Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018 · 136
Last night's dream
Clinton Arneson Aug 2018
Dreamed of suicide.

Wasn't a nightmare.
I'll get help
May 2017 · 173
A fire, clear and rare
Clinton Arneson May 2017
And so, the quiet knows
In time, the distance grows

I call her name, at last
The dice are therein cast

I see her; through her shield
Through the shell, unsealed

A light that dances there
A fire, clear and rare

I reach to it, and find
My hand and arm

I pull it back, declined
The contrast sharp;

I’ll never know her light
I’ll never earn the right

I’m dark; I don’t deserve
This knowledge, I’ll preserve

She goes her wayward way
Respectfully, I’ll stay.
Mar 2017 · 189
The Huntress
Clinton Arneson Mar 2017
The giant bird

his feathers black

runs along

his favored track

I crouch down low

amid the reeds

the spear I hold

toward, he speeds

the time has come

my family starves

through frozen air

my spear tip carves

Flying true

Or maybe wide

with wind and

gravity it vied

and will it hit?

and bring him down?

will I return

to great renown?

The darkness comes

the sun has set

the snow alights

the valley wet

I see the fire

on the ridge

my arms are sore

but just a smidge

for I return

a huntress true

with meat enough

for all of you
Mar 2017 · 229
Sammy's Poem
Clinton Arneson Mar 2017
Sammy’s poem

The badguys’ plan at last revealed –
She calmly dons her plastic shield –

With sword a-forged in mighty nerf –
She aims to prove her steely worth –

Freshly cleaned by mop and broom –
Our battleground; the living room –

The couch becomes a fort for dad –
The ottoman, her launching pad –

Lofty on the mezzanine –
Sagely mom surveys the scene –

As Sammy shouts her battle cry –
And Aussie leaps as if to fly –

I raise my arms and give a roar –
And lumber wildly from the door –

She never falters, shakes, or quakes –
Within her heart, a hero wakes.
Jan 2017 · 432
Pretty Pal of mine
Clinton Arneson Jan 2017
Astute young face, aglow
Her hair from gold to snow

Eyes betwixt walnut and coal
What sly, coy secrets they know

Her powerful glance doth sow
an end to every last foe

and the barest of smiles to show
how strong she will one day grow
Nov 2016 · 243
The Maiden's Veil
Clinton Arneson Nov 2016
How the Maiden’s Veil doth shimmer!
Tis a sun itself,
this spread of stars;
a sundered-sun!
so once like ours!
But cracked and poured
Great egg,
many jars,
One sun became
Septillion shards!
A character of mine describes the galaxy he sees at night.

Milky Way = The Maiden's Veil
Oct 2016 · 223
Clinton Arneson Oct 2016

We shall strive to acknowledge that we are wholly responsible for creating, and maintaining, the destructively false interpretations of the physical differences between ourselves.

We shall strive to acknowledge that we are, in fact, all representatives of the same, fragile creature… one which is prone to ignorance and fear... but also capable earning one another’s respect and support through the wonders of accountability.

We shall strive to hold one another to the rigorous standards of truth, and through this unifying obligation, we shall be equipped to recognize that we do not, in fact, have enemies, but simply acquiesce to fears.

When we have done these things, we will know, at last, our true obstacle.

Unified forever, as a singular humanity aligned against this obstacle, we would reach the stars.

Humanity’s true obstacle: the thoughtlessness which arises from the comfort provided by absolute certainty.
Not exactly a poem, but still. I wanted to put it somewhere.
Oct 2016 · 204
End of a run
Clinton Arneson Oct 2016
Her rhythm broke.

She cantered, missed a breath… and down her carefree castle fell.

No longer held aloft within the wings of her runner’s trance, she despaired of her return to the Realm; to be mired amid its dirt and difficulty once more.
Prose from my third book ~ I rather like it.
Aug 2016 · 285
Rose in the Dust
Clinton Arneson Aug 2016
The Brahman trampled by
I thought she’d surely die
But up from salted sands
A wild rose there stands

Cloud of dust at dusk
Horns and hides of rust
Brey and sprint and ******
Stampede in breach of trust

She stood before them tall
Her will to still them all
I saw her stand, and fall
Amid their hooves, ragdoll

I thought her gone; undone
An angel death had won

Then up from salted sands
My wild rose then stands
She grins, and slaps her hands
And chases down her brands
A scene from my pal's comic book world
Mar 2016 · 235
Clinton Arneson Mar 2016
I am the moth ~
that met the flame ~

I knew the light ~
I know the pain
Oct 2015 · 329
~ An ode to Corporal Tun
Clinton Arneson Oct 2015
We built a crystal fortress

With walls of clarity.

Looking out, and crying ‘evil’

Safe in sanctuary

We built a crystal prison

A cage of clarity.

We’re fixed to one perspective

Unless we hammer free

To leave a crystal fortress

to volunteer for doubt

To dare ourselves examine

Ourselves, within, without

We leave a crystal prison

And while sacrificing ease,

We sacrifice false certainty

And live free of fear’s disease.
Clinton Arneson Sep 2015
At every sigh the world breathes ~
sway the tops of myriad trees ~
by season’s end, the brilliant leaves
from trembling twig
tumble ~
to dance; delight
in joy Autumnal
Jul 2015 · 288
When a Spell Misfires ~
Clinton Arneson Jul 2015
Errant little lights ~
of colors marvelous ~
tiny whirrs and whistles ~
sing so sonorous ~

Oh, how they whip and whirl ~
about my silly form ~
tiny, little, laughing lightning ~
tiny little storm ~

the wind abides to swirl my sleeves ~
and offers naught but heat’s reprieve ~

to gaff in gathering gifts so grim ~
the world delights in whimsy-whim
Written by a fictional character called 'Vance Ants in Pants' who appears, rather subtlety, in my book series.
Jun 2015 · 312
For Natalie
Clinton Arneson Jun 2015
A scratching jeer from oblivion below;
it slithers, slimes an ascent to sow ~

from chasm's brim, a hateful throw
the seeds of lies, stupidity, woe ~

they scatter, skitter, to and fro;
sink subtle roots to sickly grow ~

upon her heart and mind this foe
seeks to beat her; tear her low

~ ~ ~

Leaden soul, stung by sin;
she leans toward this chasm's brim;
her eyes, through blur, on black within
she feels the pull...
...of plunging in

To join the dark and scorning din;
to seek her balm in demon kin
to let them know, with evil grin
she let them win...
she let them win...
...and upon her heart
with vicious pin
she'll seal
in steel,
impervious skin

~ ~ ~

A conflict stirs.
She stays behind.

A sense occurs.
She has her mind.

Her heart is hers.
Her soul, unsigned.

~ ~ ~

She slowly stands, her pain and all;
her voice commands her not to fall

it cracks as whisper, keening, small;
and kills the ******* one and all

For they who feed on fear and hate;
they who seek our souls to bait;
do so that they might conflate
by other's pain
in vain
themselves upon a higher state...

...but when they find an ounce of weight
of courage, dear
they dissipate

~ ~ ~

And as the silence thereby grows
she feels their absence, and she knows
their secret hers to now expose:

the pain they sought
for to impose
belonged to them
and they propose
to use her soul
I now disclose
as means by which
their pain dispose

She whirls about upon her toes
upon a better path she goes
Jun 2015 · 324
Rocks on the Coast
Clinton Arneson Jun 2015
Stalwart stone,
Restless waves ~

Wanton water,
stone staves ~

Standing firm,
Water breaks ~

what wonders there,
the clashing makes
May 2015 · 227
Clinton Arneson May 2015
I see your smiling face ~
in embrace of lovely lace ~
as you twirl amid the clouds ~

sail, slip serene ~
liquid, lunar gleam ~
silver, silent sliver ~
silhouette ~
Apr 2015 · 277
For Luna
Clinton Arneson Apr 2015
Thou art a rose upon the moon ~
who flies her helium balloon ~
through stars from night to noon~

For I find your friendship boon ~
and you bring smiles to this loon ~
please feel lighter friend, and soon ~
Clinton Arneson Mar 2015
And so, it came to pass...
This fair, and hungry lass...
became, no more inert...
and got herself yogurt.
Clinton Arneson Mar 2015
For the world is a wonder ~
which experience doth sunder ~
and render miracles mundane ~

In her, we see anew ~
her experience in lieu ~
and with her, love the wonder of a train.
Nov 2014 · 278
Upon seeing my Bride
Clinton Arneson Nov 2014
"...for the gift of your discretion,

the astounding honor of your trust,

and I so surely knowing now,

you've found me somehow just;

from this magnitude of knowledge,

I may recover by and by;

though n'er shall I forget this day ~

when heaven filled my eye."
Nov 2014 · 297
My Daughter's Hair
Clinton Arneson Nov 2014
Thine locks,
like flocks,
of auburn birds on wing...

They speak,
for every living thing...

