Raven and More


Just a quick post here-I’m feeling an October surge or rush today. Actually, I want the younger ones to read two poems, one by me titled “Plot” and another by the famous, now dead, Edgar Allan Poe! His is titled “The Raven-Nevermore” and if you think you are going crazy as a freshman in college or life has you feeling out of sorts, well, read his poem and you’ll feel sane. I think.

Thanks for following me and more to come in October.

The Plot

“There’s somethin’ ‘bout these cemetery plots,” he said.
We ventured, like it or not, no longer tots, a folly she read.

What an idea dared on a dismal black-chilled Halloween night!
My friend’s sister I never met sought thrills of Frankenstein fright.

Clouds raced by luminous and white, night sky filled with ghosts
The wind kicked in, howling, seriously it scared me the most.

Dead leaves wet on the grass, all the way to the back we ran.

“Why?” I bothered to ask.

“Farther away,” he said shaking, “from the caretaker man.”

Out of breath, I stared at the raven atop the towering grey stone.
Silent. Statured. I gasped, tightly clenching my pocketed phone.

“Thought your sister was meeting us tonight?” I asked. “Here.”
“Here,” he moaned. The blackbird stirred igniting frenzy and fear.

His beak haunted me while black eyes loomed an ominous presence.
My heart raced and mind panicked remembering the fluted fence.

Then I traced my friend’s line of vision as his eyes grew in size.

“Boo!” She screamed and jumped from behind the plot and stone.
Laughing hysterically as my heart emptied a sudden surprise.

By Caroline Clemens


The Raven (Nevermore)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

By Edgar Allan Poe

From Google-Public Domain





Interview With WILDsound Festival


1) What is the theme of your poem?

My poem Monet is based upon the artist from France. He probably is one of the most recognizable names from the Impressionistic period centering on Paris. He painted the water lily painting and gave it to France. Apparently the painting is tremendous in size (it covers walls) and took some time. I found similarities in myself and what he accomplished, obviously on a much lesser known scale.

2) How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

I would like them to know and feel that these artists are regular people, like us, who express themselves in what they do. They don’t see it as work but really a function of themselves, therefore, we can all benefit and connect to them. Maybe we can learn to express ourselves in some small way or at least feel better by liking some of their work. I would like them to pretend they are walking in a garden of long ago and meeting a man who became known for his work. In some small way one would feel privileged to meet this man and find out about him. I’d like them to find out if they identify with him in some way. I’d like them to find a purpose in their own lives like he had purpose.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I wrote quite a bit of poetry a few years ago and plan on doing so again. It inspired me to write a novel. However, I wrote a poem when I was about twenty and gave it to my grandmother. It has since been lost but I thought it quite good. Then I wrote a poem about my sister for a party. It was a tribute to her and I suppose it showed my love for her. I never considered myself a poet because I couldn’t even remember words from a song, only that I liked the song. Now much later in life I have this ability to write lines in the morning. They form quite naturally. If I don’t get up and write them down, they are lost.

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

Edgar Allan Poe. Not because he wrote dark poems and such but because my Dad recited his words to me over and over. My Dad could remember lines on and on. I found this fascinating. I feel underprivileged because my school didn’t offer Literature to me as an English class in high school. I never found out about these greats until later in life. What suffering had I?

5) What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

Twitter and WordPress. The cost was low and it sounded intriguing. I do suppose it is like a mini production. Fun.

6) Do you write other works? Scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I have written a novel (trilogy) and published it to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords. I would like to try short stories and possibly a script. I think I’d prefer if someone wrote my script for me. I believe at this point I could polish a script of mine, but write it I’m not sure.

7) What is your passion in life? My passion?

Drinks coffee, scratches temple, hmm. My children. However, I’m going up the escalator now and going higher for some goodness for myself. Things come to those who wait and I feel gratified having given my time and energy to my children. Things to come such as more writing, playing golf, a bit of travel, the sea, wine, architecture (I almost became one of these), and children. Also, I want to get back that nostalgic feeling about Christmas as I lost it awhile back. I’m always searching and learning.

Caroline Clemens Interview

YouTube Video by WILDsound

May-June Newsletter


Good Morning!

Today is a celebration as my twin girls graduate high school. Yes! Awesome, I know. Their last two years they did alternative high school, in that one home schooled and the other went to an academy for half a day, all online. Both are progressives moves. Where do they get that from I wonder? It was their own choice and I applauded it. Occasionally, it was difficult with teachers and administrators communications but we worked on it. Both are headed to community colleges, and will pursue four year degrees, possibly in healthcare. I warned them how hard nurses must work with all kinds of hours and holidays and no lunch breaks. But I also gave them hope and told them of great rewards. Bright futures are what I hope for all our June graduates. Good luck!

I’ve been very busy with writing and spring cleaning. The most fun though was launching my store on Zazzle.com. It’s called TheIvoryTide. Until I work out any kinks or get a logo or obtain my very own place, I’ll operate off of Zazzle. I will do two collections a year by designing items and clothing from my photography. They package and ship, and hopefully, I’ll make a little $$$. My palm tree photo and silver sea photo were the spring/summer highlights. Check it out. You can order the little notebook below.



