MotherLine

The Emancipation of Eve ~ Digital Collage ~ by Susie Clevenger

You can bury my bones,

but I’ll still breathe.

No matter how many

voices try to talk my mind blind,

I’ve been cradled in women's wisdom

even before I was born.

Eyes wide awake, hand to the pen

paper smells of ink, ocean stinks of men.

There’s no lift in a hand that only

touches bottom, or change when

a wheel moves backwards

in a world moving forward.

My feet don’t like to dance a loop.

My head hates dizzy, my body 

argues in the forced stand still.

You can bury my bones,

but I’ll still breathe.

Keep trying to talk me blind,

I’ll keep forcing you to see. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Shays' Word Garden Word List ~ The Return of Ellie Black

Sunday Sarcasm of Grumbles – Truth in My Fiction

 

The phrase, just a bump in the road,

aggravates me because it doesn’t address

the times the road caves in, and I really

need a flashlight to find where my feet have landed.

I’m not always the director of my drama.

Life too often of late has channeled Martin Scorsese 

to turn my latest travesty sequel into a movie that runs out

of popcorn before the opening credits have stopped scrolling.

I’m jealous of the fourteen-year-old me who filled

a diary with nothing, but whining about being fat,

and how life was soooo unbearable without a boyfriend.

A rainy Sunday and arthritis are perfect guests

for my tea party of grumbles, my why’s, and damn it’s.

Therapists sing the song of how wrong 

it is to keep pent up emotions inside,

speak or journal them.

Welcome to my therapy!

I think I might just be one of the elderly women

Scarlet O’Hara went on about … I’ve tossed the corset

and put more lemon in my lemon biscuits. 

Ok, I must confess I do feel a fit of cackles teasing my pout.

My mood matches my hair, gray, unruly, and denying

I’m the hornet queen of my own nest. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Shay's Word Garden List ~ The Last to Go