Catty Honesty




I am not your pretty thing
to dress in lace and ignorance.

The mirror in my eyes
reflects what it sees.

If you don’t like the judgement,
don’t provide the reason.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

The Sunday Muse #60

Comments

  1. HelenJune 17, 2019 at 1:32 PM

    Lesson learned, Madam.

    ReplyDelete
  2. FireblossomJune 17, 2019 at 1:53 PM

    Spoken like a true cat! Pow pow pow.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Carrie Van HornJune 17, 2019 at 2:45 PM

    I am certain if a cat could talk in words, that is exactly what it would say! Although cats speak to us in many ways, and do not speak to us in many ways. LOL.....love your catty honesty Susie!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Sherry Blue SkyJune 17, 2019 at 7:26 PM

    I love "the mirror in my eyes reflects what it sees."

    ReplyDelete
  5. VickiJune 18, 2019 at 7:40 AM

    Powerful lines here, Susie. Love it.

    ReplyDelete
  6. purplepeninportland.comJune 19, 2019 at 1:29 PM

    Ha! Love this Susie!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Owl of Capricorn's Moon

Image
She sits on my shoulder,  a feathered sage whispering to my dreams about a tomorrow I can’t see and doors yet to be open. With the gentle touch of my hair resting against her owl feathers I feel the caress of angels who  watch from Capricorn’s moon, and loneliness feels less empty. Outside my window trees write their wind stories across the glass. Without a sound the owl stirs  the silence with its wings. Within me the knowing forms, it is time for her to leave to write her own page in the journal of midnight. ©Susie Clevenger 2024  
Read more

Tantrum

Image
Ms. Rainbow enters the stage in her gown of charmeuse silk quoting Wordsworth and silences the sun’s soliloquy on his relationship with clouds. Her theatrics are more jealous tantrum than artful expression or love of poetry. For all her brilliant colors she only draws a moment’s adulation before her attraction begins to fade. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 #NaPoWriMo2019 Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform
Read more

I Listened to the Photographs

Image
My wings are feathers of ink and pages, spines of titles, wonders that form from every sentence and exclamation.  In late autumn’s  storm of leaves I will be your umbrella so you won’t feel their tears. A thousand clipped blossoms spilled across the sand from an open car door. I suppose someone thought it was romantic, a gesture to awe a heart. In the dust mirror of summer all I could see was a garden grieving it could no longer hear the honeybees. Winter watches from the horizon. It’s barren antlers of oak limbs writing gothic poems across brittle grass that can longer feel the color of green.  He tossed his hat into the wind trusting fate had a warm heart. Silly man never considered fire takes a spark, not a sliver of ice.  If I lit a candle for each of my mistakes, I’d have every bridge burned before I could cross it.  open me to ink there are a thousand stories buried on my tongue ©Susie Clevenger 2024 Word Crafters Prompt  
Read more