In early May I attended the Atlanta Writer’s Conference, and pitched my story Chocolate for Lilly to no avail. I love the conference and I met a couple other lady writers but I won’t fool ya, it’s depressing and I keep going back for more. I must lift myself, take the criticism (they all have different viewpoints you don’t know what is right or wrong), and move along, do my own thing. George Weinstein does a fabulous job and the meeting is very professional. It’s 1st class. Like I said, maybe I need to stop going (I’ve been to four now). Maybe I’ll never get readers; maybe I will. The people that have read my books have liked them. I’ll take that. I’ve written an essay on politics and social media and will submit this. Maiden Voyage, a Lighthouse Tale is a short story already submitted. It’s a little gem in my book but probably needs more editing to fine tune the tale. I have another short about nightcrawlers-who would write anything about worms?

Atlanta Writer’s Conference

Chocolate for Lilly Query

This historical novel of fiction set in the jazz era of the 1920’s, prohibition, women’s suffrage, post war and the attraction of two souls, is intended for adults. Think The Great Gatsby meets Little Orphan Annie by way of Murder on the Orient Express. 

It’s 1919 and women’s lives are about to change, but before Emmaline can figure out that future she must find her sister that she never knew she had. Robert has just finished his college studies and already has a sizeable portfolio noting his inventions. These childhood friends meet up at the perfect moment in time, and decide to help one another setting off on an adventure only the spirited would undertake. Pretending to be married they board the train from New York City, and first up is the idyllic setting of their childhood, summer homes in North Carolina. What they find in their secret pool alerts them to nearby bootleggers but they are on a journey to find her sister that didn’t perish in the burned out orphanage, and he to showcase his prized paper inventions to none other than Thomas Edison. A train strike doesn’t stop them, a party at the Vanderbilt estate, a shootout nor two opposite coasts of business. They even meet an undercover Washington D.C. reporter, who delivers the chocolate for Lilly, along the way willing to help them as he is after the hit men and their bosses. Her long lost sister, Lilly, gets out just in time on the east coast and the couple, Robert and Emmaline, on the west coast share a first kiss while rowing out from the shores of Edison’s winter retreat.

In the end, the two sisters, Emmaline and Lilly, are united with all the family present in North Carolina, and Robert has partners to back his ventures. This could be a series going forward with the story of their inventions and hotel business in Florida.

I’m an Indie Author and delighted to introduce myself to you! I’m on Amazon.com under the pen name of Caroline Clemens where I have a couple novels, poetry, and my first novella, “Kiss Ride.” I blog at carolineclemens.com and theivorytide.com. I’ve written journalism styled articles for The Guardian Liberty Voice and received two honorable mention awards for “Bleu Moon,” which is the middle segment of my contemporary novel “Into the Vines.” I find this creative process to be a work of art with hopes of producing more titles, such as a thriller I have in the works.


Caroline Clemens


Lastly, I have decided to put professional covers on my books starting with the very first real book I wrote. I’m changing the title, re-editing, and adding this wonderful cover by Dani from Brazil you see above. More to come on that. Thanks for reading the newsletter from a starving artist-haha. My humor is emerging, engaging me to write that satire, humor-filled artists role. It will be based upon my favorite comedian.

Caroline Clemens

*art work by Danielle

*photography by me


Poetry From Autumn Quotes

C1LCVH8XUAA64w9.jpg large


Beneath the sea,
Frolics you and me.
If ever we are caught,
Such a battle will be fought.
The air is gold above the ivory tide;
Yet, free we glide in our coral and aqua ride.

Moon River

A beautiful moon river …
The path so golden and lit;
Shall I dream a dream,
Or blink reality as I sit?

My Moon

Evening dropped by again
I raced down the planks lightly.
There he was waiting for me,
Rising up from the dark water.

Calmness settled over me smoothly
I just know he wants to tell me.
Maybe something new, maybe what I know.
My feet shift and stand firm in the sand.

Climbing the sky he’s going too fast.
I want to hold on and go slow.
What blessings can this glow give to me?
A silver river of dreams from me to my moon,

Yes, just me and my moon now,
Glimmering white surrounded by pale clouds.
He burst through and made me smile
Knowing dreams would come true after a while

All poems by Caroline Clemens from Autumn Quotes on Amazon.

Photography by me.

Break Time

Seven years ago I happened upon social medias and kept going after more. I suppose I suddenly found time for a break with the enormity of raising three children close in age. I also wanted to know what they were doing as we’d heard of the many dangers of the world wide web, something I didn’t have growing up. We had books, television, movie theaters, and school. I continually learned enjoying most of it and appalled by some. Eventually I started three blogs, ended up on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, You-Tube, and a few others. I’m still here but am now prioritizing and refocusing.

The photo above is the cover for my 3rd novel ‘Sapphire Souls’ which is part of Into the Vines. My photograph was used with Amazon’s KDP (kindle direct publishing), a tool for self-pubbed authors. Truly incredible!

