Starlight in Cataract Crystal Balls

 


Cigarette smoke twists and spins
its incense of burnt hour melodies
across vinyl hearts scratched with history and longing.
 
Yesterday felt like the top of the world
where psychedelic fantasies tricked the mind
into believing flesh would never succumb to brittle.
 
In the now, whatever, oh shit, of mirrors that are bold
with a valley of faces slammed into mortality,
reliving is an art form, starlight in cataract crystal balls.
 
With phoenix wings music drugs a new generation with its rebirth.
White haired sages pull magic from paper sleeves and
cardboard jackets to enchant ears with raw original.
 
Shadow selves reenergized by the bold hunger of new finding old
revisit the light flashes of hot summer life hung from music notes,
and spirit dance through faded photos seeing brilliant colors in the monochrome.
  
©Susie Clevenger 2022


Comments

Carrie Van Horn said…
Oh Susie, from vinyl hearts scratched with history and longing to starlight in cataract crystal balls, this poem touches all our hearts and lives. Unfortunately, none of us are immune to loss and life is full of it. Music does conjure up memories we wish we could bring back. This poem is one of your finest my friend. You have a way of digging into the heart and bringing to light all that needs to be seen by eyes and other souls. I just love this poem Susie!
Helen said…
Awesomeness, Susie ... awesomeness.
JadeLi said…
Susie those first two lines really pulled me in. Perfect writing to that photo in your poem.
Jim said…
I like this, Susie, it brings memories in the reading. I like the swirling tobaco smoke, it draws wonders also with smoke rings which I often did. Others at times also for those at a distance still in the room.
Paper sleeves and cardboard parts bring way back to paper dolls and cutout helps. More still though the relationships building from the play.
Relationships remembered need some hints and stimulation along the memory routes. It is nice to exchange those with acquaintances but some we wish kept to ourselves. Not secrets from spouses, I think most have them, but remembrances not shared.
..
Gillena Cox said…
Nice one Susie. Time and history stringing
the music along.
Happy you dropped by to read mine.

Much💖love
Marion Horton said…
Goodness me, this is just wonderful Susie.
(I smiled at 'white-haired sages- - one can relate 😊.)
Oh that vile mirror! I just love this one, Susie, especially "cataract crystal ball".
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Wonderful, Susie. Especially loved the lines Carrie quoted. Your pen is powerful with all you have learned and lived. Love we white haired sages!
Mary said…
Wow, Susie. I know why you chose this poem to share in Open Link at our site. It is brilliant. My favorite lines, if I had to choose, are:

Yesterday felt like the top of the world
where psychedelic fantasies tricked the mind
into believing flesh would never succumb to brittle.

I can picture this time, a time of believing everything would be good forever; but it never is. I am so glad you shared this poem with us!
Fireblossom said…
I love this--both what it says, and your word choices. Music is tremendously important to me, and although I still love a lot of the music I discovered while young, I also love to discover new stuff. I think I may give YouTube Music's algorithm a stroke.
alan1704 said…
"cardboard jackets to enchant ears" - yes i still have my 1970 records - especially early Elton John - this is so powerful and really works. Well done.
Dora said…
Stunning poetry, as always, Susie. I re-read that first stanza again and again, so beautifully conceived and crafted. But this line, "reliving is an art form, starlight in cataract crystal balls" -- pure starlight, glows like a jewel, a jewel in your poetic crown. Pure genius.
Susan said…
". . . believing flesh would never succumb to brittle."
Pow! Such innocence! And we have brittle and mortality and monochrome--but some of the music lives and more is born. What a brilliant poem!
Rajani said…
Yesterday felt like the top of the world
where psychedelic fantasies tricked the mind
into believing flesh would never succumb to brittle. - wow... I think we can all go back to a time when we believed this...and the music of our time.
Sumana Roy said…
I love how wisps of past rise within with all its music. "reliving is an art form,...." So true.