Archive for October, 2011

Final Gesture

I was six

playing alone

on Granny’s farm

across rolling fields

stretching endlessly

into a North Carolina beyond.

I was picking daisies

and wild berries for jam preserve,

when I was struck

by a chestnut mound

ahead of me in a grassy curve.

I knew enough about stillness

not to have to be told death.

My grandparents’ plow horse,

Teddy, lay there, sprawled,

in morbid quiet beauty,

his bulk still warm and regal,

bugs buzzing over glazed brown eyes,

close to the earth he once so diligently plowed,

and now he eloquently surrendered, bowed ~

his final gesture.

I cried all the way home

skipping over creek beds,

dangerous stones,

falling in granny’s waiting

arms; granddaddy came

running too to hear my news.

As granny later wiped my tears,

she told me Teddy had been

their priceless draft horse for

twenty-two years.

Now it was time for him to

fertilize back the Earth he once

tendered with docile, loyal toil.

And, because I was only six,

believing grandma when she

said he went back into the Earth

to fertilize,

I went back to wait, to watch,

for him to grow back to us.

~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf


Posted: October 28, 2011 in Poet; Writer; Author


A lesser light would come along

power out an aura’s prism array

too close to the beam to comprehend

emit beacons of  melancholy brilliance

exploding atoms of static white noise

songs make warped history bleed

in octave waves of splintered dreams

like terrible storms through fragile leaves

balance suffers with wounded poise

leaving behind crippled vibration

a wolf’s silence in Arctic stillness

forever imprints mankind’s evil distillation

fragments litter a withered path

glory has its moment of silent ooze

when all it loved failed to embrace

(merely squeezed)

blood has its geyser sky to fall

laughing angels hear not the prayers to appease

frail voices seek their ghostly throats

in cauterized moments of singular terror,

cut short from dismembered screams.

Awaken me in twilight, cotton dust

across channels of crimson whispers

melt pain of embers weeping

enmesh all fear into viable trust

when all is lost to devoted keep

safeguard nostalgia from oblivion’s

eternal sleep

let me forever reminiscence

words that pinpricked my Soul

dancing firelight of fainted lust

scrape wounds of infant fire

softly reconnect severed momentum,

expel the hidden, shy desire ~

left there, feather-deep.

A lesser light would come along

close my eyes to blindness’ own

forsake wonder to stretching darkness

shun the crave of Earth’s immortal bitterness

bend of rivers shallow and care less

out from ruins of wavering emptiness

peaks of Mountain once left to Eagle eyes

I will know I finally came home

when sadness turns to infinite bliss

when to appreciate that which

I can no longer ache, though cast alone

for as memory dies ~ so I have also come

to stare in the face of God, his own

immeasurable radiance to kiss.

~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf

Tortured Light

Posted: October 28, 2011 in Poet; Writer; Author

Tortured Light

This light wavers, bends

emanates from fading spectrums

inside grieving, lifeless winds.

It spoke once, a voice of dance and songs,

brightness left to diminishing wince

now where silence belongs.

It felt once, a passion ocean deep,

left to embers burning, whirling

into cries that cannot weep.

It saw once, the rays of subtle

paradise, now blinded by the

ebony folds that hold it in its vice.

It knew its brilliance once,

captured rainbows for a while,

this tortured light God wanted back

so Heaven could see it’s smile.

~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf


Residue of rage

Infringed voices swirl a caustic drum

Tunneling through my collapsing veins

On the outside of my body

Other damage significantly done

Streets crack their footing

Lamp lights flicker in tenor drifts

And across a mass escape of lawn,

I feel the puncture beyond emerald green

Grasses swaying in crippled bend

Severed tips of fragile stalks

Join my tears in fractured, limping wind.

Nothing is spared ~ not the sky

Forming nimbus clouds above my hair

As hate sings across the air from your spitting lips

Attempt to dismember my field enchantments

And my love of wild and sea!

Anger was one thing contained within

the vortex of your heart ~

But not when it came alive to devour me . . .

I was never afraid to die . . .

What more cold could I feel

As your embraces have left me,

Corpse-ready, and unfeeling

Being loved by you: a ghost of a man?

For your hands were never gentle,

Nor your passion at its crimson peak ~

How I have bled from your touch that

Was meant to cradle, but instead

Crushed my essence, beyond bland?

Look away, as I fly above, higher and higher,

Soaring summits that call, with little regret

Leaving you forever bereft

You that loved my embers, not my fire,

I feel the puncture beyond emerald green

Grasses that caught me air born and stinging,

And all of me that you threw ~

         What of me was left . . .

~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf

Language of Moon

Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

Language of Moon


There exist pieces of

remnant, lost twilight

forgettable echelons

of ancient stars

where voices unfurled

inside silvery wolves

mysteries left hidden

never ours to find.


We reached out, not

out of basic need,

but more from wanton greed;

dreamt what we knew

we could never hold onto;

still never to grasp

the language of moon.


How can you pride

on this dance living forever

flowers suspended in

uninterrupted bloom

poems written by themselves

across parchments of heart;

songs sung without passion’s lips,

or chords bleeding without

Violins casting tenor croon

still never to hear

the language of moon.


Do you crash yourself

against a garden of stones

spill sedimentary sadness

silt-deep with granular tones

listen to erosion turning

beyond mortal bones

return to dust at death’s marble door

still never breaking through

          the language of moon.


