The Poetry of Claiborne Walsh New Real Audio Reading of ASHES About Claiborne Schley Walsh Claiborne has lived in New Orleans, Louisiana; Savannah, Georgia; and traveled throughout the world. Co-Author and illustrator of "101 Ways To Know If You're A Mobilian", included by invitation to the anthology "Red Bluff Review", and winner of poetry competitions, Claibie has had public readings at the Southern Lights Coffee House, Barnes and Noble, Books A Million, private parties and gatherings. Artist, Sculptress, Illustrator, Writer of prose, short stories, and poetry, she has been compared to Tolkein, Angelou, Whitman, Dorothy Parker. She has participated in fund raisers for charity and the arts. Her original works can be found in the collections of Steve Allen, Larry Linville, LaWanda Page, Robert Colbert, George Foreman. Her email address is Claibie@aol.com The Evolution of Cinderella Parts Ones - Four First Blush - Part One  Finding you, Seeing that you lacked The verdant eyes of possession, I fell in love We danced We parted Each going our separate ways In this delicate dance Yet, by so doing You won my loyalty The Young Wife - Part Two Brilliant in blushing bride's white My eyes alive with my ideas of future promised, I walked that well-worn tiled aisle Little did I realize You had ideas of your own With which you had grown That did not involve me or my participation How easily you slipped away from inexperienced hands and mind to your manworld Living learned rules Presupposing that I would fit into the robes you knew The glass slipper cracked and I stepped away from the castle To dreams built with my own bricks The Mother - Part Three The gift of children, your greatest present An offering of which you never realized. I gave myself willingly to the task. Still, you remained in this kingdom of your own relegated realm unrelated to mine It was fine, for I had the ultimate life, Shaping lives, forming opinions, opening minds, teaching the learners, and they, teaching me. You inhabited the castle But your loyalty stayed with the Maledom Leaving me to do What was meant for two I fought regally and righteously Swinging broadswords of great protection for princesses and queens to be And I did well, You should have been there to see. The Later Years - Part Four The fledglings flown, I attempted to re-robe the vows I took So long ago. They still bear their colour and sparkle Only now in a different light. Thirty years has passed, The kudzu of time has covered the castle where once a princess slept. You courted a girl, You married a wife, You created a mother, and, I became a woman I abdicated your proffered throne and created a Queenship of my own Tell me, , would you care to join me in a dance? It's truly lovely here, And the choice, is mine. Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Assorted Verse "90 Pin Memory Slots" I watched the eddying currents Of my mother's whirlpool life And like a root buried in the side of a creek, I hung tenaciously To my outer world But grain by grain Like the sands in the bank My life fell away Swept into the vortex Of her rapidly dwindling waters For I found I could not Let her go There Alone Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Image I grasp the vase And feel Merely stirred Not shaken Then, I release you Blurred and fluttered Into the wind Like tiny motes You go, settling into the water's tensile grip I lean down From the gunnel To say goodbye There, To my artist's eye And amazement I behold Your smiling face One last time Until it settles Slowly Into the salinity You knew so well in the beginning Copyright 1997 Claiborne S. Walsh From Beneath The Soil To some, they are but bits and pieces Mere shards of coloured glass To me, they are a concrete sign Of life that has gone past A perfume bottle, a crystal ink well Clay marbles, and diners plates I wonder who held all these and what was their past fate And who held them before they did As years later they 're held again DNA of fingerprint Appearing once again A hammer from a flintlock gun A china basket that once held flowers A mother-of-pearl unbuttoning this plethora of powers A chandelier's crystal earring The base of a mug with words "flying" A pipe of clay, bits of cranberry glass These pieces live and keep trying To tie us to the aura and air Of silent testimony's sphere Between the invisible wall of time Of what was there, yet still here Back before TV and radio waves Before laser and light phone wires Before Instant mail and messages Back when swings were tires And barefoot children swam in creeks Endured a humid