He Expected Me to Run

Idris called it textbook random,

little questions framed in generalities,

getting to know someone without

truly getting to know someone.

His pop quiz surveys

weren’t innocent or casual.

He liked cruel for dessert and

feeding piranhas for fun.

Tell the ignorant a lie three times

and they’ll take it as truth.

I became the topic, the target,

of Idris’s petty collection

of insufferable friends.

 

Tired of the shoebox of bs

he thought I couldn’t escape

I clawed him with truth, 

“A peacock will lose its feathers when

Circe comes to claim its tongue.”

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Circe has often been identified as the first witch in Greek mythology.

"The Sorceress," 1913, by John William

Word Garden Word List ~ Thirteen Reasons

 

Everybody's An Object of Something

Harlyn is tattooed with bitter bandages,

vivid scarred blood signatures of bullies

she’s had the ovaries to survive. 

Not many welcome different because it doesn’t fit

the definition of candy-coated pseudo normal. 

In this modern soap ring circus authentic is surreal.

Harlyn doesn’t care if she fits in nor does

she want to be an eyeliner zombie doing Tik Toks 

so her face will trend while her spirit calcifies.  

Everybody’s an object of something.

Usually, it’s attention…Why hide when

someone's always carrying arrows. 

When she gives it much thought, she knows

she’s always under the gaslight.

Funny how the unread believe they own the bookstore.

Copy and paste aren’t shoes she’ll ever wear.

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden List ~ Save Yourself

 

Wishing for Persephone

In this sludge of wildflowers

I grieve for their petals 

trampled by feet oblivious

to their pain.

Like astronauts from another planet

humans chased the perfect landing

to place a photograph as a flag,

conquerors who never considered

the legacy of their shoes.

I’m sure the valerian craved

their pink and white blossoms

could have sedated the callous plastic sheep

before they ever reached anything green.

Oh, I too love photos, bright images

capturing a countryside rainbowed with spring,

but I look where my feet are going as to not

assault euphoric rebirth with the crush of my boots. 

If I were Persephone, I would pluck

the spotted spurge of armchair busybodies, 

and turn them into fodder for Aphthona. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

 word-garden-word-list-spill-simmer

So Many Plumes in My Portfolio

 Oh, I do love to dress in pink and black,

a tabby witch who has crows and flamingos as familiars.

There’s so many plumes in my portfolio no disconnected

shaman can figure out which part of me holds the reason

I need his sage to drive out my impertinence.

When you’re born female, you’re stalked with you must,

you can’t, you should, you shouldn’t…My skin is much

thicker than the apple peel placed between my teeth.

Silly man, you made me who I am…If you don’t like the view,

you shouldn’t have opened the window. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden Word List ~ Poetry Outloud

Insanity Is a Parking Lot

I roam like a withered cloud,

the white foam of cotton

against blue long gone.

Why isn’t there comfort in madness?

My mind builds a memorial for every demon

that has left its footprint on my chest.

There is no ink in dead flowers, yet I chase

their petals trying to find enough color

to fill a single thought. 

Is sanity a stroke of luck or a creature

some can tame while others are cursed 

with feral.

I wish unfinished would leave bread crumbs

so my brain could be tricked into believing

life had a map.

Insanity is a parking lot where I watch

everyone escape, but me.

Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden Word List ~ William Wordsworth

Open Wound

 

The sun rises 

with its murder of crows, 

and I fight the spoon 

that feeds me another

hour of prayers unanswered. 

Is there a god who doesn’t 

bind me to a hymn that

sings only heaven will

bring freedom? 

The gravel beneath my feet

never grows softer. 

My spirit is too raw to 

even form a scar. 

I’ve bled my heart into

journal pages, carried matches

to light candles that never stay lit. 

I’m so weary I’ve grown deaf

to my bones begging me to rest. 

I fear I’m becoming as silent

as those I thought would speak. 

Susie Clevenger 2023

 

 

I've Never Lost My Shoes

Is this tomorrow

or am I still on

today’s treadmill?

I’m beginning to wonder

where I fit in other than

on trauma’s fist.

In my everything’s coming up roses

I am making bouquets out of dry petals.

Questions flower on my tongue

only to be met by the drought of no answers.

Lately I’ve been screaming in empty rooms

where my voice disappears into nail holes

I’ve hammered in my gallery of goodbyes.

There is weakness in strength, fear in being brave.

I’m tired of having to cross another valley,

but grateful I’ve never lost my shoes. 

©Susie Clevenger 2023

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