The Sound of Ink

  “The past is a place of reference, not a place of residence; the past is a place of learning, not a place of living.”  ― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart Yesterday loves to stalk me, haunt with mistakes, and braid my hair with fear self-revelation is a soap opera I’ll rewrite each day in my new season of blame.   I’m done wearing 2020 glasses. Lessons learned are humming through my DNA, surging through my ink and tying my shoelaces. I won’t dance through spilled wine waiting to fall.   I’m grabbing an umbrella, throwing glitter in the air and balancing on the sparkle. Why not? Every pool of optimism needs a hypomanic lifeguard when Eeyore comes to swim.   ©Susie Clevenger 2021 The Sunday Muse #143

  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

Oh, a storm is threat'ning my very life today... If I don't get some shelter Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away - Rolling Stones I crawl into ink where pain has no blood stains and agony is anesthetized with poetry. Torment penned on confession’s diary shelters me from the needle points of terrifying silence. Folded into butterflies I send my voice on wings praying the world outside my prison will rescue me. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 For all those who must shelter in place with abusers...May you be heard...May you be rescued. Inspired by Carrie Thackeray Van Horn's Shelter prompt at Word Crafters