summer's heat Back when porches held summer's people Who were always calling out to greet Folks from lands, both foreign and familiar Inviting them for lemonade and sweet tea I look upon those times and smile At each difference and similarity My Living South still reaches out And extends it's gracious hand from past to present and into the future To each woman and each man Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Laying roses at your feet, O omnipotent one The Blue Rose I've touched a thousand lovers Promised little to very few Looking for the thornless rose Whose velvet petals are tinted blue I've put many petals to my lip Of lesser quality and softer hue Seeking the solace of the thornless rose Could it be the rose of blue? The thornless rose of legend with center of sapphire blue The elusive rose, the Holy Grail And it's ability to imbue Gracious graces of the muses Magic and mystery too Hidden within this thornless rose Of the deepest horizon's blue I ask "Are you the thornless rose The one of stories, is that you? The lover of the ultimate touch Whose passion is tried and true? Furtively, I put you to my lips Moistened by morning's dew Full of hopes of "At Last! I've Found The Thornless Rose of Royal Blue!" Tell me.....dare I once again ask Tell me, is it you? Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Bedroom Eyes "The Mirrors" My eyes rest Upon a bed Across a room. It's rumpled sheets, Like minature, snow laden alps, An overview of Kitzpiel. In front, A woman sits With a man Who is mirrored in her eyes, and she, in his. His lips parted, in admiration Of what he perceives to be his goddess In front of him. I look upon his face, My eyes softly align with his, And I see between thick, dark lashes... Myself, him, And a bed, With rumpled, white sheets Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh There is a Princess from the thirteenth century... buried on a hilltop in Skye. Even today, men go to that grave and fall in love. "The Nordic of Skye" The blue-eyed Nordic Princess spake "You say...You wish to be buried by me?" She looked upon him that adored her so "And...just why would I want this to be?" "Because I love your sweeping wind, Your hilltop with it's panoramic view, And, my angelic fairie Princess fair, This commoner is in love with you." "Why? From where have you come, M'Lord? What wind brings you here to my side?" "Ancient voices and bloodlines.", he said, "For they refuse to be longer denied" "The Red Hills of Scotland called out your name Told me to claim an auld priviledge To be joined in spirit, you unto me And I've traveled across road, sea and bridge" She leveled a look at him and said "You seem a fair man, bonnie blue-eyed, to be sure But do the icy fjiords pulse through those veins, And the bloodline of Scotland endure?" He took her sweet hand, softly kissed it's palm T'was a diaphanous mist his lips met Beneath a cairn on Bein na Caillich Among the airs of the Cullins, so wet He stood upon that windswept hilltop Went down to his knees on her grave Made his blood flow like the tears With the sword of one who is brave "The tales, myths and stories of Scots and the Skye Of castles, and Chieftains and Lords Of bairds, and mountains, towering wild and tall Of poets, and singers and bards" These are made up of things such as we Now, I must lie here down by your side And the ground and the grass ran red as the hills Where the commoner lay down as he died You can see the bloodied grounds still, to this day, Where the bearded lover gave up his life There among Skye, there in those hills Where a long ago Princess became as his wife Among the cairn on Beinn na Callich Where the winds of Norway kiss the tor This Princess and commoner joined by their spirits Where but one had been once before And if you listen...you can hear singing in a crystal, clear voice And him, joining a husky one with hers Echoing out over the sky, land and waters Tinged with a warm, Celtic burr Laughter and affection, merriment abounds Between these two below, and above Joined at last in forever's great heights Two bodies joined in one as found love At last she had found him, the love of her life The companion that suited her the best But seven centuries had to have passed by first Ere her spirit could find it's sweet rest For, you see...The commoner had found his Celtic roots Blue, the blood in his heritage's veins With a Princess of Norway forever his eternity And as the Ledgend of Caledonia they burned like a flame. Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh CamoMemories My nostrils hungrily suck in The bold smells of morning camp coffee Mixed with musk and old camo My eyes see visions of walking trees and bushes, The men and boys, as they ebb and flow In, out and around the cabin, Each in their own leafy pattern. The guns, open mouthed and empty chambered, Leaning here and there on the porch, Like old friends relaxing. My ears hear the sounds of high pitched yips and yaps, As the dogs excitedly spread the gospel of the woodlands To all that will listen, Of what they hope this day will bring. Each sound made by them Emitting a vaporous, smoky cloud, As if they were dragons whose fires had burned out. I watch, detached, An observer of this mass-like ritual, While preparations are made, Positions assigned. The click and slam of metal against metal echos As magazines are checked. Each man bragging on his own gun as if it were alive, And had it's own ability to imbue prowess upon them. The racing of engines begin a faster tempo of shrill barking And breaks up the clutch of camouflage. Each hunter heads towards the vechicle designated as theirs. Laughter and camaraderie, teasing and anticipation Served up on Gumbo tires, An adventurous huntress or two Scattered in amongst the thatch for good measure. The bump and jounce along the rooted, pock-marked roads Leads into the long-leafed, forrested cover beyond the camp, And, like soldiers, they are dropped off One at a time to man their posts Disappearing into the thicket Like brown, tan, and green ghosts First here, Then, silently gone Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh "Divided Life" You feel no remorse At leaving each day Your life is not split Between any roles that you play No guilt is felt At the cost of success No judgements are made You're not thought of as less But I, am a woman And my paths are many Mother, wife, child The roles? There are plenty Things I WILL be judged on Because of my gender Nothing like yours Who has no presuppositions to hinder How you are as a man Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Tejas Nude ~ Rolling, soft sands before me like a pale nude lying on her side in the sunset waiting to be patiently to be painted by Nature's lowering brush. Throughout centuries of shifting positions The faillng days never fail to rouge her contours Blushing down her generous, glasine granules ~ I wander across her body combing the tangled hair thickets or rest upon her breast laying my body against hers like a babe who wishes to be held before the night comes and steals the comfort of warmth and adoration ~ The blood of sun flushes the scene before me Alizarin And the changing blanket of purple dusk overtakes us both No water could ever quench this thirst or stay this longing ~ I touch upon a hip now made cold By nightfall and pearlesant by the rising Opal We are sung to by the nightfowl And we both sleep Claiborne Schley Walsh Copyright 1994 The Expectant Father (The Law Office Series) The eyes of a young father who aches to see his children Awaits on a morning law office porch Looking Worry etching his child-like face You can see him watching each approaching vehicle Denied legal privilege, Denied his fair share Of awarded custody He waits there for slow justice Afraid, that if he does not wait And acts upon desire alone His fears of Confinement and imprisonment will be realized He tries to play fair But no one cares about his need He also held these children Loved these children Rocked these children Parented these children Fathered these children His only crimes, Youth, inexperience His only crimes, responsibility for actions he took, And their results, These children Babies having babies, Babies playing at marriage Babies playing divorce A young father awaits....... Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Oh Foot, Thou Art Unsung Oh Foot, Thou art unsung, Yet heroic are thou's endeavors From heel To nails painted whore's red Erotic limb, Atlas of gargantuan feats Oft forgotten purveyor of life's dreams Grumbling garnisher of body's whim and wish, ~ I sing to you, Oh Foot Oh Base, of my wants and needs And offer you the soothing Cleansing, baptisimal waters Of rest. Copyright 1997, Claiborne Schley Walsh "Night Mares" ~ The horses of darkness and storm overtake me Surrounded by the choking dust that only a thousand hard hooves Striking flintlike against steel can create Diamond daggers through blackness fly, and create obsidian and fire Ruby swirled nostril's ringed with smoky breath Jostling grunts parrying rears of flight and fight Screaming whinnies and loud echoling squeals of threats ~ The earth heaves and