Once There Was a Moon

If I speak in the language of poets and dreamers, 

but profit from the moon, I am only empty words or a devilish liar.

Midnight crawls across the stars

hungry for the moon, but can’t

find Luna’s scent.

Clock hands claw the wailing trees

handcuffed to blind night

trying to free the last dream.

The walking dead build another mansion

with profits earned from mining reflection.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

Real Toads Weekend Mini Challenge

If Words Were Real Estate

Speak synergy to me

Words that bow tie me

to sunshine and don’t put

midnight on my tongue.

Knock judgment down

to a paint color other than bleak.

Spare me the claw…I’ll resist the thorn.

It takes one to change the conversation,

two to agree.

Tit for tat we’re better than that.

If words were real estate, how much would

you pay for a house full of windows

where bricks blocked every view?

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform

Gone

I searched your hollow eyes

for my face, elbowed my way

through memories to see

if even a sliver of mirror

held my reflection.

All I found were wisps of blond hair

and a little girl clinging to the edge

of the drowning pool crying

she’d never learned to swim.

Gone, pulled under by the rapids

of erasing I watched myself disappear.

Mama blinked and spoke, “I can’t find my baby.”

©Susie Clevenger 2019

Alzheimer's Foundation of America

Real Toads ~ Just One Word ~ Sensation

Carrion of Dead Poets

The Turning Point

David Bülow

Used with Permission

 

Pens litter the floor like carrion of dead poets

who still feed passion to hungry minds.

I wasted ink trying to build a fire.

Words teased with sparks, but they cooled into

drinking sarcasm with Bukowski’s ghost

and making paper planes out of crumpled words

I mined from a thesaurus.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

To see more of David Bulow's work visit @bulow_ink on Instagram or view more art from this talented artist on his website Bulow Ink.

Real Toads ~ Art Flash!/55