Sunday, August 18, 2019

Sin Washing



Water can be ugly when you sorrow.
Water can be cruel when you lie.
Water can save you, if you’re
honest with your cry.

Confessed my guilt to the river,
poured tears in muddy waves.

Mixed heartbreak with the flood,
begged mercy for bringing blood.
Sullen river took me under
only to pull me back up.

Water sat on my tongue…Water pooled in my eyes.
Water went deep in my spirit to tell me
it was my time to thrive.

I didn’t need a Bible…I didn’t need a priest.
Took my sins to the river and muddy water brought release.

©Susie Clevenger 2019









Friday, August 16, 2019

American Predators

Time Lapse Photography of Road

The dark half of the narrows,
the space where fair game
is the sick definition of
the secrets men keep,
predators play dead.

In a black wind strike the brethren
of skin trade resurrect from shadows
to chain innocence to horror.

Along the edge of America true evil
shape-shifts through penthouse to city street
growing wealth from a graveyard of fallen angels.


©Susie Clevenger 2019



These are the book titles I chose from Margaret's list to create my poem:

True Evil 
The Dark Half
Fair Game
Play Dead
Skin Trade
The Secrets Men Keep
Black Wind
The Narrows
Fallen Angels
Along the Edge of America

Monday, August 12, 2019

Straddling the Divide



Anger/Fear…
I sit astride
an emotional fence
trying to stay me
in a war of words
no one can win.

In red white and blue America
bruising is the new normal.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

Real Toads ~ Just One Word: Halved

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

The Storm in My Muse ~ Four American Sentences


Thunder vibrates my window, I sort through poetry books
to respond.

The gravel in my throat tastes like fear regurgitated from the moon.

It’s hard to write about rainbows when all your ink is black fading to gray.

Hail stones harass oak leaves until they surrender to the stone toss.



©Susie Clevenger 2019

Wednesday Muse: American Sentence

Sunday, July 14, 2019

The Incarceration of Glitter

Photographer: Cole Keister


He likes her wrapped
around his arm…
a glitter trinket to insure
he’s got the flash  to attract
a murder of paparazzi.

She smiles through
the snap storm praying
someone will hear the
scream in her eyes.

A cage is a cage...
Whether gold or steel,
it jails broken wings.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

Saturday, July 6, 2019

Born From Feathers

Chernobog and Belobog
Used With Permission

There was nothing before wings
but empty sky and solemn earth.

Unity grew from light and dark
until life feathered its way into being.

All was well until humans sprang
from dust to claim color.

In the senseless swagger tongue
of dominion the gift of Gods
became the battlefield of religions.

©Susie Clevenger 2019


The art is the work of Russian artist, Anarh1a. You can explore more of her art work on Instagram: @anarh1a

Monday, June 24, 2019

Sass Comes in Waves

Photo Artistry by Erik Johansson Master Photo-manipulation Artist


I’ll carry my bucket of tears
to the beach so I can bury his name
in the hottest part of August.

There’s always a blues song
splashing against the sky
where water dances in sighs.

Not everything’s ugly in the moan,
sass comes in waves to drop
a little hell in the spray so
the dead of night won’t be lonely.

Misery loves harmony, but
she won't like it when
I won’t let her sing the chorus.

©Susie Clevenger 2019