The Sound of Ink

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    

  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

We’re praying between bullets, fed pepper to season our screams, and dodging puppets who dance on an orange string.   Change came like a lion, stalked our lungs, then locked us down in a twitter nest of failure.   What will we look like when hell is over? When tomorrow doesn’t arrive with a black coffin sun?    ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Friday Flash 55

Ribbon highways tempt with destinations,  bright electric exits without melancholy brooding in the rear-view mirror.   I normally don’t look back, mind rake my yesterdays to garden good times, but stuck in non-direction even images of my overweight self are sunlight on a monochrome Sunday.   Sitting at my table of wishes I watch a cardinal through my window, drink another cup of tea, and ponder if a journey begins with a single step, how do I reach Shambala by pacing quicksand? ©Susie Clevenger 2020 I was honored to have my photo as inspiration to spark poetry at The Sunday Muse. The Sunday Muse #116 Poets and Storytellers United ~ Writer's Pantry #28

The walls around me feel tighter against my spirit like blue jeans that no longer fit because I fed my feelings.   Anxiety flushes my skin forcing me to attempt to shake it off with pacing.   My erratic walk takes me to my library where brightly colored art greets me from every wall in the room.   I slowly turn letting my eyes feast on brush strokes, dancing images, fantasy figures sailing a paper moon sky.   My mood shifts with electric shocks of inspiration as I absorb the energy of hope, talent, vision, each artist poured into their paintbrushes.   The binding rope of dark emotions I carried into the room slips away, and I feel the creative strength of others lift me, encourage me today is the only door I need to open. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Poets and Storytellers United ~ Writer's Pantry #26

When all else fails…  I        try on jeans to see       if my pandemic belly       argues with my zipper. I   watch animal videos until my face has giggle paralysis. I          google “witch couture”       for casual spells. I  put another flowerpot on the front porch to see if the HOA notices. I        paste sticky notes on my coffee cup        to remind me there’s life after caffeine. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Poets and Storytellers United Weekly Scribblings #24

You torch our ears with promises, gaslight flames to burn us in a corner to camp beneath light we can never own.   Streets are littered with dreams no one can fix and hearts that can’t unbreak, while pulpits and podiums prey on us with pyramid schemes.   What about us … the slivers of rage living on the edge of shadows, torn hearts without needle or desire to stich a country into a flag.   We are different colors…different lovers…different souls… broken bones walking the knife blade of those who are more tender with their prejudices than the humans who suffer at their feet. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Poets and Storytellers United ~ Weekly Scribblings #23