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Henry Clemmons
P.S. Yes, the tree is there, just on a page of its own :)
The UnderSide of Green
Poetry, prose, and lyrics from Henry Clemmons.
Monday, August 15, 2011
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
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
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
Death
Aimed at
Me
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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