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Best Poems Written by Clifford Dehaven

Below are the all-time best Clifford Dehaven poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Clifford Dehaven Poem

Daughter of Loneliness

Oh! daughter of loneliness
worshiper of horus
though quite unaware
collector of dandelions
look over here then
double chins on racehorses!
that slight stain on your two fingers
story of cigarette hungers
and nicotine romances
dealt with in shadow quietly
no fierce gazes now from church ladies
magnificent in their clucking bow
processing the dirt at your feet
lest your sins discolor the very ground
of your precious precious little town

Oh! daughter of the earth
collector of dandelions
rush of cicada wings
trembling, quickening
at your approach
my proud back collapses
a new S shape coils
vertabraeic tribute then
I will paw at the dirt
your proud mother
our shared ancestor then
keeper of the dead
drifts through my fingers
the tribute of the soil

Nothing here to keep
the servants are onto something
that shiny image you have of me
a flaking wedge of cake
in your mind, now grown stale
nibbled at slowly by the scuffling teeth
of doubt, of fear, of the nakedness of faith
a spectral rodent drifts in and out
he is made of uselessness and has no point
and scurries about on errands
please, swallow whole that cake
release that sobbing doppelganger
from that mindful prison of time
lest your sins discolor the very ground
of your precious precious little town

Details | Clifford Dehaven Poem

To Grow Old

I am going to grow old 
suddenly.
it will happen one day 
while eating peanut butter 
worrying about a lie I told 
thirty-seven years ago 
wondering whatever happened 
to that one special girl 
absently watching but not 
comprehending 
some old blurry 
near-memorized 
perry mason 
episodes 
while Oppenheimer's 
borrowed eyes conceal
a black and white mind 
become a hummingbird now 
but not a regular hummingbird 
instead a drunken listless 
embarrassed spastic wreck 
of a dark hummingbird
bouncing off walls 
spitting and
cursing 
 
 
I am going to grow old 
suddenly.
it will happen one day 
the moon appearing
and disappearing
only my ancestors 
may count these seasons 
this empty coliseum
now lacking 
a hero
or crowd 
the dust in his teeth
reminds him
that the christians
and the lions
left together long ago
their memories
and yours
like fiery 
tumbleweeds
for the
prairie
mind


I am going to grow old 
suddenly.
it will happen one day 
a hardly remembered
mummy
with crown of white hair
the boot-heel king
old briar
blissfully unaware
the fragile conspiracy 
of synapse
absently clicking through
channels
with his box full of hints
that he gave up for lent
some tobacco
and stained
flannels

 
I am going to grow old 
suddenly.
it will happen one day 
and no one will be here 
to know 
the last man on earth 
yet negotiating for space 
for the digging of holes 
for the burying of jars 
for the cataloging 
of clever treasures 
a plump endless cycle 
known only to him 
delicate old brain 
always fluttering
now folding up
the origami 
of years

Details | Clifford Dehaven Poem

Child of Night

I like being awake all night 
like I'm a secret person 
not real at all 
 
child of night, known by no one 
living underneath the earth 
negative space, living like no one 
known by no one underneath the earth 
 
here we have our own private language 
secret numbers recited on a string 
a quiet glance revealing nothing 
(a secret handshake a decoder ring) 
 
bathed in the dull blue glow of monitors 
trading exclusive bits of nowhere 
sending a silent cry along the wavelength of nothing 
we get our quiet rewards anonymously 
our secret unsuspected nation, divisible, under the ground 
 
there are so many other phantoms just like me 
I will never know them, nor will they ever know themselves 
nor will I ever know myself, there are too many echoes 
reflections, diversions, obsessions, perversions 
so many distractions in the belly of the night 
 
the day is too active too busy too motioned 
for those of the night hibernating like me 
the day is too noisy with threatening emotion 
for those of the night sensitive as can be 
 
there are trees in the forest that are falling like madmen 
and there are phantoms around listening on through the night 
so as the world revolves there are always eyes enough 
to fill the dark sky with their yearning, earnest gazing 
though answers are few, and these questions have no end 
 
I like being awake all night 
like I'm a transparent person 
thoughts rolling clean through me 
 
that velvet darkness covering my heart completely 
no sunlight should now penetrate this veil 
and the night and I suit each other so perfectly 
no division, no partition, a loveless romantic tale 
 
not responsible for all that acidic sunlight 
bleaching everyones emotions clean and sterile 
not the usual child of days, instead a deep compacted mote 
one who can understand the lush quality of the darkness 
that covers the land and covers me like sweet mercy, nightly 
 
I like being awake all night 
like I'm a starlit person 
who cannot keep the day

Details | Clifford Dehaven Poem

While Walking This Morning

While walking this morning
it suddenly occurred to me
that perhaps I wasn't moving at all.
That somehow instead
my feet were rotating the world beneath me
and I was actually pinned stock still
held in place and waiting 
firm in my position like the stars themselves.
 
I experimented a bit and kicked backwards
and sure enough the whole world responded
moving away from me and rolling forward.
And it was then I realized
that if I only had a proper map
I could spin the world around
in the just right combination
that would cause you to appear.
 
Or perhaps like these old constellations
I had become a fixed point reference
that you could use to navigate
and finally find me waiting patiently for you, 
kicking my toe into the dirt
and causing the world to shudder.

Details | Clifford Dehaven Poem

Spiral

our 
unique spiral
innocent on all counts
heavily invested in yesterdays
still to be found with our begging bowls
panhandling for more time or more attention
or for anything washed to us along this stream
this sediment forever settling amongst these rocks
depositing history gently, unrecognized by most
descending like that constant silent snowfall
unseen still yet forever landing all around 
blanketing our every breath and moment
sensed at last only marking 
just the fragile memory
of our hungry 
lives

Details | Clifford Dehaven Poem

Casaba

if only I knew your name
perhaps I could call out to you
like that rain calls out to me
just before falling
the sound of the elderly
quiet ancestors gently setting down
easy chairs and old heaters
the hissing sound of the endless highway
with headlights always disappearing
just out of reach like love
or happiness or other myths
quietly whispered in sleeping bags
when you were eleven 
and the whole world had opened
before you like a ripe casaba
like the sound of your name
if only I knew your secret
perhaps I could call out to you
and you would call out to me
just before falling

Details | Clifford Dehaven Poem

Trees

I've done things, to not be broken.
Successful till now.
Pruned entire branches
from my tree of life.
Had these others bent back
by the callous, thoughtless passerby.
Looked away for a moment from the bloom,
now nothing but empty sticks remain.
Dead thought leaves litter the earth
all around my life.

Ramose still
but newly cleaved by lightning
into two sovereign things.
At last the realization dawns
That what I called roots
was the real tree.
That what I called tree
were roots flailing about wildly
up in the air for all to see.
 
And here
immersed deep in this neutral ground
I can feel the presence of others.
Same weary mistake as me.
Below the level of the earth,
inverted.
Waiting for Spring.