Plot Points on Betrayal

featured in the poetry forum June 16, 2022  :: 1 comment

The castle doors were purple.
Walk through the rooms of
endless echoes
and Shakespearean stages.
Take a turn on the carousel.

a medieval dagger to
the heart.
We are still
quite primitive, aren’t we.
So much depends on those
elements of betrayal.

Lady Macbeths are everywhere
these days.

editors note:

And many damned spots abound. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum May 31, 2021  :: 2 comments

On that night
Against the backdrop
of a star-lit dazzling
ink blue sky

Gazing into the
consuming effulgence
of your evocative caramel eyes

On that night
is how I remember love.

editors note:

If you don’t have one, hope you get one soon. – mh clay

Burnt Desert

featured in the poetry forum November 15, 2020  :: 0 comments

Soon, we will go to the desert,
that orange desert
and stand on those crimson dunes,
melt into the cherry rust sand –
surrounded by burnt dust and scorching gold sun

Sand and bone, our bones –
unbroken and elemental
fusing into the soft curves and
clean shape of the chili red quicksilver below

We will drink whiskey from the canteen
and dance the Polonaise from memory,
make primal screams of rapture,
and of bliss

When we get there it
will be worth everything
to have survived –
it will all boil down to this

– just this moment.

editors note:

Bone surfing on sand moment grasped in eager fists. – mh clay

Sunflowers and Silence

featured in the poetry forum May 14, 2020  :: 0 comments

sunflowers the color of bees
seen with your eyes
wide open,
green eyes, green they
made you uneasy, I
changed them to
but baby don’t
you make
my brown eyes –

space, wide open
and silence
seen but not heard
then suddenly not seen
don’t come knocking
I’m not home anymore
close your eyes
check the
garden, out back
beneath the


and doesn’t it sting, shhhh

editors note:

A stinging retort for a blind bumbler. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum September 2, 2019  :: 0 comments

The pink kite against the purple sky –
free to fall, under the weight
of time and yet still floating up on
the buoyancy of love (and oxygen)
gravity – bringing me down.
And you understand me incompletely

editors note:

Says kite to string, lover to loved. Keep it up! – mh clay

Apart (from me)

featured in the poetry forum July 30, 2018  :: 0 comments

I know no one
and no one really knows me
and in that I am free –

I want you to know me
but you don’t know me
and in that I am trapped –

shifting back and forth
back and forth on this see-saw
across time, apart
never really making progress –

my world and theirs
my world always so different from theirs
them me
them me –

now tell me, why do you want to be free?

editors note:

I see; we seek the comfort of captivity, when it’s alone to be free. – mh clay

Us, years later

featured in the poetry forum March 19, 2018  :: 0 comments

Up the broken steps,
between the vodka and the tears,
crying washed out the truths.
We got lost somewhere between
the past and the present.

Somewhere between when those
clear tells fell and the crystal vodka
turned to red blood,
was the trust you needed,
was the truth I wanted.

editors note:

Sometimes it takes years to break that bottle which blocks the way between trust and truth. (We welcome Kimberly to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Paper Memory

featured in the poetry forum July 17, 2017  :: 0 comments

When the colors swirl on a moment
preserving a thought, marking a place in time
a piece of life, that freedom in form
caught on one piece of paper
edited to contrast
an image, color, creating a perfect moment then
a perfect thing now
forever captured for me to hold onto
each paper aligns with one concrete memory
ageless and preserved
how the colors appear and fill in this moment
of my mind, my eyes, transient human reality
embossed, glossed, matted into something tangible
even while not truly understanding how that works
I am in awe of the mystery of it
mysterious proof of life
proof in my hand / proof I can hold
that then I lived.

editors note:

Why we clamor to be in the Book of Life. – mh clay

Virginia’s Liminality and Mine

featured in the poetry forum January 31, 2017  :: 0 comments

We call this liminality,
this space that it is possible to stay in too long
this space that it is possible to never come out of.
But there was a before and there will be an after
Now the clamped hold, the compression, middle
we call this transition, in transition
we change
holding until/holding on
until the time when we run out of breath
until we turn blue
until we rise to the surface or sink down
like a drowning
fear can be a good motivator
be it of life or of death
Liminality is
I have decided to leave (live)
to go but not to let go.
I hold on, waiting for the next thing
hoping it will come and when it does
I fool myself into thinking I knew it would all the time,
when the truth is,
I had no idea
After all, it doesn’t always come for everyone,
isn’t that right Virginia?

editors note:

Those in-between blues; best sung when the “next thing” comes along. – mh clay