Summer sleep evades my weary soul still
Like a drinking bee. It surely mocks me!
Be the chomping silky bride dressed and chill
Prepare your fat goalie to defend thee
Cool your sweaty, sticky Mary Janes here
Those hot-dragged muddy shoes beat loudly
Inches invade heated icy souls, dear
Give up your cool ideas resoundingly
Define the way you sleep my darling child
Shall we celebrate us for our courage?
Ease and end the angeled winter so wild
Scream in wave-ridden promise; be the nudge.
Gilded, gliding, golden lanterns sniff air
Summered wanton shouts of joy capture. Share!
About the Creator
Raissa Dassel
I have been a poet since my childhood. It peaked during my misunderstood teens and now again in my 50th year of life. It would be an honor to have people respond to my thoughts. I played the piano as a child, too. It is a beautiful life.
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More stories from Raissa Dassel and writers in Poets and other communities.
I Wish
I wish you would just admit that you care. It is not your unintended indifference that is the problem. Ignorance has only so many watch guards. One was named Cerberus and he had three heads, I believe. He had nine sisters and brothers yet ran along the banks of the Styx, sad-eyed and alone. Let me in.
By Raissa Dassel3 years ago in Poets
He Loved Her...
Can't speak yet she hasn't forgotten how to think Can't feel yet she still knows what is real Cornered she just cowers Tallying the hours until she's free Struggling in darkness to find the key's grace That will relieve her from this suffocating embrace
By Nichole Campbella day ago in Poets
We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctic2 days ago in Fiction
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