Tuesday, February 4, 2020

Baiting Moonlight

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There’s more devil in a brooding silver crescent moon
than an unseen underworld that plays its demon drum
to panic my insomnia.

Moonlight writes its play in shadows and I chase whispers
hoping it is a lover’s spell breaking the lock of my melancholy.  

Not every soul can feel poetry nor lips speak its language,
yet I bait night with verses trying to fill empty with words.

I am ink and a murder of crows trying to peck sunlight
into nightmares the moon walks across my eyelids.

Where is love, the heart shaped wishes planted in Luna’s wink?


Written from Skylover's word list:
underworld, colonnade, seethe, crescent, faint,
sunshine, east, brooding foolish, silver

Friday, January 31, 2020

Invidious


The Harpy of the Moon
walks her curse into the sea
knowing death has no memories.

Jealous of lover’s cradled
in night’s palm, she hunts
the scented blush of ecstasy
for flames to drown in brine.

Wooed by the buoyancy
to rise and never fall
passion walks on water…
oblivious to the Harpy’s
malicious riptide.

©Susie Clevenger 2020


Wednesday, January 15, 2020

Izred's Necklace


Izred wears every prayer cremated in a liar’s lung around her neck in the stunning pretense gold can buy the ear of a goddess. A daughter born on the dark side of the moon, first born of the goddess Erebeth, she fed from the breast of shadows until she was old enough to eat the black tar of dying stars. Feral child of neglect she learned the value of hiding opinions behind teeth and eye until revelation held the fiercest sting.



Selfish weighs more
than coins hoarded
in a wallet.

Praying with an empty mind
won’t grow wisdom
in the heart of ego.

If you pay a goddess for attention,
her boredom may
establish your worth.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019


Sunday, January 12, 2020

Restraint


You stalk the wild in me,
hidden claws beneath my tongue
where words lie sharpened
to protect solitude when intrusive
camps at every door.

I catch glimpses of you in the mirror
when I search flaws to see which
brush can paint me out of questions.

Fire and moon
camp at the door of patience
waiting to see how many pins
my skin can hold
before I break.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019



Saturday, January 4, 2020

Say It Again Without Meaning


In the moonless cage of gravity
the rusted wings of the canary
circle platitude’s corpse singing,
“Solitude doesn’t require a handmaid.”

Alone and lonely aren’t identical twins
nurtured at the breast of your perceptions.

Apparitions of every dishonest emotion
root on your tongue growing poison
from the rotted useless you feed them.

©Susie Clevenger 2020

Inspired by a Skylover wordlist




Monday, December 16, 2019

Monday


Monday sun poured into my bedroom,
work drunk and lonely eyed.
It pushed me toward a cup of coffee
to wash the poems from my tongue.

There’s nothing new in repetition,
grand in same old thing, crows have murder,
humans a nest of spines.
One step forward leaves you ten steps behind.

I walk three blocks to meet the devil at the bus stop
spinning lies through fingerprinted screens.
I feel alone in shoulder to shoulder, body heat
that leaves me cold.

Another week to empty my wallet into the hand
of more is mine.

Silence has no honor. Anger has its price.
I feel a question touch my shoulder.
Are you going to stand or keep your seat?

©Susie Clevenger 2019


Friday, December 13, 2019

The Raven You No Longer Silence


Does it burn, my dear? Does it trouble you
I have become the ink breeding scars
in the starless hours you can’t escape?

You were the cat who owned my tongue,
forced me to live by fist and bruise,
prowl night for one sip of light.

It isn’t pretty when chains break into truth,
when daylight burns away the shroud of threat.

Today is the future you thought would never come.
I have found wings; feel the wind of blue sky.

The irony is the cage you thought would always hold me
is now yours to pace and defend with teeth that no longer have claws.  

©Susie Clevenger 2019

The first line of my poem " Does it burn my dear? Does it trouble you" is from Kerry O'Conner's poem Firefly  I had several conversations about abuse this week, and when I read that line all those conversations began to mold into a poem.