Monday, August 15, 2011

I Moved Blog Locations

I changed over to WordPress.  Come pay me a visit at:

Thank you.

Henry Clemmons

P.S.  Yes, the tree is there, just on a page of its own :)

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Churns Dream

NOTE:  My attempt at a Ghazal for dversePoets

Love sings through trees from river breeze, eyes closed my mind churns dream
Though limbs have knots and leaves with spots, eyes closed my mind churns dream

Deformed at birth the scourge of earth, worn cloth does hide her face
But in self’s shrine her skin does shine, eyes closed my mind churns dream

The virgin maid grows old like dates, shadows become her home
But ocean waves revive her state; eyes closed my mind churns dream

A jilted bride, alone does cry, on altars strewn with dung
But choirs sing erasing sting, eyes closed my mind churns dream

Her bed is cold, no man to hold, gray wolves circle her yard
But candles warm caress her arm; eyes closed my mind churns dream

Poet Henry’s blind heart does see, and prays for world peace
She’s not ugly, new heart’s beauty; eyes closed my mind churns dream

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Look Away Please

Sarah Joncas

When woods are pink and birds court me with tokens red
When gold is boredom’s song and finest robes feel rough
My strings faint mute in search of muse’s scent of life
My name is called by sunlit streets to dance at dawn
Yet forests deep with webs as bars cripple my chance

My life really has no meter
No rhyme
No steady beat
My verse is crime

I cry on my guitar that gently sleeps
I pray for morning’s chance to breathe
I want to sing my song
I beg freedom
But weep

I’ve lost
Surrendered hope
I’m hid like a trophy
For all to see from distant lands
I’ve lost myself in wedding vows of lust
In woods of pink where birds court me with tokens red

I’m breathing dead
My faith is dust

I’m a silent slave to snare your soul
Look beyond my beauty cold
It’s not really there
I’m sold
And painted for old men
To see


And pray bold
I swear
Until my song is sung outside a screen

I’m real
Look away
Let me escape
And shop at Wal-Mart for my eggs
Please don’t make me show my legs
Look away
Look away
Help me escape

Cement Prophets

The crawling sun announces
A morning tender
Rusty scars blend with orange(ish) dawn streaks
Cement prophets proclaim torments scream
Black clouds close like stage curtains quickly
Tender moments swept away in Act I
Love notes lost
Memories walk west and disappear

For Wordle 16

My BFF: Autumn Gold

I love Autumn Gold
Not as sexy as Summer
But a cool best friend

For Haiku Heights "Friendship"

Monday, August 8, 2011

Pacifica Love :)

Pacifica Love

Inkless wells
On a sandy south Pacific shore.
A salty breeze
Cooling a hammock in Palm Tree shadows.
Rum and fruit and ice.
Your tanned belly pierced rises and falls slowly,
Curly blonde hair frames sun kissed face and smile.
No alarm clocks,
No cell phones,
No deadlines,
Just me and you
On the Isle of Pleasure.

For Sunday Scribblings "Pleasure"

A Murdered Seed

Voices, loud, raspy, angry
Hurl through the air
Like cannonballs
Red with hate
Armed with
Aimed at

A poor black man
Cracked skin
Indented dark
Pulling on
Brown faded
With tears
Drippin' from
A large
Shadowin’ a
Bristly black
Along with
My swollen
Upper lip
Leakin’ blood
Slowly from
It’s right corner

From a brick
Thrown from
The darkness
Of pale faces
Formin’ a sea
Stirred in storm
White capped
Wind whipped
Surf crashing
It’s waves
Mixin’ with
My stolen
Seems to
Feed the
Frenzy of
A murderous
High tide
Rushin’ in
‘round my
Swollen ankles

Tired from
Sunset to
Buildin’ a church
White paint
Some pews
The first
In my Parrish
A free
Black preacher
With a license
To call
On God
Whom I
Pray to
Forgive those
Who just
Put a rope
Round my
Scarred neck
And pullin’ me
Up off
My blistered
White bottomed
Toenails long
Reach as I
That the second church
With a
Licensed black
Can at least
Share the
Word with
Freed men
And pray
For those
Still bound in
Satan’s hate

I’m comin’

For Poetry Potluck History

War's Whisper

Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

Winter wars birth death on summer porches lit with reunion hope

Final kisses
Promises lipped

Shadows know better
Hearts do too
Speeding thumps

Before brass is formed to killing shells

Woods are cleared for caskets
Flags are sewn for lovers unwilling
To accept

War’s wind whispers in summer dark
A queer chilled breeze
Passes quick
A sick knowing
Winter’s wail waits camouflaged
Cloaked in black suits and dresses still hung in closets bare
Lovers storing tears as they kiss goodbye
On summer porches lit with reunion hope
And prayer

For Magpie Tales 77

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Roaring of Truth

Rosie Hardy

Soaring vultures
Circling whispers
Half-dead road kill … stain eastbound lanes … on Highway 6

He cheated on his

With that redheaded

That’s what we heard … no reason to doubt … has to be true

Waves of black bats
Wakes of echoes
Fly in and out … shadowed towers … silvery moon

He tormented her

She attempted to

That’s what we heard … no reason to doubt … has to be true

Razor sharp tongues
Dark clouds of wasps
Wind driven sleet … bloodied whipped welts … tortured torn skin

The husband’s to

So’s that redheaded

That’s what we heard … no reason to doubt … has to be true

Cat o’ nine tails
Whistling wet air
Horrific screams … feed the roar of … Niagara lies

Hey, she made it all

She was crazy with

That’s what we heard … wasn’t our fault … thought it was true

Meandering river
Greenish smooth blue
Glimmering light … frames a body … facedown and gone

That’s what they caused … wasn’t their first … done it before

Bloodied crude nails
Stabbing red flesh
Hanging from wood … up on a hill … truth crucified

They Called Him a fake … they jeered to His face … then asked was He true

The silence of Calvary
The roaring of truth

Friday, July 15, 2011

My Walls Rhyme Not

My walls rhyme not

My adjective’s untidy order swim upstream lazily

Insanity screams in happy colors in warm waves of cold slaps

My walls unrhyme from our vocabulary family reunion at Loneliness Junction where voices are free verse taunts of nervous laughter

Upstream my adjectives bleed in bear’s mouths

Orange drives me crazy

No rhyme or reason

The color of my mental state’s flag at half-mast upsidedown-all-bunchedtogether

Alone with my loneliness we listen in corners orange

My walls rhyme not

I'm Just a Man (Recording Experiment ... I can't sing)

I am in the mood to change my tree to a cubic version.