Susie Clevenger

Susie Clevenger Aug 19

There’s a smile that wants
to dance across my lips,
but I taste its sweet,
and I haven’t an urge for sugar.

I do find humor in the
civil war on my face,
and the audience
who’s not sure if I’m angry
or simply (if simple ever fits) insane.

My husband swears I’ve been
reading Bukowski again,
those whiskey cigarette lines
keeping his bluebird from
nesting in my chest.

It’s a day… Just a day.
I‘ll get through it, around it
or over it.

But that smile, hmmm,
I’ll keep it to a smirk.

#attitude #life #bukowski #influence

Susie Clevenger Aug 19

Wading Through Ink

This poem is everything
I didn’t erase

The sea I swam until
the shore was closer
than drowning.

My mind took so many detours.
I ran toward the sun,
become tangled in why
I didn’t do the dishes,
wondered if my bookshelf
had one more space for Apocalyptic.

Sitting in the litter of what
I couldn’t complete I question
if this is poetry or confession.

Tuesday has way more ink
than I have words for paper.

#stuck #wading #ink #words

Susie Clevenger Aug 18

Enough Calluses for Freedom

He was stone,
hard edges,
and brittle words.

I walked among
the gravel until
I had enough
calluses to leave.

I write this for all the women I know who have found their freedom.

#abuse #freedom #strength

Aug 18

Joy Ann Jones

Walking The Paper Plank

In the wildest place,
my mouth stopped with stars,
I came to the end of words;
the parched mint, bitter
paper plank

where I lost my balance,
on one foot teetering
along that roadway where gold-
flashing fireflies stand effortlessly
on air

to send their fragile signal
out,
every night a nocturne
of one less
til I and the last firefly

danced alone
in the wildest place
sending our last ignition
out
to find our kind

or else fall quiet
and one
with the wild that
will neither be spelled
nor known.

©joyannjones June 2023

Susie Clevenger Aug 18

Brushstrokes of Van Gogh

“I often think that the night is more alive and more
richly colored than the day.” –Vincent Van Gogh

I painted Tuesday with stars hoping
Van Gogh would woo the iris
to rise from their winter melancholy.
~ ~ ~
What is a day without stars
or night without sun?

Beyond the horizon
Van Gogh’s brush
paints sunflowers
on the cheeks of the moon.
~ ~ ~
The sky fell in starlight strokes
of Van Gogh.
Like a child chasing butterflies
I collected wishes on the tip
of my brush to paint joy
in my valley of sorrow.

Each small poem was inspired by a quote and brushstrokes of Van Gogh

#art #inspiration #van #gogh

Susie Clevenger Aug 17

A Question of Synonyms

Across the street
her grass grows much
greener than mine.

Here grass struggles
with pine needles
to feel the sun.

Could it be we
live in a thesaurus
where she chose effort
while I was assigned toil.

#garden #thesaurus #choices

Susie Clevenger Aug 17

Dreaming of Gravel

I once hung clothes
from a line, canned
strawberries, and wished
for paved streets.

Now, I long for gravel
dusted sheets blowing in the wind
beside strawberry fields
concrete can’t reach.

#yearning #dreams #change