m a vase full of his mistakes,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">vocabulary that breaks him</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">into glass when my splinter words</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">never know where skin is thin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There’s always an after in the same as before.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He tells me he loves me even when I fail him,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">and patches the walls with let’s begin again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh, mama don’ t worry…Today is full of sun.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He has a fascination with bullets,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but promised he’d never own a gun. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">©Susie Clevenger 2023</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: small;"><br /></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-30462402825345040962023-04-23T10:03:00.000-05:002023-04-23T10:03:01.944-05:00I Was Paris and You Were New York<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwpmun9fhRDW1KqIc2PY1ffWozDA1Lfn67MtHdwWakHj8Qx2VWuiL5Ru7kWGHEnlZxpG_gd_g5ji5wgxY_3qwng7VK_GDk6DEW40-D_msjcBIlTw66eC04m85yLfy1PMzHWbvXZE_6j_L9RKkUfZgXWLIiTsggMonR7LlrWgQ7zK1dTA4GVgvQjzA/s632/Cafe%20Terrace%20at%20Night%20Vincent%20Van%20Gogh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="474" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwpmun9fhRDW1KqIc2PY1ffWozDA1Lfn67MtHdwWakHj8Qx2VWuiL5Ru7kWGHEnlZxpG_gd_g5ji5wgxY_3qwng7VK_GDk6DEW40-D_msjcBIlTw66eC04m85yLfy1PMzHWbvXZE_6j_L9RKkUfZgXWLIiTsggMonR7LlrWgQ7zK1dTA4GVgvQjzA/s320/Cafe%20Terrace%20at%20Night%20Vincent%20Van%20Gogh.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">“Café Terrace at Night” –– Vincent Van Gogh</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">We drank our coffee with starlight caramel,</div><div style="text-align: center;">and summer’s sweet air of mystique.</div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div>Quietly painted with twilight we were</div><div>oblivious to the last sigh of romance</div><div>hung from a moon rushing toward September.</div><div><br /></div><div>Caught in a spell of passion we ignored</div><div>each pearl of warm days would eventually</div><div>succumb to the chill of separation.</div><div><br /></div><div>We never spoke, “I love you” or “forever”.</div><div>I was Paris and you were New York.</div><div>The world was too large, the sea too wide</div><div>for us to have more than a summer. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now in the silver of my days I dream of you,</div><div>and tenderly shuffle through my soul’s photographs</div><div>wondering if you remember me. </div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-69132686743127850612023-04-22T09:49:00.006-05:002023-04-22T09:49:52.649-05:00Every Day in America<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnraXWfBcTGqhj_1aFTtFoQlVP-GQ1Y3W-4oPHldnecF3pCABQabvZzR_2tfEWxDz2rS0ItDmGVwuypaxeje3KHmVNC6lhmMxru_EDsC0ZzoeD760l6qLimgJwdDvXUBnYPjGaKN1CVdgnp0O6m6p_TsJnEVH2Kg6rEqaW1u6-eq5LRFV7zKyer0B/s950/American%20Village%20Edward%20Hopper.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="950" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnraXWfBcTGqhj_1aFTtFoQlVP-GQ1Y3W-4oPHldnecF3pCABQabvZzR_2tfEWxDz2rS0ItDmGVwuypaxeje3KHmVNC6lhmMxru_EDsC0ZzoeD760l6qLimgJwdDvXUBnYPjGaKN1CVdgnp0O6m6p_TsJnEVH2Kg6rEqaW1u6-eq5LRFV7zKyer0B/s320/American%20Village%20Edward%20Hopper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">American Village –– Edward Hopper</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>On every street routine punches its timeclock</div><div>until Mother Nature or human shreds time into heartbreak.</div><div><br /></div><div>Idyllic holds its breath, swims minutes of peace</div><div>hoping the river of circumstances will not</div><div>breach its bank to usher in horror.</div><div><br /></div><div>Each day hope holds on to its lifeline, counts blessings,</div><div>and evades asking if it has enough strength to survive</div><div>weather or the hell of men. </div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div><div style="font-size: small;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-48164530980254938932023-04-21T09:26:00.004-05:002023-04-21T09:26:39.763-05:00They Ask Her to Shine Under Their Net<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIF-oTu96uS-_tt5d6KvgMP-pmKWOF_lLcfKDP58rK0p76b2NXRdR9Bispso3w50tRVUabnUek1qjcRxHHRxElloItxNEyb00XXyofFJdn0KtBvHT-jmHyvdYwVF7Tk7VBPgbjgnKysgJX12DcOQEzQoi6h9l9QlHMCxQ1_RX0u3c0uIE98nK9JJh_/s1080/Flaming%20June%20by%20Frederic%20Leighton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1079" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIF-oTu96uS-_tt5d6KvgMP-pmKWOF_lLcfKDP58rK0p76b2NXRdR9Bispso3w50tRVUabnUek1qjcRxHHRxElloItxNEyb00XXyofFJdn0KtBvHT-jmHyvdYwVF7Tk7VBPgbjgnKysgJX12DcOQEzQoi6h9l9QlHMCxQ1_RX0u3c0uIE98nK9JJh_/s320/Flaming%20June%20by%20Frederic%20Leighton.