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."

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

My Chair of Tears

Sunflowers weep brittle petals
from their frosted death mask,
and I beg spring to come and
take the funeral from my garden.
Winter has written so many
entries in its journal of bone chill
I breathe its story each morning.

Pain walks through my thighs
on the command of a barometer,
a stab here, a burn there…
a Pinocchio dance on legs
too stiff to react as human.

In my chair of tears I wonder
if this petrification will bring me
closer to humility or will I merely
live my own wasting one splinter at a time.

If not for love, I would make my own
journey to spring, but to pill myself
into eternity would break the heart
of a man who would bear my pain
if the universe would allow him.

Hope is truly fragile, a paper thin glass
one demon away from shattering.
I must have faith I’m a day closer
to a robin song, and not a hymn sung
where I am coffined in silence.

  ©Susie Clevenger 2018

This was written from my experiences in 2002 with Fibromyalgia while living in Broken Arrow, Ok. This winter because of the colder weather in Texas where I now reside I have been on a roller coaster of flares, but I am in a much better place both physically and emotionally. Writing and my fledgling artistic attempts with beading have been my salvation. Yes, the garden outside my window suffered the devastation of a hard frost, but my spirit has never surrendered its green leaves.

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Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Poem Stars

She lives in a nest of dreams
where feather and flight
are home and stones
carry no weight.

While others sleep she sits
among poem stars peeking
through an ink stained sky.

Resting so close to far away
the night song of indigo
sings Keats into her ear.

Cupped in moon shadow
she blooms in the sting of thorns
without the sorrow of collecting scars.

©Susie Clevenger 2018

Thanks to Margaret Bednar's poem I found this art piece by Catrin Welz-Stein as one of four images used to inspire poetry at dVerse Poets Pub. Catrin's art is so beautiful. I suggest you take the time to visit her page to view her incredible work.

dVerse Poets Pub ~ Inspired by Art
Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform
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Thursday, February 8, 2018

The Mirror Drops

The staircase curls in Goldilocks gold
and Alice bottle madness.
Nightmare's dream frost the moon
in sing song tongues of this is, that isn’t
urging feet to find the bottom of what goes up.

The mirror drops where toes tread fear
and the footprints of who should silver splash
with reflections of who shouldn’t.

Go where with care because once you’re there,
too much may be too little and too little too much.

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Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Heart Without Rain

I’ll umbrella the stars,
drink from the moon,
and dance until the sun
robs the night of romance.

Love is a balancing act
better suited to walk
shoeless and blind.

Clarity will come when
vases no longer bleed daises.

©Susie Clevenger 2018

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Sunday, February 4, 2018

Where No Arrows

       Circus, Budapest, 19 May 1920 Andre Kersetz

Strange attracts ….
A tease of the bizarre draws out
darkness in a sin tingle of shouldn’t,
but a wink will save an hour’s confession.

Shoes boot laced to the straight and narrow
yearn for a toe touch in grass where no arrows.

Shroud dancing in sunlight is welcoming death
before a rose even knows there's a coffin.

©Susie Clevenger 2018

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Thursday, February 1, 2018

Not Quite an Obituary

She liked her mail sorted,
gas tank brim topped,
and no questions asked
when you couldn’t spell
your own name.

Weather didn’t mean shit
when duty called… She was
summer toast and winter chilled.

She’d seen it all…Heard it all..
Felt the teeth…Fielded the complaints.
Fickle box expectations grew
in wings or horns…She was queen
of cut to the chase.

I miss the personal in impersonal,
a weak smile illuminating time constraint.
Change killed our mailbox meetings
and sent her down the street to
a metal condo to stuff tiny spaces
in a step clear and wait kind of way.

©Susie Clevenger 2018

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Tuesday, January 30, 2018


I am gray,
light and dark,
mix the tea,
and I accept
sunshine at times
will dissolve
into a thunderstorm.

Blooming comes
from a spirit grown
in the troubled soil
of a moonless night. 

Piece by piece
broken was glued
with love until
I was whole.

©Susie Clevenger 2018

For a Friend

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." ~ Lao Tzu 

Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform
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