(Is it really 2 years since I added anything to this blog? I guess because all of my writing has been entered into my personal, hand-written journals where it happily co-exists with my art madness. OK. These are not new; however, they represent my passion for writing. --SuzyOzone)

Larval Compositions  

When you hear the distant song
Of naked cicadas composing
Beneath cold, dark rock of December,
Fly/flee at once to the refuge of your pen
Let their melodies echo in your ink
Warming the notes to a thaw.
Here upon the rough, lined bark
Your soul emerges, where
You, too, must discard your shell
And climb to chant a summer's eve
Across Eternity
            Beyond Mortality.

(SPOZ-12/2002-from the inside cover of a new journal)

Misplaced Muse

(The irony of this one's title is that I only found page One (of 2?) in my mammoth collection of saved papers; a date printed on the back is April 2007, but who knows if it has anything to do with when I printed the poem on the other side in my feeble attempt to save the Rainforest by conserving paper.)

I've misplaced my Muse once more.
Cleared clutter from my closets
De-junked demons and dumpster dives
Shredded reams of scribbled papers
---she never showed up.

I folded a heap of laundry
As deep as a sigh
But she didn't dance from inside the basket
Of forlorn, un-mated socks.

The sink, piled to the window ledge
With dirty dinner dishes
Didn't disclose the muse
Under the muck covering the counter top.

As I bleached the basin to beaming,
And moisturized my hands,
I wondered why no rhymes had come;
No imagery; neither metaphor or similie;
Not a peep of onomatopoeia, or even
A little alliteration.

In the grumbling hum of the garbage disposal,
I thought I heard her groan to me
Perhaps she's sliding through sewers,
Searching through slimy sludge,
Seeking a spark of inspiration
To share with me.

Maybe not.

The last time I remember playing with her
(and I SHOULD have put her back where she belongs)
I cannot recall--
Was I stewing in a seething saucepan of solitude,
Icy in my isolation,
Frozen in fear?

(To be continued if I can find the next page of this poem; but not right now; I have chores to do first!)
SPOZ