Posts

Of Glass and Straw

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  I’m swimming in glass… my crazy on display in wide eye view of those who ladle opinions over my skin to see if I can survive the undertone.   In a sea of stones it is the last straw that pulls me toward freedom.   ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #136

The Aftertaste of Kool-Aid

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  He was a fool, a money chaser with penny eyes and thin skin.   He sold his integrity for a liar’s promise politicians would pour gold into the rust belt.   He ignored every song had a dance, every leap a come to Jesus if bottom was a deflated balloon of hot air.   Hung by his ignorance on a conspirator’s flag, he cried foul when he was caught in his own trap.  ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #134

Wild Ride of Palette and Brush

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  The highway is a paintbrush and wide-open canvas. Talent doesn’t sit in the corner like a wall flower begging a dance…Creative likes the wind in its hair, wheels humming music through a landscape of star stunned palettes thirsting for revelation.   Do you think Dali, Frida, or Van Gogh had any F’cks to give about societal maps trying to plot their destinations?   I’d love to take a convertible ride with the three of them, slap conformity in the ass, and conjure daydreams from smoke rings storming the air.  ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #131

Theia

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  “No my friend, darkness is not everywhere, for here and there  I find faces illuminated from within; paper lanterns among the dark trees.”  ―  Carole Borges In the midnight cavern where voices smother stars she is the lantern muse of poets who hunger to write a path to open sky.  ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #129 Theia ~ Greek Goddess of Sight and Heavenly Light

Raven's Cradle

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Image: Alexas Photos - Pixabay   The dead in me joins October leaves in their decaying crush to crumble toward spring.   With every raking of unnecessary I deny night monsters their insomniac delight in watching me pace hours I can’t reclaim.   Raven wing shadows usher Poe’s ink to coffin daylight’s misery so sleep can write its poems across my weary eyelids. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Friday Flash 55

The Lessons in September

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September gently rustles dry leaves of August’s drought, and I hear it urging me to rest.   Just as it must deal with the cackle of summer’s dusted leavings, I too need to surrender the weight of months to a past I can’t unravel.   The ninth month has always birthed a hunger in me to learn, to search the unknown. This year I will nest in the breath of dreams and let peace teach worry lessons in unburdening.   ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Word Crafters Prompt ~ Favorite Month Poets and Storytellers United Weekly Scribblings #35    

Dust Spew of Dragons

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  I love dragon fields spewing August dust into rain barren clouds.   The anger of summer at the end of its rope is theater I understand.   Inevitable chokes with its curse, and the rib shredding of change doesn’t earn our applause.   Sisters of sun and steamed pudding moon we know Autumn will soon arrive to taunt us with winter. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #121