Clem C

Clem C Jan 2014

One clove a day
health eternal I pray
that it is not true,
for I am well short
of the twenty two thousand
to have been eaten
by this date

one plant if it were new to enter
anywhere, would not pass inspection
as a common garden vegetable,
it would take decades and investigation,
to give the nod to forty garlic chicken
or even to transport one clove.

some say it is the taste,
to others it is the waft,
of air in advance of the consumer,
knowing it does the body good,
but if one eats garlic and your mate
must too, or there may be a break in that allure

each cluster
is a toxin buster,
if you can muster
the appetite.

each group
can raise a whoop,
from a troop
of the healthy.

eat it raw to digest
your will to resist,
that all will cease
and desist, to disagree.

eat it cooked,
make it good,
that it would
deliver
all the benefits
your friends
will understand

even
from
across
the room

Maybe why... I am alone.

Clem C Jan 2014

Where would you move to?

I think I might move to Phoenix,
Will they let me on the plane
with feet in blocks of ice, the pain!
Will they let me in the aircraft,
my icy hands, blue, cause a draft,
                     when I would wave,
                        my boarding card.

I think I might move to Phoenix,
I hear they have a hockey team,
to watch them, it would be a dream,
come true, I would find comfort and care,
for my cold extremities at the arena there,
                         for my heart is always beating
                         time as I am running hard.

Moving is so strange from the free range I live on now,
             but I know when I retire it will not be to Oslo.
And you where would you move, you concrete block?

©ClemC012014

No offence intended to other types of blocks...just substitute your type for concrete or ice.

Clem C Dec 2013

Feel

Feel the cold crystals in your fingertips,
feel the change,
feel the water,
feel the warmth,
as your body gives, and once what was snow, takes.

Feel the cold ball as you compress it in the palm of your hand,
feel the change,
feel it harden,
feel the cold grow as
the snowball compacts and becomes icy hard.

Feel your heart beating
put your coldest hand
on your skin and chest,
feel the change in heart rate,
your skin fights the temperature,
and your body and heart give, and what was once cold to you, warmth.

©ClemC122013

Forgiveness

Clem C Dec 2013

Sweeping Snow

I glide only so well, work too hard,
telemark, get set, go,
it all has to be a race, I disregard,
the full moon light,
the sun went away,
I still play at my pace,
frosted beard whitens my face,
years and years of going down hill,
something I do on skis as well, beyond my fill,
beyond my years, with only so much skill
I see the sweeping curves and shift of weight,
bend my knee and play with the balance or fate,
trace my fingers in the snow, such powder is
rare, like the air up where there is room to spare,
I hope that when I am gone one day,
some how these many tracks will
stay and I can see them from Valhalla,
Heaven for the Norse,
"Warrior" of course, off course,
I will continue to work (myself) away,
then play all day, when the moon lights
the way and stay longer than is right
for the weekend is the weak end of my
strength, to tear myself back to my home,
I alone.

©ClemC122013

Dec 17 full moon @ 10:29 am, skiriffic

Clem C Dec 2013

Winter Shave

frozen in front of a mirror, with my razor in my hand,
                                      poised
in front of the slippery white gel solution, softening,
                                     the beard,
all over my face while, out my frosted window white
                                 background
to a clear pane of glass, smooth as the blades touch
                                    my face,
there is no drag, just precision until there are sleigh bells jingling,
                                   going by
on the road and the runners and blades skim through with little
                           resistance, both cut
their way through white, until I am done, with out a nick
                               or a scratch,
over and over again until white becomes wind-burned bright pink hue
                 and the forested dial, becomes a bare cutblock.
                              And a warm
               rinse of water or two and we are through.

                    ©ClemC122013

Clem C Dec 2013

Empty reflections

Parts, of the body,
Start, with faces, the
Heart ↗↘↗↘beats,
A part that holds it together.

Mirrors have I
Lining walls of
Every surface,
Of every empty
Moment,
Arrogance, no,
Need to see my
Emotions,
Need to be able to not hide,
For when I am alone,
I can dance all the time,
While seeing my eyes, move
Reading my lips, out loud,
Throwing myself with regret
A Cross, the rooms, where,
All the doors have been removed,
And if,
I fall,
I get up,
To dance,
Kicking clear
Signs of boxing day numbers,
Until they shatter on each,
Like my dreams, my mirrors.

Parts of a body
Depart with feet,
Smart ❇⭐↪✴moves,
Carte Blanche without shoes.

©ClemC122013

Clem C Nov 2013

A month

A month has gone by, gone,
I have been busy, what have I done,
I smile at the faces in the market,
they smile back, there are no strangers
here,
no one knows me, well not really,
it is just not done or right, where we live,
I ride my bike weighted down with goods,
the wheels turn, but always come back to the same spot,
just like I do, where
I live on the edge of the wild woods,
as we called to each other
as children, "never go there alone",
like I do, like I live, like I love
to spend time, like it is the only currency that counts,
walk and run among the trees and fall of leaves,
as a child I did so in fear,
and the fear of being caught,
as an adult
there is no fear,
except
one day it will stop.
I will stop.
But not, at least, this month.

©ClemC112013