They say,
their way,
and silently they sing...

Of life,
and rife,
with beauty they doth bring.
Oct 2014 · 270
Clinton Arneson Oct 2014
Pink, white, and blue,
blending, bending, billion hue

shadows sharp, nearby trees,
photons fail, camera sees

a very distant day is ending;
a day nearby to she, in sending

whilst I alone in morning dim
write her this poem, but by a whim
Oct 2014 · 1.3k
Clinton Arneson Oct 2014
Gentle rain, deflected deftly; their hammock under oak

Memory made, indelible; sweet;
neither of them spoke

Grey sky's pallet, infinite shades;
their gentle touch invoke

a pair of foreheads, gently meet;
new love, within, awoke
Oct 2014 · 411
Goodnight, Katherine
Clinton Arneson Oct 2014
Moon hung high,
night wind sigh,
distant cricket sings

windows wide,
curtains fly,
a lilac's scent it brings

her heavy eyes,
her quilt applies,
snugly under wing

find your sleep,
warm and deep,
and morning bell shall ring
Oct 2014 · 232
Vanesa's poem
Clinton Arneson Oct 2014
Out of the blue ~
delightful and new ~
an artist has graced me her time.

Her study of lovely ~
has made my day sunny ~
and thus inspired this rhyme.

When kindness arrives ~
it brightens up lives ~
I hope that she will understand.

Were I not to accept,
and repay this debt,
Then I would be less of a man.
Sep 2014 · 588
Vanesa's Kitty
Clinton Arneson Sep 2014
Mia, Mia ~
Eyes of greena
Always happy,
for to see ya!

Resting on
a blanket blue;
Needs a scratch
or two
from you.

Marshmallow light,
and ashen white;
for your honor,
she shall fight!
Sep 2014 · 315
Kat's poem
Clinton Arneson Sep 2014
What a work of wonder;
I'm struck, as if by thunder;
such loveliness I see ~

These honest eyes, pristine;
Liquid, lightest green;
she has shared with me ~

Exquisite flaxen locks;
They wave and roll in flocks;
Like amber birds toward sea ~

Her nose? Adorable;
The cutest nose I know;
I mean this earnestly ~

Her smile is candy pink;
She’s shy, a bit, I think;
She truly needn't be ~

She I’ll see one day;
Though it may be far away;
We’ll hug and laugh and squee ~

She is my distant friend;
To her, my heart I send;
Her talent, I defend;
Her happiness, I tend;
And hope to see again;
To Kat, this poem I pen ~
Clinton Arneson Sep 2014
Firelight to warm us
winter wind to warn us
and darkness out of doors.

Gently time unfurled us
the snapping birch encouraged us
An owl flew o’er the moors.

Our quiet cabin held us
no single soul beheld us
and distant were the wars.

No sinful sword would find us
nor scrying spell divine us
how loud our rival roars.

For our other’s love does bind us
and life begins inside us
her infant spirit soars.
Clinton Arneson Jul 2014
boldly blasting, breaking branches, birch
beneath boughs, boots bruising blackberry brambles,
bashing buried boulders,

she shot;
sundering scarlet sumac screens,
seeking secret solitude,
silent safety,
Yet another challenge from a friend
Jun 2014 · 1.7k
Ode to Cleavage
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Sly, shy shadow,
capturing attention,
photons fail,
within delicious

Indicating ably,
though quite indirectly,
amply, firmly, softly,
lovely, young fecundity
Jun 2014 · 444
Writer Defends Grammar
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
I am a writer.

Words are my life.

I am an autodidactic logophile.

I can not help

but practice my passion

and seek to avenge my passion defiled.
Jun 2014 · 414
Stolen Butter Knives
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Scraping, scratching sparks
Spinning stone sings;
She sharpens shivs
of what once
were peaceful things.
Jun 2014 · 346
Sara's Poem
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
She is a sassy fair;
She is a spicy rare;
She is confidence austere;
And knows this minus mirror.

She's lovely, true, in form;
Her kindness, precious, warm;
Quite apart from norm;
Her beauty, within, born
For mah buddy Sara
Jun 2014 · 1.4k
Ode to my Waitress
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Sailing expensive fried food,
'cross awful carpets so crude,
A bright sunny strong attitude,
This lovely young Lady's fine mood...

And customers, often quite rude,
Dummies that drag in their brood,
Scrooges and harlots half ****,
Still can not drag down her mood.