rents and I prepare and perspire for this onslaught yet, I lay, cold and shivering hearing the increasing, swelling volume of the roar of approach Tails, Manes...windwhipped wildly Teeth bared Sweaty, wet, veins fork like lightning Protruding as if they, themselves will explode In widened sockets, their eyes roll wildly about Showing the fear of white with pink ~ I huddle down, hiding my face As, finally, I am emcompassed with their plethora of presenses and pressure of a thousand pressed bodies ~ Sudden silence ~ And the morning breaks Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Untitled #3,890 Like beggars in a third world country Or oversized children in an apocolyptic orphanage The hands at the nursing home reach out to grab, Grab at a hem, a hand, a pants leg. "Notice me! Touch me! Smile at me! Talk to me...hug me... Let me know that I am worthy of the attention I beg for even though I am barely living" "I am still here! I Live! I want...I need! Do not fear me, For, if you live long enough, YOU will BE me." Oh God, if there is indeed, a living Hell, This must be it. Full of wailing souls and waning bodies Gnashing of teeth... Like Dante's Inferno I watch their frail bodies involuntarily writhe, Tounges flail, Watching the air invaded by hands that cannot grasp reality. Open wounds, seeping As they lay sleeping, dormant, comatose.. Again, I am reminded of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and smell of death. Yet.... They live on, tubes asnarl, Bobbing heads loll backwards, sideways, down, askew Thin, elongated crystal threads of dribble and drool...slide slowly downward, Like liquid webs. My heart cries out at these inequitous iniquities While facemask's smiles of kisses and hugs Tries to cope with making Some mote of these living dead bearable In micro-seconds of awareness. Anything To stimulate ennervate A soft toy to hold, A bit of artwork to entertain, Pieces of myself... All things that disappear When they do Some sneaking away softly in the middle of the night or early dawn. IN HOC SIGNO VINCES "In the sign of the cross You will conquer!" The hell of this living by dying Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh "The GREAT Babysitter" Mom? She touched me there, she made me watch I did not know that it was wrong Mom? Don't cry, don't turn away and hide I'm little fella and not so strong Mom? I need you more than ever before To defend and strike a blow for me Mom, She told me not to tell the secret Or you'd be so mad and angry Momma, She made me do some things I'd never done before Mom? I swear, I did not know any better Can you love me anymore? Mom, I'm just your baby child I didn't mean to make you cry Mom, please help me understand Just what I've done, and why Momma, I need your protecting hug Please tell me I'm alright Tell me it's okay what I did Help me make it through tonight Mommy, I love you, thank you so much For holding me tight in your arms again I feel so safe here within your arms Like you're my Momma-forever friend Mom? I was so afraid of losing you I was so afraid to tell But Mom, Now I can face anything  in life Knowing you love me so much and so very well. Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Piscado de Azul y Plata Down in Amethyst Ocean arises Through water's surface tension burst The magnificent Sapphire Sailfish Walking blue waters tail first Exploding like a thousand diamonds Rising up through ocean's swells Flinging his body left and right Slamming the water again as he fell "He's still on!" They yelled. I belted in the chair And let him run with line The spool fairly smoked with his blazing speed I sat alert and awaited a sign Of his tiring,or slowing, a lessening of speed But I knew the hook was set So I increased the drag slightly and hoped for the best And again awaited a place where I could get To where I could begin to pump and reel To fight this worthy foe Like Papa himself, I would not let the crew help This was between he and I only ..no more He rose repeatedly trying to throw This bothersome teaser and line But I hung tough and stayed in there with him Time after time after time I was hot and sweaty, solemn and determined But he was just as determined to win For he longed for the murky mysteries of his home Of the freedom of the depths he lived within I leaned back and reeled, leaned forward and pumped Then, he would make another run Our greatest efforts tired and strained us both This was not a like a 'game' meant for fun Finally, I brought him alongside our craft He was so beautiful I gasped "Tag and release", I told the