Confessions 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."

Sunday, June 23, 2019

Bold in Her Longest Day

Summer arrives with her hair down
ready to dance the last thoughts
of spring to the edge of the sky.

Bold in her longest day she struts
in bright orange, sun swell yellow,
and electric blue to summon
worshipers to her throne of light.

In the whisper between dreamer and epiphany
she pours dandelion tea on lips to urge
words to follow their wild path of freedom.

When the sundial turns toward shadows
Summer sings her fire into moon as twilight
empties sunset’s wine glass, and gifts
the final hours to lovers feeding wishes to hungry stars.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

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Thursday, June 20, 2019

So Sunlight Could Have an Altar

I am years from a child,
and months closer to winter.
In my place of roots I am still
a little girl running my hands across
wooden planks of an old garage,
playing hide and seek in its shadows,
and writing my name in dusty glass.

From the well of echoes near the rafters
the building replays my voice so it
can’t feel decay breaking it into absence.

On my dark nights of dismantling
my thoughts return to the broken structure
to reclaim my child’s bouquet of dandelions
I placed on a shelf so sunlight could have an altar.
In a perfect union of odd we listen
to the music only we can hear, journal
years and miles on starlight vellum,
and seek solace in connection.        

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

The top photo is one my sister took a few weeks a go of my father's garage. The bottom one is what it looked like the last time I saw it when my father was still alive. It breaks my heart to see it so neglected.

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Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Hold Your Space

The world spins on everyone else’s dime if you let it.
Hold your space in deep breaths and the soul light of the moon.

To worry your wings with another’s journey
will leave you flying at the speed of their expectations.

Take time to see where you’re going before
you are blind to anything other than a clock.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform ~ Slow Down and Feel Groovy

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Thursday, June 6, 2019


I listen to photos,
commune with wings,
and hear trees sing
from the woods
beyond my door.

Determined to move
past negative words
spoken to break my will
I ink a path through
their chaos and rise
on the strength of
my own worth.

The burden of opinions
are not mine to nurse
or allow to mold me
into their caricature.

Nature is my resurrection,
my holy space where healing
doesn’t ask me to recite failure.
It accepts me exactly as I am.

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Tuesday, May 7, 2019

Little Shop of Memories

Sitting on shelves
like price tagged artifacts,
antique kitchen items
remind me of cinnamon,
and my mother apron deep
in showing how much
she loved me.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

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Sunday, April 28, 2019

I Heard it From the Photograph

Time has a way of erasing me:
my favorite walks are at sunset.

He asked me to marry him:
your lipstick still stains my lips.

I’m not wearing an apron
beneath my cape:
the kitchen isn't 
dying for freedom.

It’s a bit cloudy in the parlor:
the sun is caught in the clothesline.

It’s a night for swimming in the stars:
my toes can’t reach the moon.

Daylight dies on the horizon:
he lights a match with ebony and ivory.

©Susie Clevenger 2019


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Thursday, April 25, 2019

A Moment's Heat

The Sea and it's Raining. I Missed You So Much
Artist: Wura-Natasha Ogunji
33rd Bienal de São Paulo
Photograph: Kenia Santos

She was a summer
rain of satin across
the desert of his denial.

Lust lied… A moment’s
heat can burn solitude
into the despair of being alone.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

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