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Flaming June –– Frederic Leighton </span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">Death suits her as she naps,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>a sun goddess burning time</div><div>into ashes of opinions.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is not a physical death,</div><div>but the exhaustion of enduring</div><div>men’s explanations of all things feminine.</div><div><br /></div><div>They fantasize what she should be,</div><div>boast of her beauty, attempt to cage her</div><div>in their allowances, but scream fowl</div><div>when she resists.</div><div><br /></div><div>She looks delicate, malleable, but she</div><div>is fierce, a descendent of women </div><div>who refused attempts to groom them</div><div>into submissive ribs of men. </div><div> </div><div>Beware when she awakens.</div><div>She will be rested, and if the</div><div>male ego feels brave enough</div><div>to attempt blame and shame,</div><div>she won’t be the one left scarred.</div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-32578580484101612492023-04-20T11:56:00.004-05:002023-04-20T11:56:48.338-05:00Thirst for Color<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aLV44lV_Vk8ZBxOfwQo8dCdwirzfxwHjwf4K__tEd25xZKpTXFoSGJ38LMzyZTk3wyxkgmwBVXYUyU3_bMypitWnMQ58By_oQq8135iuiUYmHsWX6yUnLaxDAt8DldECfCYdto8Gfmrq3rrj5q73_Ojc1-rATqbJ-IJlp2e6bzIUhIlfj2EkKvBj/s1607/Water%20Lillies%20-%20Claude%20Monet.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1607" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aLV44lV_Vk8ZBxOfwQo8dCdwirzfxwHjwf4K__tEd25xZKpTXFoSGJ38LMzyZTk3wyxkgmwBVXYUyU3_bMypitWnMQ58By_oQq8135iuiUYmHsWX6yUnLaxDAt8DldECfCYdto8Gfmrq3rrj5q73_Ojc1-rATqbJ-IJlp2e6bzIUhIlfj2EkKvBj/s320/Water%20Lillies%20-%20Claude%20Monet.jpeg" width="319" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Water Lillies –– Claude Monet</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I thirst for color as the wild morning thirsts for light.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Where others are content living in gray spaces,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">my spirit craves the vibrant paintbrush of nature.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">If I could, I’d live as a water lily floating a lake mirror</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">that reflects the face of blue sky and blushes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">of white cotton cheeks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life is a mere wink, a phantom in the corner</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">of Mother Nature’s eye, but what glory I’ve</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">been given to walk her gallery of seasons.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I’ve had days of bright yellow, rose lips of wonder,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">and breathed Lavender to calm my spirit</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">in the obsidian valley of grief. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In this season of Spring I wear bright purple</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">with specks of dandelion, a moon seed </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">that can bloom even on days without sun. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">© Susie Clevenger</div><div><br /></div></div><p><br /></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-37219412302854828162023-04-19T09:59:00.001-05:002023-04-19T09:59:10.739-05:00Morning in Midnight’s Bath<div style="text-align: center;"> "I seated ugliness on my knee, and almost</div><div style="text-align: center;"> immediately grew tired of it."</div><div style="text-align: center;">- Salvador Dali.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaP1c69Rn1NjuEtQBE3tgaheJ3r19kXHBzJr4zKhb5pRGS8FnN9bGEmB69OdaHWcoZ5NnAzEdiPfaitpKGVtuI90fUAwONheAoNq5Zb5IRiXHT3kI-DR-590ulp0xD5zBujEMcVdEcs_9m6phVH7Lgn6Rv-03YAUwPvDdCgG0irmqwpDqifSH__xqM/s600/Shades%20of%20Night%20Descending%20-%20Salvador%20Dali.