Ink of Wings

 I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. ~ Edgar Allan Poe

“I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word.

 Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.”

― Emily Dickinson

I place a word on the tip of my pen

to test the wind that will give it wings.

 

Do I dare let it be a crow, inky bitter,

dark prophecy wrestled from my tongue

where silence debates with consequence?

 

Or should it be hope’s feather plucked

from sunlight’s robin singing from

the timid limbs of spring?

 

Light flirts with sapphire strokes of ink

as I shuffle through the alphabet wondering

which words I’ll draw from poet’s tarot.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

Word Crafters Prompt

Bitter Apple

 

The apple doesn’t fall far from the teeth

or sweeten the mirror when the tongue

draws blood. 

©Susie Clevenger 2021

The Sunday Muse #142

Smoke Ring on the Wind

 

I’m no hand me down Eve,

dressing my tongue in submission.

 

I can’t be me in another woman’s misery,

but I can sing harmony when another devil haunts my ribs.

 

If there’s a different drum, I’ve already played it,

a different shoe, I’ve already worn it.

 

Time is a smoke ring riding wind

until the clock chimes midnight.

 

I’m made of bone, grit, and song,

an open-eyed poem swimming every river.

 

©Susie Clevenger 2020

The Sunday Muse #139

Sometimes only poetry can say it. I think there's just this deeper language, and away of putting your world back together again and breaking through barriers.  ~  Laura Nyro

When I write my music I see all the rivers flowing... sensual, spiritual, religious, animal, intellectual. ~ Laura Nyro

Twisted Orange of Numbers Don't Count

 

There’s bats in the belfry and whiskers on the moon

in the imbalance balanced way out fourth year.

 

Ruby throated hoarse sings the same tune –

facts don’t matter if what is said is not what you hear.

 

March in streets, protest the stench of gas fumes -  

today’s the tomorrow yesterday warned we should fear.

 

©Susie Clevenger 2020

Flash Friday 55 ~ Thanksgiving Edition 2020

The We of Ink and Tablet

 

Blood of poet, vein of dread,

night grows darker with whispers fed

lie of tongues - the muse is dead.

 

Night grows bolder with wine of ink

that pricks the mind with a sorcerer’s wink

to expand the spirit so thoughts don’t shrink.

 

One word grows three,

a root a tree,

Calliope’s tablet answer’s plea.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2020

Painting by Charles Meynier 

Calliope: Greek Goddess - Muse of eloquence and  epic poetry.

My poem isn't eloquent or epic, but I am grateful Calliope showed up

so I could find 55 words and wrote in rhyme. (Something I am not good at)

Flash Friday 55 - Halloween Edition 2020

Broken Down Ride of the One Horse Emporium

 

Every giggle and scream 

was catalogued on stirrups

by tiny feet once racing 

a circle of dreams.

The brand new under

the nothing new sun

claimed its glory until time

pulled the plug and progress

built a bypass.

Those brave enough

to explore shredded whimsy

be wary nostalgia is 

a bitter herb when 

mixed with regret. 

©️Susie Clevenger 2020

Word Crafters Prompt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Scent of Unseen

 

Her perfume announces

her passage where eyes

don’t trust visions, and fear

twists imagination into a demon’s blink.

 

She was dance, April’s first bloom,

youth’s passion for invincible.

 

October came with skeletons,

and she carried their bones

until the beast’s breastbone

became the final cut.

 

She is now a ballet of narrow dreams,

the last chance haunting those

stuck in wandering spaces where timid

prefers the vinegar of same to wine

bubbling with temptation to change.

 

©Susie Clevenger 2020