crew The Mexicans looked at me and laughed "You want we should release this fish???" They asked with mouths aghast "Yes, I said, "Cut him loose, let him go. Today will not be his last!!" "But Senora!!" "No buts!" I yelled "Get the hook out and let him go" A crewman grabbed him by his bill "But he es beauutiful" he said. I said ,"I know." "I fought him fair with naught but mind and muscle He gave me his best today I want him returned to where he is king." Then he was cut  and released to swim away. I have the photos of that afternoon In the Pacific off Alcapulco Of me and that mighty Sailfish grand Down off the coast of Southern Mexico But I remember in my head I don't need any  photograph Of that wonderful day of amethyst swells Not so far back in the past. Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Autumn's Passages The rolling ballbearing sounds of Fall's cicadas reverberate like steel marbles and echo throughout this Fall morning from tree to tree singing a song only they understand at the ending of a season Side-slipping beneath a branch I find my well worn path to my secret sanctum where Jays and Mockingbirds sing choruses of cantadas within this cantilevered cacoon of branch and bush. This place where the winding brook undulates in it's own rippled rythmn and leaves the patterns of it's passing in it's soft bed of sand and clay. I hum an almost forgotten song from my youth and sit, rocking upon a chair stump carved out for me in this tiny cathederal. I have brought my meager offerings to the deep wood's denizens and distribute corn kernel communion where it may be easily discovered without fear of my closeness. The unbeaten path, hard to find, this out-of-the-way gloriousness surrounded by the easy everyday. Possessing the curiosity of a child, I prod beneath the leaves, sticks, rocks, moss and lichen but carefully so as not to disturb the sleepy residents I find hiding there, then replace each one. Sorrowfully, yet recharged, I know that time rules a larger universe and I make my way back to the road that leads to the house to join mankind for another day. Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Suede Seems strange and lonely without my "ole gal" around to greet me. As I pull down the road that leads to my house, there is no brown gal, ears perked, just waiting to escort me with her tail waving like a metronome, into my driveway. No eager-eyed, tongue-lolling head, peeking in the car door telling me all about er day. She could barely contain herself, often sticking her nose in and forcing the door the rest of the way open. No soft, brown, head trustingly put into my lap, looking to be stroked, talked to, and patted. She was never a moment's trouble, this one. From the morning I delivered her, wet and shining, into this world, to the end. Never sickly, she was the perfect friend and companion; gracious, friendly, well-mannered, behaved, amusing. You could take her anywhere and she was always welcomed back. There was never, however, a question who her ''person'' was. I was privileged to know her and have her company for over twelve years. I knew when I saw her that morning, laying on her side in the morning's sun, that this was the day I had long dreaded. The decision made, I told no one. I let them leave and then, she and I took our last walk through the woods along the pond, one last walk on our beach, one last just sitting and talking, ear rub, one last tummy scratch. I loaded her in the car and drove her around the area. Around the town, as she loved to do and took her to see and visit all her old, favorite haunts. She had jumped in the car willingly and, when it was time, she entered the Vet's office at my side with no leash (she rarely ever needed one). Once in, she went from room to room and visited with each person; the receptionist, the Doc's assistants, every last one. They all knew her and loved her too. As I watched, tears streaming down all our faces, Albert, our Vet, looked at her and slowly shook his head. He also knew her well and did not relish what he had to do. She was greatly distended and retaining fluid, her breathing was tremendously labored with each breath. Suffering from kidney failure, heart failure, she still rose the the heights of the great lady she was with graciousness. She had given me her best. I could not allow her to suffer any longer. In the examination room, the Doc gently lifted her upon the table. He had even put a blanket on it for her. I asked quietly if he minded if I stayed with her, and he replied just a quietly that he had thought that I would. he