I Moved Blog Locations

I changed over to WordPress.  Come pay me a visit at:  http://henryclemmons.wordpress.com/

Thank you.

Henry Clemmons

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

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

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

BUT

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

Beware

And pray bold

I swear

Until my song is sung outside a screen

I’m real

Look away

Please

Let me escape

And shop at Wal-Mart for my eggs

Please don’t make me show my legs

Look away

Please

Look away

Help me escape

Cement Prophets

The crawling sun announces

A morning tender

Rusty scars blend with orange(ish) dawn streaks

But

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"

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
Death
Aimed at
Me

A poor black man
Cracked skin
Indented dark
Circles
Pulling on
Brown faded
Eyes
Brimmin’
With tears
Flowin’
Down
Drippin' from
A large
Knotted
Nose
Shadowin’ a
Bristly black
Mustache
Twitching
Along with
My swollen
Upper lip
Leakin’ blood
Slowly from
It’s right corner
Split

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

Tired from
Workin’
Sunset to
Sunrise
Buildin’ a church
White paint
Cross
Windows
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
Blackened
Scarred neck
And pullin’ me
Up off
My blistered
White bottomed
Feet
Toenails long
Reach as I
Hang
Prayin’

That the second church
With a
Licensed black
Preacher
Can at least
Share the
Word with
Fellow
Freed men
And pray
For those
Still bound in
Satan’s hate

I’m comin’
Jesus
Amen.

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

But

Shadows know better

Hearts do too

Speeding thumps

Skip

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

Ticks

As

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