For this is not where she will stay
This will be, soon, yesterday
She is her own sunshine ray
She plans her own life her own way

Studying hard every night
To strengthen her mind she will fight,
Managing well, money tight,
From her might, to height, and the light.
She's cool
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Blazing bold bravery,
******* catechism;
A girl stands strongly alone;
Her life, society’s atavism.

Quick quiet quelling,
Demonic agapism;
A girl and her sword stay unknown;
Her dreams are those of meliorism.

All acts agathusia,
Concomitant heroism;
A girl who will **** to atone;
Her objectives and body in schism.

Hard headed heartfelt,
Quick with an aphorism;
A woman searching for home;
Her true enemy nihilism.
This... weird... thing... was the result of Anh Huynh's challenge. Check out her stuff!
Jun 2014 · 475
Who Would You Ship Me With?
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
'Whomever thou hast chosen, freely, happily;
for if, in choosing wisely thus, surely thou shalt see ~
the loveliest of babies fair, are not from mere beauty;
the loveliest of babies fair, arise from harmony"
For a gal who is cool
Jun 2014 · 606
My Gal Buddy
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
I bear a friendship rare ~
to a gal neat-o and fair ~
And to what might I compare,
Her preponderance of flair?

“To diamond!” thought I keen ~
But no; for I had seen ~
Squished carbon? How obscene.
My friend is Astatine
She mah buddy
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Winter window, shivering
Midnight moonlight, withering
Beneath impending cloud ~

The frozen plain, before her
The freezing pane, ignores her
The moonlight slips her shroud ~

The life, she thought abandoned,
The choice, she had no hand in,
A necklace keeps her proud ~

To choose to fail while trying,
To choose a freezing dying,
To die with head unbowed ~

But maybe,
in the trying,
She's cause,
a few,
their dying~

Tomorrow morn, she vowed.
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Thou art, faire maid, misplacing said gratitude ~

for it is we, thine audience, enriched by thine attitude ~

We must thank thee, for services rendered ~

more beautiful currency, hast ne'er been tendered.
Cecil's a dork.
Jun 2014 · 393
My Buddy and her Glasses
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Suddenly, once lovely,
Becomes so beautiful ~
Suddenly, from pretty,
Gorgeous rendered whole.

The light within her eyes
Had neither waxed nor waned ~
It simply shines more clearly
When absent of her frames.
For Arlette
Jun 2014 · 361
How it Should be
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
It would be sweet to **** a dragon~
and save a princess fair~
Riding by the monster's corpse~
smoke drifting from my hair~

To cut the ropes that held her~
snugly to the pole~
and not to find her satisfied~
as a living goal~

To see her nod her thank you~
and turn from me to find~
within the dragon's treasures~
a great big axe to grind~

To see her sift through armors~
of knights the dragon dined~
To see her eyes light up upon~
a set that suits her fine~

And then to bid me forward~
And as her partner I obey~
To render her assistance~
In other dragons for to slay~
Ah, this one speaks for itself, lol
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014, calm feeling,
of stone walls yielding,
to pressures gentle in my mind;

this allowing for,
such immoral lore,
which all my training calls a crime;

and should it prove at last,
a hard, restrictive cast,
for bones which never tore…

Then criminal, perhaps.
But careful thought as lapse?

Then what is this law for?
My character writes a poem about the cracks he has discovered in the edifice of his institutionalized racism.
Jun 2014 · 2.7k
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
The wildflower… bred by no one, uncultivated;
raised hard, raised rough.
No glass pane to shield you, nor tender hand revealed you,
standing all the sweeter ‘gainst the grass.
There may be some the fairer,
though none so brave to dare her,
wild, wild flower in the wind.
Love poem by one of my characters, to another of my characters. His first to her. lol
Jun 2014 · 403
Cecil and Marbet
Clinton Arneson Jun 2014
Splendid leaves, all a swirl, spindly, wheeling, driving, curl,
Amid the woods, the leaves unfurl; there stands a wild, happy girl.

No ornament, goal, or mere décor; undomesticated; poor,
Weapons wet with demon gore, stirring, bracing, running, roar.

Sweet, and kind, her sharpened mind; on shelves of books her eyes have dined,
Soothing anger, knots unwind; stinging, stabbing heart resigned.

Born away, aloft, on high; suds and laughs, the fiddler’s sigh,
What’s that, my dear? Of course, I’ll buy; or bake me in a mincemeat pie.

Night and chill, the moon’s dark air, a wind that draws her close ~ I stare,
The woman sighs away our care; upon her lips mine own then dare.
Love poem written by one of my characters... lol, to another one of my characters.

— The End —