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="489" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaP1c69Rn1NjuEtQBE3tgaheJ3r19kXHBzJr4zKhb5pRGS8FnN9bGEmB69OdaHWcoZ5NnAzEdiPfaitpKGVtuI90fUAwONheAoNq5Zb5IRiXHT3kI-DR-590ulp0xD5zBujEMcVdEcs_9m6phVH7Lgn6Rv-03YAUwPvDdCgG0irmqwpDqifSH__xqM/s320/Shades%20of%20Night%20Descending%20-%20Salvador%20Dali.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Shades of Night Descending, 1931 by Salvador Dali</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>In the desert of obscure</div><div>I plant myself as a rock.</div><div><br /></div><div>No matter how weathered</div><div>or man carved by knife</div><div>I remain the enigma</div><div>the devil argues with.</div><div><br /></div><div>The rainfall of shadows</div><div>has tried to drown me,</div><div>flood me with dubiety </div><div>but I remain morning</div><div>in midnight’s bath.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was formed beneath a bully’s boot</div><div>pressed on my chest, defiant marble risen</div><div>from the rotted breath of abuse.</div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div><div><br /></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-54499974075212685122023-04-18T09:00:00.004-05:002023-04-18T09:03:49.123-05:00 Uncharted Horizons Within<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><div>“Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.”</div><div><br /></div><div>― Virginia Woolf, Jacob's Room</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFawjs3YcaRTM2IUm_1pRf2TqkftCFfZCPvWb7wLKUI3FnDNGfmeje9-xLg4ERNZlU5XvpQpVC5dCf4xOeQJ6D8uqv50ZBG7ebAT8iGKAfUcXHOkam5pqlgKbyonSY8zU0l30e7AJ_kF9l1A6GtoU5PFxnd_TmHoTRHvFBqkA6IvY3fhu-NuqnfN3y/s736/Mustangs%20of%20Las%20Colinas%20Texas%20~%20Robert%20Glen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="736" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFawjs3YcaRTM2IUm_1pRf2TqkftCFfZCPvWb7wLKUI3FnDNGfmeje9-xLg4ERNZlU5XvpQpVC5dCf4xOeQJ6D8uqv50ZBG7ebAT8iGKAfUcXHOkam5pqlgKbyonSY8zU0l30e7AJ_kF9l1A6GtoU5PFxnd_TmHoTRHvFBqkA6IvY3fhu-NuqnfN3y/w400-h174/Mustangs%20of%20Las%20Colinas%20Texas%20~%20Robert%20Glen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Mustangs of Las Colinas –– Robert Glen</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In me is a wilderness, a voice, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">a path where nothing restrains,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">demands explanation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I was born with nature’s psalms</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">written on each heartbeat,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">wild mustang words full of sky,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">wings, and oak leaves encouraging me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">to embrace my freedom. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sitting still I’m moving; in silence I speak.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am lightening and thunder, bright fuchsia</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">and gray dust shadow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am so many things and so much more to become.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There are uncharted horizons within me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I grow more anxious to explore. </div><div style="font-size: small;"><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-63612186752496684952023-04-17T08:15:00.001-05:002023-04-17T08:17:40.226-05:00Window of Stars<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVJdYikXMssT0qdqlTrTz0nglIFuzl8IGx6a0N2BRiA48TpGDKvHyLUcI_BT5lJwRQvytZMXhRGwpfEMfmyWcFldwXlBF2KFC1dKanosX6o5WHbIYxwOaURKlJpDfuqDEOshdNBa1gmkVng_pXT1fnZpHr3l2-smmj629QyeZohplO0sMdhUWc-Ru/s474/Starry%20Night%20-%20Vincent%20Van%20Gogh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="371" data-original-width="474" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVJdYikXMssT0qdqlTrTz0nglIFuzl8IGx6a0N2BRiA48TpGDKvHyLUcI_BT5lJwRQvytZMXhRGwpfEMfmyWcFldwXlBF2KFC1dKanosX6o5WHbIYxwOaURKlJpDfuqDEOshdNBa1gmkVng_pXT1fnZpHr3l2-smmj629QyeZohplO0sMdhUWc-Ru/s320/Starry%20Night%20-%20Vincent%20Van%20Gogh.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Starry Night –– Vincent Van Gogh</span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div>“I often think that the night is more alive and more </div><div> richly colored than the day.” –Vincent Van Gogh</div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div>May the flowers that dance in the sun</div><div>feel the praise of starlight on their petals.