Man is jealous of this world

how it evolved long before us

and shall go on, long after we’re gone

even for one moment in utter stillness

it just is; and doesn’t need us,

what our dreams can’t forget

is what it chose not to remember.


Never were we the aching flow

of a river’s wounded current,

nor could we predict the storm

in a prairie wind’s restless eye.


All we ever were was tiny seedlings

caught in throats of ivory seagulls

warped cries fading on salty gulf breezes

seeking distances never meant to reach;


vines growing wild, out of control

from motherless roots;

shells shimmering like pearled-jewels

the ocean gave up and spit back upon

an orphaned beach~


A silent cloud passed by once,

long ago, in a sonnet rain,

in the cry of a loon,

inside buffalo echoes,

tried to explain

to passing deaf shadows

to blind eyes of hearts

that closed all too soon~

and no one, nothing, heard

          the language of moon.



~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf


Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,



Smile upon this ancient River ~

its cool waters have felt

your sinew writhe;

twisted from shadowed-angles

of shared and molded ache.

In dreams, it cradles trembling blood.

Forever it has wept at your flowing side.


Your tongue has crossed many

severed Moons; tasted parched

wastelands left to linger

from tumbled regret ~

how you pierced the edges of

screaming thirst, content

only by what was mirrored

in its own discharged reflect.


Do you tire from mastering feats

of endless fear or infinite despair

when all that’s revealed in the end

is its minuscule singular memory

matching none other than my

mortal own ablaze in

unheroic air?


Plant feet deep into this path!

We have traveled identical

forks in sweeping dust;

listened to echoes warning us

that as friends, we cannot touch ~

yet as inseparable Soul Mates,

so shall our words timelessly

intermingle in some distant

beyond, gently caressed.


Love we have not known nor felt

its vibrant sting for any other ~

it doesn’t seem fair

until we stop in lonely pause long

enough to realize how truly blessed

and gifted we are!


Kneel before the unyielding wind

that bows not to invisible definition;

feel how we are at once defined

by another’s forgotten hunger ~

broken entities that miraculously mend

because both were swept beneath

the other’s fading storm within.


Embrace God-giving Light

it is, after all, what gave all Darkness hope

and where radiance first became its

own forgiving yet terrible abyss ~

why us, why us, we wonder still with

swollen grief,  shattered illusions

peeking through the shy mist:



Do we dare now to question

the mighty Heavens

or the burning Hells

that contain the wisdom

of all our fractures?







~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf


Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized





There is a band of

armor, impenetrable ~

stronger than bronze, steel.


That armor is my friendship,

bullet-proof, infantry-real

comes in a myriad of tones

borne of unconditional love;

my bones.


Go out into the world

adorn me in thought

disrobe me at need.

I am tougher than leather, deer hide;

yet fragile enough to bleed.


Wars will be waged, so cruel

battles you will choose

my aura shall always protect you ~

in my eyes, you never lose.


Harness this fact ~

new battlefields await you,

soldiers who don’t fight fair.


Yet they cannot win.

They don’t possess what

greatness you wear!


Let this be your song:


They can stab all day long

into your armor,

this friendship does not

give up, or die easily ~

in fact, it swings back, strong!


You can’t go wrong.

This armor shields you head to toe,

you walk in victory, always;

in my Soul.




~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf

Painting God

Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized

Painting God


In my mind,

I have seen him many times,

an impregnable force

white like gossamer

wisps of intangible clouds

invisible as fractal wind.

Felt in the Soul of bones.

Always his face would elude

me ~ was it human, animal,

a fusion trace of both and

everything in-between?

So I would draw eyes that

penetrated beyond soft canvas light,

outside of chalk-hewn remains,

into a mortal world that he created

within a blink of his unparalleled own.

Staring back, something was terribly

wrong, captured incongruently,

and that hurt as long as the

brush trembled in my unforgiven hand;

is this something I could so easily forget?

He was the paper, the oozing paint,

the splash of glossy oil

in an azure asymmetry of amateur sky.

Painting God was remembering

he was as much the shades that

blended and separated

as he was and always would be

the colors that stood still,

            and waiting . . .






~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf


Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,



I was jealous of

the guitar,

your fingers stroked the strings,

made beautiful sounds,

made others cry.


I was jealous of

your coffee,

your lips paused over the cup

dreamily, you swallowed so sexually,

delighted in each drop.


I was jealous of

your shower, beads

of water saturating each

inch of your steel body,

glistening in perfect solitude.


I was jealous of

your sheets, how they

wrapped you each night,

you left your scent there,

there you felt safe.


I could go on, the

silly musings of a young girl

with a stupid crush,

I’m too young for this.


I hand in my Essay after

class.  It’s about Moving On,

letting go of things we’ll never have.


Research taught me nothing.




~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf

From a Flower’s Perspective

Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized

From a Flower’s Perspective


Wind tossing.


  Evolved under Harvest Moon.

Dressed the virgin dawn

  with the petal spills

of my silent bloom,

  from such singular awakening . . .


I am soft-Fuchsia in my


  that ended its Song to

possessive Bees.


What looks upon me

  is a Child who

stops to study

the folds of velvet enwrapping

  me . . .


  He touches lightly, at first

then I am ripped from my roots

and see not his face


  wince at the Sweet fragrance of

my Death.



~ ~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf