They Hung Me on a Dying Tree

featured in the poetry forum March 31, 2024  :: 0 comments

They hung me on a dying tree
and watched me struggle
to maintain a rebellious frown

in a blue night
finally choking
as my neck turned purple

until unmoving
not breathing
they left me

but somehow a spark
from a lone streak
of lightning

struck me
and the dying tree
simultaneously

cutting the rope
and healing the throats
of the tree and me

leaves slowly moved
as if raising their heads
and giving thanks

I fell to the ground
touching my neck
still in a state of unbelief

and the world began again
the tree’s tears
refreshing us

somehow reliving
everything in a different light
complete understanding

the villains soon crying
inside themselves
faraway in a breeze of forgiveness
some eventually accepting

unable to explain
the change of heart
with tears that burn an opening

leaf
flesh
thought
change

power of the God of trees and men

editors note:

A resurrection; enough to make the villains cry and the faithful fly free. This day and every. – mh clay

Bucktoothed

featured in the poetry forum November 27, 2023  :: 0 comments

No time to turn
around in the dust
of earth and man

we’re going down
screwed
toes first

around and around
night into day
memories blurred
better that way

until at last
head showing above
body below dirt

waiting for the giant hammer
pounding us into place

cork in the gopher hole

how we all look
bucktoothed.

editors note:

A little more depth to what it means to be screwed. – mh clay

The Red Rose

featured in the poetry forum August 19, 2023  :: 0 comments

I came back to the scent
of the red rose

in the back alley near the corner
just before sunset

and stood there inspecting its
delicacy

bending into it
inhaling the giving of its blood

dripping with a tap on my shoe
somehow explaining itself

like a lover eternal.

I was tempted
to snap it from its slender body

but I just couldn’t bear the sound
it might scream as a car drove by

I being known to cause riots
in the past

with just words.

I drifted back to my motel room
in El Paso believing I felt the pain

of the homeless gathering
and wondering where

the end would come.

I’m too old now
to count my change

after buying dinner
in a fast-food bubble

thinking the world is not
a dump

growing trash on trash
a red rose on top

a flag of accomplishment?

editors note:

With such blooms on every corner, what have we accomplished? – mh clay

The Best Place

featured in the poetry forum November 25, 2022  :: 0 comments

Back road
taking it past the valley
up into the hills
smooth slopes of grass
spreading my long coat out
and laying back
on a pillow hill
gazing up
into the high and far sky
this world that I am in
has changed so
unrecognizable
happenings
beyond my sight
scaring me to death
realizing
this is the best place
to pray for an end
and accept the possibilities.

editors note:

Resigned to what we can’t see, accepting what we’ll soon be. – mh clay

My Father

featured in the poetry forum June 12, 2022  :: 0 comments

In the beginning
his hum from the other room,

electric typewriter
writing novels,

touch of money,
taste of fame,

alias name
welded with fire,

atmosphere of brilliance
his printed words.

We fell asleep every night
his three sons,
young dreamers
listening to his quickening
constant tides of thoughts,

typing
tapping
dancing
walls heated by his ideas,

ceiling disappearing to sky
visions with stars

disbelief of his sudden death

we continue to write like him,
lightning streaks
lit by our chase of gods.

editors note:

Inspired sons by father’s hum. – mh clay

Scars

featured in the poetry forum March 4, 2022  :: 0 comments

Escaping
on backroads made of scars

across a checkerboard country
of red and blue

carrying books of faces
and words of prophecy

tattoos on skin
graffiti on walls

telling the past
and now downfall of our land

we know the truth
has been twisted

chaos has come
head-butting with horns

but deep inside
we will live on

century after century
we have not been here
to come to an end.

editors note:

Still here, but carrying these scars from gen to gen. – mh clay

Stop Sign

featured in the poetry forum October 16, 2021  :: 0 comments

She closes the car door slowly
Leaving me as she cries

Middle of night
Crescent moon
Deserted road
Corn crops tall in every direction

She walks away
Head down
Miles to the nearest halo of light

I turn the car off
Get out and follow her

My car door left open
Keys in the ignition
Headlights on
The back of her beauty
A magnet
Pulling at me and the stars above

She says quietly
I just want to wander for a while

And I let her
In my silent
Guilt

Her sadness to know
Everything
She thinks and won’t tell

The stop sign
No longer stopping her

Tearing at her dress
Gasping for the years
To speed up and slow her down.

editors note:

A tragic jam. – mh clay

Blue Moon

featured in the poetry forum May 20, 2021  :: 0 comments

World so still
between chaos eruptions

temporary quiet
giving hope a glimmer

memories moving in
heart settling

tranquil breeze
erasing tracks of tears

faraway rooftops
unseen decay

bent trees
appearing like bushes

rush of dread
highway near empty

path of smooth travel
places to visit

when yesterday had a future
promises and dreams

steep sky lifting
a blue moon.

editors note:

The doomsters deal in reds. The blues are better. – mh clay

Mask of the Restless Crowd

featured in the poetry forum January 11, 2021  :: 0 comments

The restless crowd
Wearing the cloth of change

Infestation of our own doing

Friendship with fury
The tragedy of blame

Cough stains
A haunting hope

Free-for-all
But no one free

Most in a slow fit

Doing our time
Until done

When the rains come
Washing it all away

In floods and fire.

editors note:

Playing on our news feeds now. – mh clay

Outcasts

featured in the poetry forum May 22, 2018  :: 0 comments

We’re back but not bent
On the bottom list

Darker down here
Stars brighter

Easier to walk streets
Unnoticed and malnourished

Scribbling notes with a sharp pencil
Ignoring background traffic

Our brains on lines of poetry
Words and feelings struggling

On breaths of hopeful wisdom
Never knowing if we’ve started a riot

Robot flesh still kicking us aside
Deleting our factual history

A one-world-click
Ultimate maze of misery

They pass us blindly fixed
As we taste the final fruit of Spirit

They snake higher up their skyscrapers
For a longer lean into a fall

Funny how the few of us
Outcasts to oracles

Usually end up in silence
Sitting on a mountaintop

On breaths of hopeful wisdom
Never knowing if we’ve started a riot.

editors note:

Prophets or perpetrators; maybe one in the same? We may not know, but we hope so. – mh clay