wagged her tail, licked Albert's hand, and looked as us both with those wonderfully wise, caramel brown eyes, as if to say it was okay. Then, Albert took the syringe and injected her in her right, front leg. She flinched just for a second and then melted away softly, and it was done. Twelve years of unquestioning ove and devotion, friendship...gone in seconds. My Friend, my confidant, my puppy, slipped quietly, peacefully and quickly away forever. The Doc left us there, just she and I, there in that quiet room, doors closed. I cradled that sweet head that I had held so often. I tenderly stroked that soft, brown fur....so warm, so soft. Yes, even in the end, she was a great lady, and I will miss her in the space of silence and time she leaves behind. Her grace and countenance, her face, er joie de vivre, and my love for her will never be forgotten. Post Script: three days later, a friend of mine from Houston phoned me, He had no dea of what had happened, nor was there anyway he could have known. He told me, he had had a dream. In this dream, A woman came to him with brown hair, and brown eyes, and told him that I was a nice person, that she would miss me, and that all was okay. He told me that this woman spoke in five lanugages. (the strange thing being...is that Suede "spoke" in five languages...by that, I mean when given the command to "speak"...in French, in Spanish, in English, in German, and in Yiddish... she would comply.) I do not know if there is an afterlife for dogs, don't know that I believe it now, but I do know that after hearing this, my mind seemed to slip into an easy peace and If there is a heaven for dogs, I feel that my Suede is there . Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh TinkerBelle Dragonflies ~ Tinkerbelle dragonflies on glassine'd wings Windhover and whisper of journey'd flings Of real Disney dreams and navy napped nights Starlight carpeted skies, and midnight flights ~ Of fantasy'd places, fantastic sights Ribbons of visions of faraway lights ~ They glimmer and shimmer, flying about And mouth silent words to me, "Come on out! Come on out!" Fling away restraints, leave the behind the big, city." Like fairies they seem to flit, so delicately pretty ~ Among the moor, the marsh and the reeds Gracing the tip of flower and weed "Come away! Come away!" they beckon, they call They tease my pysche knowing I can't leave at all ~ But my mind can become as the dragonflies And whisk among dreams as the minutes go by It soars to the heavens and takes me away From the confines of work, grinding along day by day ~ Oh magical moments granted by these Dragonflies and myself in silent conspiracies Stealing my mind, lifting my heart Gliding beneath arms of this oak carressed park Copyright 1997 Claiborne Schley Walsh Topanga At mile marker five Headed up Topanga's road Towards Woodland Hills An Ancient Indian's head bode Shaped from the natural rock Overlooking Topanga Canyon A tree grew within his eye The cliff was his companion "Stop", I heard him say to me "Come, and take a look. Stand beside me here and see What my forebears forsook. A place where there is buried All our warriors and our dead Feel the strength of us For still we do enthread These mountains with our essence The presence of our past Interwoven within this valley Forever here to last I am it's only sentinel Set aside in stone Watching all who come and go As I sit quietly here alone Overseeing our long past graves Our sacred, holy ground Steadfast, silent, solid, stoic Staring here profound Stop and caress my rocky cheek Hear our voices long kept silent While I reveal the ghosts of this place Untamed, unbowed, defiant Pride and arrogance unbroken Undaunted here in death Hear the music, see our dance Though we no longer draw a breath So, I sat beside him there And stayed for what was hours Soaking up all these energies Amazed at all these powers "I must leave you now.", I sighed "And I shall miss your craggy face But I shall write of you and tell Of this most uncommon place." Copyright 1994 Claiborne Schley Walsh "Two Sense Symphony" The music followed the outlined edges Of the summer's clouds today Classically following Cumulus kettle's swells With rumbling flourishes along the way Rising to a might crescendo Trailing to a harp's note Cirrus whisp Rolling around in heavenly sounds A rest, then notes, both sharp and crisp Echoing, roiling, heart-swelling music From Fugue to playing sheet free These symphonic sounds in seams of summer's clouds Viewed in awe, and heard only by me Copyright 1997, Claiborne Schley Walsh Link Pages to friends