</div><div><br /></div><div>If not for moon pools and glitter sky,</div><div>bud and blossom would not hear</div><div>the nightingale’s heart song.</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s in the sapphire ancient voices </div><div>whisper their stories on the wind,</div><div>the owl keeps watch, feathered hands</div><div>on the time clock of shadows.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the dream state of roses velvet</div><div>petals forget about their thorns</div><div>as their scent cradles star candles</div><div>until night is filled with love sonnets. </div><div><br /></div><div>The brush tip of midnight paints</div><div>vivid strokes across heaven</div><div>until orange splashes of morning</div><div>parade across the horizon. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div><p> </p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-88567333802940666912023-04-16T15:50:00.002-05:002023-04-16T15:50:20.592-05:00Weighing Wishes<div style="text-align: center;">“In a world of apples and kisses and shoes;</div><div style="text-align: center;"> he wasted his wishes on wishing.”</div><div style="text-align: center;"> —Shei Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZbuk3HEyfeIcrs-TOShYc36isCp89YXUo5U-5D-Rsh7TfjAEm_Nd00avanLLdjxcKWTrnrc_DQpBIqZ_RX5xPQmbdibtxVPg1ynHwx_7zKRBji_PbJI_63HbTeVPvr2_tkpzYb5Ld4jrP0NNKN994Pn_WQd0NRHOG44oJYrCuTW4Cp2MMiRPOx1M/s846/winter%20apple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZbuk3HEyfeIcrs-TOShYc36isCp89YXUo5U-5D-Rsh7TfjAEm_Nd00avanLLdjxcKWTrnrc_DQpBIqZ_RX5xPQmbdibtxVPg1ynHwx_7zKRBji_PbJI_63HbTeVPvr2_tkpzYb5Ld4jrP0NNKN994Pn_WQd0NRHOG44oJYrCuTW4Cp2MMiRPOx1M/s320/winter%20apple.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div>The treachery of a wish is it rarely</div><div>stands alone…It multiplies until</div><div>you’re divided.</div><div><br /></div><div>There is comfort in asking, but</div><div>danger in insistence…What you want</div><div>too often is not what you need.</div><div><br /></div><div>Daydreaming brings its euphoria</div><div>while reality waits with its knife.</div><div><br /></div><div>Think before you wish, and say</div><div>thank you if it is granted. </div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-15958896394063603422023-04-15T12:42:00.002-05:002023-04-15T12:42:39.786-05:00Truth is on the Endangered List<div style="text-align: center;"> “Would that it were so simple.”</div><div style="text-align: center;">— Hail, Caesar! (2016)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBm9oasH8Vichf3Og8Szz9jnSm-6Ob0o1xj7wjw1s4z_E2xwqL-guRZ9uX4o3b7-zPcz9ixEYfbqArHCzrYphAfWd8QMoOKg1vq7zosB8q8saRSrhH-AgjLqIYfrgHpV-Fk8e81zg0MDXLhBfKSojpEWNeMK1nAJ7sThSZgxiqrreDVIla_j3udcs/s1920/marten-newhall-uAFjFsMS3YY-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBm9oasH8Vichf3Og8Szz9jnSm-6Ob0o1xj7wjw1s4z_E2xwqL-guRZ9uX4o3b7-zPcz9ixEYfbqArHCzrYphAfWd8QMoOKg1vq7zosB8q8saRSrhH-AgjLqIYfrgHpV-Fk8e81zg0MDXLhBfKSojpEWNeMK1nAJ7sThSZgxiqrreDVIla_j3udcs/s320/marten-newhall-uAFjFsMS3YY-unsplash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Why can’t truth be simple,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">not twisted on the tongue</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">to storm it with conspiracy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What I wish to believe</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">doesn’t mean it’s true.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In this day of gaslight, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">buzz words, and deflection</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I must consider who profits</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">from discord…Who dances</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">on disunion. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">If I only play follow the leader,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I can’t complain if I go over the cliff.</div><div><br /></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div><br /><div><br /></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-43956065509245499492023-04-14T12:20:00.006-05:002023-04-14T12:20:57.693-05:00Lemons, Vinegar, and BS<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">“Shaken, not stirred.” Goldfinger (1964)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBjKmxrdayQSNo16K2kWk_fw_lQnaH78RqoNtxFrtB1Ly9Qepus-i0s6Ki78iMB8MBM2IMHehzVmJCl3BmnP0H551VY0KEH0xWl0pyvAYUWhuzuHd3s-l83kiR0pgpS_gDP6iUtT26QPyCd8xN8hNM1g5RoT8i9-5omKNfwTHJrfGlMxWwqz-UhHF/s2880/Breaking%20News.