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

Roaring of Truth

Rosie Hardy

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

He cheated on his
WIFE
  Wife
    wife

With that redheaded
FLOOZ
   Flooz
     flooz

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
LIFE
  Life
     life

She attempted to
DIE
  Die
    die

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
BLAME
  Blame
    blame

So’s that redheaded
FLOOZ
  Flooz
    flooz

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
UP
  Up
    up

She was crazy with
BOOZE
  Booze
    booze

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

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

Love - You Lie

Jamie Beck

Love’s illusion,

    Lie’s seclusion.

Smoke’s reflection,

    Mirror’s detection.

Truth’s confusion,

    Heart’s contusion.

Red lips moist

    whisper names.

Brown eyes hide

    mascara’s aim.

Beauty spins

    roulette’s round game.

Shattered glass reeks of rum.

Starving crows eat stale crumb.

Empty pools curse noon sun.

Love lies.

Smoke hides.

Mirror cries.

Truth dies.

Heart sighs.

Deceitfulness is a beauty I cannot tame.

Why even try?

Love,

    you lie.

We Are What Is

Thomas Hart Benson

Winds

Coastal blows

Draw us close

Knit and stitched

We breathe as one

With separate lungs

We are what is

Not skewed in cubes

Or obtuse views

All natural

In our region

Left of June

Under sun and tides of moon

Hope's Infatuation

Spring loves morning's dawn

Releases dreams to breezes

Hope's reflection sings

Encroachment

There’s an Oak in the woods that tells tales

About cypress, maples, and pines

All the saplings would listen

And pay close attention

About the humans

Their encroachment

Man’s hunger

To kill

Trees

Not Guilty

I don’t want to hear the jury’s logic

No thought or twisted reason

No instinct or whim of fancy

My heart fluttered like rapids on a river

Interrupted my buzz

A poem for the world

Galloping to resist the echo of

Not guilty

For Wordle 12

Bobbie Gail

Bobbie Gail is not my friend

Ice cubes

Turncoat

Crocodile

Hootchie momma

Bobbie Gail

Is

Two

Crazy

Hells

Bobbie Gail is not my friend

Is

That

Clear

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm

Or do I need to spell it out


NOTE:  Bobbie Gail is a totally fictional character; trust me.

Let Me Fall Above

ǝʌoqɐ llɐɟ ǝɯ ʇǝl
ǝʌol ɹnoʎ ɹoɟ sʞuɐɥʇ
ǝɯoɹ ɟo oƃ ’uıʇʇǝl
ǝɯoɥ ’uıɯoɔ ɯ’ı

ʇdʎɹɔ sıɥʇ ɟo oƃ ʇǝl ll’ı
ʇınb ɐuuoƃ ʇ’uıɐ noʎ ǝɔuıs ʇnq
uʍop ǝpısdn plɹoʍ ʎɯ uɹnʇ
punoɟ ǝq ı ɟı ǝɹɐɔ noʎ ʎɥʍ

ǝuoƃ sɐɥ ǝɯıʇ ʎɯ

ƃuolɐ uo ǝʌoɯ
ǝɯoɥ ʎɯ sı sıɥʇ
ǝuolɐ ǝɯ ǝʌɐǝl

uʍoɹɔ uǝploƃ ou pǝǝu ʇ’uop ı
uʍoɹɟ ʎɟɯoɔ sıɥʇ ɹɐǝʍ ǝɯ ʇǝl
oƃ ǝɯ ʇǝl ʇsnɾ p’noʎ ɥsıʍ
ʍouʞ ʇ’uop ı ǝɯ ǝʌol noʎ ʎɥʍ

sʇsɐɔ ɟo pǝǝu uı sǝuoq uǝʞoɹq
ʇsɐd sǝɹıds uı ǝpıɥ ǝɯ ʇǝl
uʍop ǝpısdn plɹoʍ ʎɯ uɹnʇ
punoɟ ǝq ı ɟı ǝɹɐɔ noʎ ʎɥʍ

ǝuoƃ sɐɥ ǝɯıʇ ʎɯ
ƃuolɐ uo ǝʌoɯ
ǝɯoɥ ʎɯ sı sıɥʇ
ǝuolɐ ǝɯ ǝʌɐǝl

ʇɥƃıɹlɐ uo ʇǝƃ ı puɐ ʇsɐd ǝɥʇ
ʇɥƃıu ǝɥʇ uı ƃuıpıɥ ǝʞıl ı
 ʎqɐllnl ʎɯ ʎɹɔ ǝɯ ʇǝl
ʎq sʞɔıʇ ǝɯıʇ ɟı ǝɹɐɔ ʇ’uop ı

pǝq ʎɯ oʇ ʞɔɐq lʍɐɹɔ ǝɯ ʇǝl
ʞɔǝu ʎɯ punoɹ‘ ǝlƃuɐɹʇs ǝlƃunɾ
pɐǝp ǝɥʇ oʇ uo ƃuıƃuɐɥ
pɐǝɥ ʎɯ oʇ ƃuıɥsnɹ poolq

Neil Alexander

Need Shade

We are going to the river

On the sunny north bank

It needs shade

Dad says it’s a good idea

I’m going to leave you there

And return for many visits

Even sitting in your cool shadow

With my great granddaughter

And talk about her mother’s

Mother …

… my mommy

And have a tea party

Like she did with me

Her ashes will help you grow

And protect us on the treeless side

Of the big-o-river wide

Where mommy fell asleep in her car

With a letter asking

Why

Were going to the river

On the sunny north bank

It needs some shade

PRISUN

I see sun

But no dawn

Please

Van Gogh

Trapped in agony’s abstract expression

Paralyzed sunrise

Green eyes surprised eternally

With the sameness of insane

Every day

Same on same

Please

Allow this dawn to breathe

Smell real grass not splashed with oil

Scents of real soil

Warmth from sun’s embrace

Shade cooled by rolling hills

A place

Clocks tick

Faucets drip

Wheat waves at living skies

Never to fade from time

Not a trick of trade

But perspective

From soul

Please

Allow this dawn to breathe