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

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Two Syllables of Affliction

Last words escaped my lips
without thought of endings.

They hung upon bitter clothes pins,
blowing against us, dividing us.

Pain had me speaking without edit.
I wished to wound you thinking it would heal me.

I thought my goodbye was merely temporary
and I ran from you, the sulfur of my tongue.

Goodbye, two syllables of affliction,
has haunted me with its finality.

 I didn’t know that day
would be a grave where I buried love.

It had died before those words
escaped my lips.

My spirit knew, but my heart
was never one to listen beyond a dream.

Last words, brittle grief
crushed into my memory.

©Susie Clevenger 2012
 Written from the digital art prompt titled "Last Words"
provided by Vanessa Matthews at Ordinary Life...Less Ordinary

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Saturday, July 28, 2012

A Prayer For The Hunt

The footprints of Arnakuagsak
mark her passage on the snow mountain.

We raise our eyes in prayer
to ask for her the vision to see
us through another winter.

Feather ice may your frost wings
glisten under the new moon
to guide us to our hunting ground.

Arnakuagsak may you point
our spears to hit their mark
so our children will not cry from hunger.

Bless the animals that will
sacrifice their lives to feed us,
and may their souls return
to the place of their home.

©Susie Clevenger 2012
Arnakuagsak is the Inuit goddess of the hunt.
The Inuit hunt only for what they need.
They believe animals have souls
and when they die they will live on in the spirit world.
Written for Real Toads Transforming Fridays
 Hannah challenged us to think "ice." With it being so hot
here I was more than happy to take my mind to a cold climate.
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Friday, July 27, 2012

Lunar Dreams in Ink

It is the moon
that stirs me to dream.

It fills the night
with an exclamation
that faith has slain impossible.

That brilliant orb is my encourager.
If it can steal the stage from myriad stars
that own so many nights, I can walk
out from under the cloud of “I can’t.”

Words are my dream,
to see  them reach beyond
that blinking cursor
that translates them
from my scribbled notes.

I have fear, joy, sorrow, hope
that is not unique but universal
to each one who calls earth home.

If I have the gift to communicate
from life’s well I have drank from,
then I can place the cup of my words
on the lips of those whose voices are parched.

I am a dreamer of words great and small
and with my beloved moon to inspire
I shall take them from my solitary world
into a book that hands can hold,
thumb through its pages and
read my heart written in bold print.

©Susie Clevenger 2012
Written for New World Creative Union's
Wednesday Wake-Up Call 7/25/2012 "Dreams"

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Thursday, July 26, 2012

Drink Vintage Moments

Drink the vintage moments,
let their bubbles tingle.

We survived our immaturity
with a few scars of lessons learned.

Life, now well aged
tastes better than the brine of youth.

Life in the cellar brought out our worth.
We can now look through rose glasses of truth.

©Susie Clevenger 2012
Painting: Wassily Kandinsky

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Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Chasing Thoughts

My days are spent
chasing thoughts
with pen and paper
to capture them
before they are lost
in the shape shifting
world of my brain.

©Susie Clevenger 2012

she challenged us to tell about 
our own little world we live in.
But the catch was it must be
in thirty five words or less.

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Sunday, July 22, 2012

How Do I Thank Angels

This is not enough to say to all who have prayed for me and wished me well, but it is all I have. This song kept playing through my mind as I lie in my bed of pain. If you are not familiar with it, please listen and even if you are please listen again. This speaks of all you have done for me. I am still healing, and a lot of pain is in my hands which are the instruments to share my poetry so please pray for their complete healing.

How Do I Thank Angels

How do you thank angels?
Words are so inadequate
in a universe that knocked
on heaven’s doors
beseeching God on my behalf.

Sweet spirits spoke my name
in well wishes and petitions for healing.
Their lips of kindness piercing
the shroud of my pain.

People who only know me
from my written words
linked arms with family and friends
to stand in the gap preventing me
from succumbing to the darkness that engulfed me.

Their angel wings lifted my husband
to give him the strength to care for me
when I lie helpless as a newborn.
They wrapped around him when
he held me in my despair.

I don’t know how to thank angels.
My prayer is they know my heart is humbled
and full of gratitude for all they have done.
Two words must suffice for all my spirit contains.
Thank you.

©Susie Clevenger 2012

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Thursday, July 5, 2012

Wind Prayer

Come speak healing.
Paint its path in the sand.
Pain has me between its teeth
tearing through flesh and bone.

Sing your ancient songs
across my spirit to raise
me from the dust I cry in.

I am small in the mountain sky.
My voice barely reaches
the air beyond my lips.

Wind, carry my prayer
to ears who need to hear.
May this blanket I lie on
soon become my healing bed.

©Susie Clevenger 2012
Written for New World Creative Union Wednesday Wake-Up Call 4.07.12

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Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Blogger Goddess with Facebook Wings

Closing my eyes---
Scratching my head---
Scribbling down lines---

Rewrite? No thank you.

Rhyme? Never!
It is my nemesis---
a bully scuffle
that bares my inadequacy.

Pulling the heart from my sleeve---
So many tears drip from my fingers---
crowned the queen of sad.

A blogger goddess with Facebook wings---
Sort the laundry and fly---
gulp—taking a deep breath to hit post.

©Susie Clevenger 2012
Image:Roberto Kusterle
On Real Toads Out of Standard with Izy she asks us to write a parody of our writing style. 

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Monday, July 2, 2012

Alphabet Wings

I seek freedom
in words ---
They are alphabet wings
that allow me to soar
above the confines
of silence.

They are my
pen and paper voice
to reach the world
beyond my window.

When my lips
are censored
I break edit’s hold
with my muse’s pen.

I can cry on paper
when I won’t
shed a tear,
speak of love
with a vocabulary
no one knows I possess.

I can write of injustice
that is heard by a reader’s ear.
I can rail in anger, sing in sonnets,
play at rhyme.

I am a writer, a poet, a dreamer
who flies with the wings of letters
through a garden watered with ink.

©Susie Clevenger 2012

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Sunday, July 1, 2012

Buried in Tin

Treasure was buried
as deep as tin.
Small fingers searched
through wood, plastic, and metal,
separating fantasies by color.

Christmas smiled in yellow
three hundred sixty five days a year
upon mama’s sewing machine
from a fruit cake tin turned button home.

Mixed among brand new
were fasteners that
once graced a dress or shirt,
their history winking
at exploring blue eyes.

They were just buttons,
but they were three sister’s gold.
Imagination found diamonds in glass
and adornments for Cinderella’s dress.

Sibling spats were silenced
by the spell cast with yellow.
There was no time for harsh words, only joy.

That Christmas button box
was our once upon a time,
and the fairytales still speak
each time we hold yesterday in our hands.


©Susie Clevenger 2012
I am really fortunate that my youngest sister, Debby, has our mother's button box. It truly is magic for me. Some of my best childhood memories are those buttons held in Christmas yellow.
I wrote this from the inspiration of Brain Miller's Poetics ~ Button, Button

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