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBjKmxrdayQSNo16K2kWk_fw_lQnaH78RqoNtxFrtB1Ly9Qepus-i0s6Ki78iMB8MBM2IMHehzVmJCl3BmnP0H551VY0KEH0xWl0pyvAYUWhuzuHd3s-l83kiR0pgpS_gDP6iUtT26QPyCd8xN8hNM1g5RoT8i9-5omKNfwTHJrfGlMxWwqz-UhHF/s320/Breaking%20News.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cable news is like a bar,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">it serves the shake up,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">stirs up controversy,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">and pours out head lines</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">like a happy hour drunk fest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It’s a martini made of</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">lemons, vinegar, and bullshit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They’re a table full of talking heads</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">speculating on could be, while</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">writing a new list of what “if’s</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">in case the first fails the second.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don’t care about the itinerary </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">of a criminal when kids are</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">taking to the streets to protest</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">another day of bullets bringing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">death to their schools.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-17313142876227764582023-04-13T15:06:00.000-05:002023-04-13T15:06:00.150-05:00Test the Weight of an Answer<div style="text-align: center;"> “The Uninformed must improve</div><div style="text-align: center;">their deficit or die. –– Lewis Carroll</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxquhVWVVtEOd8m8p7VHq70pzornCeUB90rt2c_ampW-tSVZGZ8prCP4cpPHh74iByVtQloKoVJJWpi3IQS-GLYR787MhBgdKzl2naqvJ47GXgn9Nuwj8NpoCl82DTk4VBC_BHDMDpWlZ7uuZebq9zDaAYM3jfuTdqwVkkHxBvBmGihfzSEz6_a3IQ/s1920/peter-van-der-vaart-DhajKTKoMzw-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxquhVWVVtEOd8m8p7VHq70pzornCeUB90rt2c_ampW-tSVZGZ8prCP4cpPHh74iByVtQloKoVJJWpi3IQS-GLYR787MhBgdKzl2naqvJ47GXgn9Nuwj8NpoCl82DTk4VBC_BHDMDpWlZ7uuZebq9zDaAYM3jfuTdqwVkkHxBvBmGihfzSEz6_a3IQ/s320/peter-van-der-vaart-DhajKTKoMzw-unsplash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Follow the leader… Swim in a blind eye.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What you never ask leads to never know.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Books are not doorstops…Words not empty paper.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Be hungry to learn … Test the weight of an answer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oblivion is a choice that leads to disaster. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">©Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div><br /><div><br /></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-31513964273432178202023-04-12T17:01:00.001-05:002023-04-12T17:01:58.213-05:002 G's of Impossible Distance<p style="text-align: center;"> “Greed, for lack of a better
word, is good.” Wall Street (1987)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbM7aF5wgOnqx9Lh4J1q0rHvL06OeBwow2hAx_vaQnihqoa50dwjG3kV0DAxxA3uOMiHgQfNzEXq-4Z7vOaN8O4RmRkqsrfIH2bErOPG-NhfHFp3y_VV3x3VgmyFtckyar-0IjIEHPSBT9KH5njv71yYHanzqX_ZfVvw38BVhIdtYHKOIN548Sy7f/s2880/pexels-cindy-shebley-15308979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbM7aF5wgOnqx9Lh4J1q0rHvL06OeBwow2hAx_vaQnihqoa50dwjG3kV0DAxxA3uOMiHgQfNzEXq-4Z7vOaN8O4RmRkqsrfIH2bErOPG-NhfHFp3y_VV3x3VgmyFtckyar-0IjIEHPSBT9KH5njv71yYHanzqX_ZfVvw38BVhIdtYHKOIN548Sy7f/s320/pexels-cindy-shebley-15308979.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Greed is always hungry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It wants to be the first in line,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">keep its plate full, bully</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">to keep others empty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Greed and Good share</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">the same first letter,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but the distance between</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">their meanings is a universe</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">selfish will never travel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Susie Clevenger 2023</div></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><o:p></o:p></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-22961301348401890022023-04-11T08:27:00.002-05:002023-04-11T17:26:02.850-05:00Living Between Hydrangea and Moon<div style="text-align: center;"> “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!”