Never did I think I would write books. Click link below.

Amazon page

A whole other world opened for me and for that I’m grateful. I learned more than a lot. I gained an entrance into my brain that was rarely used (I wrote poetry back when I was 20 n 30) and found out how to express that. Things I loved growing up were right there, and now maybe, I understood why I liked those things as a child or teen or young adult.

No wonder why I went out for musicals, choir, sports, put on skits, and ran for vice president of my class. We should pursue the things in life that make us happy, feel good, and want to succeed, otherwise we become miserable and unable to move forward. We feel trapped. I’ve always been for more arts, sports, recess, and music in school. I could see my children being swept up in homework, sitting all day, bored in class by teachers passing out worksheets and not teaching. They just don’t listen to me (yes, I even got on a board w the principal back in elementary school).

Therefore, I decided to write books in hopes of gaining a larger audience. I’m a doer but realize one person can’t do it all, and really, would we want perfection all at once? I continually seek a sweeter life (and a publisher) with adventure, and maybe now, just to do a little less as my teens will be eighteen (2) and nineteen (1). I have to break except for a couple blog posts I want to do in March on theivorytide.com. I will do my May newsletter on this site.

I deserve a small break, it’s been a wonderful life!

Thanks a million! Kim Troike

Caroline Clemens-pen

Novel Review


Into the Vines

Thank you kindly Jeyran Main for reading and reviewing my novella, String the Cranberries and my novel, Into the Vines. Since the 1st print I have changed the author name & am using my pen name Caroline Clemens. You can find me here on Amazon self-pubbed. Or the 1st edition here at Barnes & Noble.

Here’s the review:  Into the Vines


Thank you Jeyran Main!

Christmas Newsletter 2016


Welcome to my blog! I’m so glad you found me, let me tell you a little about me. I’ve been blogging since 2011 and have learned more than I could ever have hoped. It’s like there’s a whole other world out there for sharing and appreciating; makes me feel so grown up! I feel as though the light has been turned ON. I definitely know I found this at the right time as I was looking for more in my life. Why?

Well, I had completed my task list and had dismissed myself to the wayside. Have you ever done that? So I began to concentrate on me and did a couple things but something was missing, that feel or engagement of sorts. Let’s say you attend a musical or play or concert and you just love it. That feeling stays with you for quite sometime. I was missing the concert, or concerto.


Now I feel as though I don’t have enough time in the day; I mean come on God I need 48 hours for every day. Smiles. I’ll prioritize again, very soon, but first I’m launching this writing thing that began back in 2011. I have books on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, mostly digital save for one that I spent money to get published from a small press. They did a fantastic job and I was never more proud to have a book of my own. I didn’t break the bank as I’m a bit frugal and handle my finances very well.

Last night though, I transformed my digital stories into print books, low cost to purchase right on Amazon. God Bless Amazon! Seriously, after five years of learning every detail myself, someone was there to take my hand and say, okay here’s the final step. Let’s see if we can’t find you some readers and make a little money for your hard earned efforts. We’ll see. I’m as happy as a ………


Christmas has always been special for me and I don’t remember ever being depressed at this time. I know what sadness is maybe even depression but I never carried it for a long time. I’ve had some hits in my life and I honestly don’t know why but I’m wired to get up every time and start over again. If you are sad or depressed at this time reach out just a little and find someone to have a talk with. That helps tremendously. Coffee and a good chat!

Back to the books and what am I grateful for at this time of the year? Simply the people in my life and the zest for which I live. I’m a list maker and a doer. My husband stood by me for years as we struggled with infertility (the quiet killer of dreams) and now I stand with him as he makes a new career for himself moving forward. I’m proud of him for making that change after 32 years at the same institution. I love change and he doesn’t. Talk about opposites.


Here’s to the next step in life for both of us! I’m just getting started and have more stories to write. I’ve entered contests with cash prizes. Yes! Say a prayer for me and I have already started on a tiny lighthouse Christmas tale. For now go to Amazon or Barnes & Noble and find me there under Caroline Clemens, my pen name.  Twitter

Carpe Diem and Merry Christmas with a Blessed New Year! Caroline Clemens

This post is dedicated to Susie Lindau’s #Blessed Project at  #BlessedProject@WildRide

Blogger @theivorytide.com Amazon Purchase

Photography by Me I Have An Amazon Page!

My husband Mike (aka Hemmingway), lights and cabin via Marybeth & Brian’s place.

*Oh my having trouble getting my novel to convert into print! This is distressing for the life of a self-pubbed writer. One in draft, the other not working. Update later ….

* Update on Twitter

The Christmas Tree #poetry by Dorinda Duclos of Night Owl Poetry

Magical, mystical, this Christmas tree Decorated lovingly, for all to see Standing in the flurries of winter’s cold Garland surrounds it, around it, behold This beautiful season, adorning the land Colorfully elegant, vibrant and grand ©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved Photo via Pixabay

via The Christmas Tree ~ #poetry of #Christmas — Dorinda Duclos – Night Owl Poetry