</div><div style="text-align: center;">–– Gone With the Wind ( 1939)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiWVo--Hd8bvKZo_aCYmcsGcd-Izg3aCxenCWBj5aFut9pScAi0LlAFSZ9ci1C2BBJKzapF8xd7epnmOwp17ZFNqJrX_HIC8-C7Xo_fsS-l2nu1q8-C_Q3CEmvHEUE2U4maJzX-o2YwPIHM2ze9u_l1bxKxn_zF5mdUIq_VUJRvf_dMQBxCbyamug/s2880/pexels-valeria-november-16146373.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiWVo--Hd8bvKZo_aCYmcsGcd-Izg3aCxenCWBj5aFut9pScAi0LlAFSZ9ci1C2BBJKzapF8xd7epnmOwp17ZFNqJrX_HIC8-C7Xo_fsS-l2nu1q8-C_Q3CEmvHEUE2U4maJzX-o2YwPIHM2ze9u_l1bxKxn_zF5mdUIq_VUJRvf_dMQBxCbyamug/s320/pexels-valeria-november-16146373.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Should my eyes be programmed to only </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">see death as my freedom,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">be scriptured into suffering, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">my ears tuned to songs of blood,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">to not listen to the moon because</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">that is a paegan’s melody?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The starlight in my DNA tells me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am a child of the universe, a spirit</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">born to feel eternity’s vibration</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">in the wind that turns my cheeks to rose.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The words of men too often fail the standards</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">they proclaim they possess.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fear, it is constant mantra to orchestrate obediance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There are so many things to give a damn about,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">but following what I don’t trust, don’t believe,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">strips generosity and love from me are none of them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">©Susie Clevenger 2023</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><br /><div><br /></div>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3174947457823680382.post-8880907580406757012023-04-10T09:29:00.009-05:002023-04-10T09:29:56.532-05:00Confirmation<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><div>“Knowing was a temptation.</div><div> What you don’t know won’t tempt you.”</div><div>––– Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguBPanFbdNkdmvNHKt51rXQc7fRSBCA9zmvxHz6frhJTgVR3_9dg7WEUiW9IXj2ScFyAA_KVvT63x5310u5CrEd50s9gt86SoQIa1woa757JAyWj3PSD5mzUcLS5ntT_C79vLxWOTQjhYx-R1RpuTFJFrMx-GM-4pmmWkuBfTxmiL8IxnSon55VMdI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="292" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguBPanFbdNkdmvNHKt51rXQc7fRSBCA9zmvxHz6frhJTgVR3_9dg7WEUiW9IXj2ScFyAA_KVvT63x5310u5CrEd50s9gt86SoQIa1woa757JAyWj3PSD5mzUcLS5ntT_C79vLxWOTQjhYx-R1RpuTFJFrMx-GM-4pmmWkuBfTxmiL8IxnSon55VMdI" width="212" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><div>You were a test, a puzzle to see if my intuition</div><div>was real, or if I was again shutting the door</div><div>to my heart before it was ever opened.</div><div><br /></div><div>I looked at your handsome face, watched</div><div>the mirror of your eyes bloom with my own reflection</div><div>and heard my name play across your lips.</div><div><br /></div><div>There was a certain comfort in temptation,</div><div>the thrill of risk, a delicious purr inviting</div><div>danger to cut resistance into shredded ribbon.</div><div><br /></div><div>I stood on the edge waiting to leap, wondering</div><div>if there was space in me for the contagion of regret.</div><div>Then I felt the shift, the prickly certainty of harm.</div><div><br /></div><div>I wasn’t a woman, but a thing, a prey to destroy not cherish.</div><div>My reflection was no longer in your eyes…I watched as every</div><div>female in the room passed through them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Without a word I walked away.</div><div>I questioned discernment when I already knew the answer.</div><div>My inner voice insisted it wouldn’t ever betray me with silence. </div><div><br /></div></div><div>©Susie Clevenger 2023</div><div><br /></div></div><p><br /></p>Susie Clevengerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239990133754328967noreply@blogger.com1