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Donna Jul 19
A warm holiday
abroad , nah I’ll just sit in
the conservatory

Where Shelter May 27

Four Irises tall & gallant, looking though
slighted worn out, a tad bedraggled
they are springtime survivor stragglers
of the Great Spring Weather Battle.

living in an open trench, battle conditions,
wind-whipped by constant strong breezes,
raked by intermittent machine gun rain,
familiar weapons of the “handover” season

loyal guardians of their pinpoint position,
remaining on duty, standing at attention,
dignified amidst the serene, nearly summer, now,
accepting quietude & gratitude of surround soundings

arrow-straight, in dress uniforms of royally purple,
four lead a cohort of unbloomed green fellows,
protecting their charge, an ancient marker of time,
rusted-green bronze sundial, symbol of continuity

these four, boon companions to human and animal,
shall persist long after I cease to dabble in this art,
they greet their admirers in full regalia, every year,
long, long may they live, die and be yet reborn!

here, in place, when we arrived four decades ago, a tiny forever,
changelings heading a processional of the summer season,
greeting all with a simple story of constance of change, of beauty,
leading our Summertime Commencement Exercises

May 26 ~ 27, 2023
message me if you would like to see photos of the source
der kuss May 2022
it was a summertime dream
where you could be whoever you wished
where you could ask for whatever you wanted
warm white sun graced our dark world, shining
swimming pool was bright blue, glistening yellow and gold

cooling myself off from the amusing heatwave, i had the most fun
when was the last time i truly laughed and was joyous?
my heart sang and i was afraid for a moment–oh the weight to be happy!
i let go of the fear, and i hummed the tune to every boy i half-loved
in hope i could open up to life–a girl can’t be this wistful

and simon was hilarious, he was the bigger man,
he was the life i needed myself to open up to, his sunburnt arms around my waist,
and there’s a feeling of great loss in me i needed to bury deep
besides simon, the hollowness in me stayed–how do we bury a hollowness?
with diamonds and an innocent boy, and more diamonds, simon said

the pale blue dome was washed with gold crimson rays now
and summertime had to end eventually, with me stayed these memories to get by
when i was blue and cold and aching in my father’s misty, lush grave
simon too was vanished, his promises lingered on my fingertips sealed with his kisses
he loved me that summer and that summer only
Anais Vionet May 2022
It’s Sunday morning, 7am. My phone jiggles and a Doja-cat ringtone jars me awake. It’s Kim asking if we want to set out for some frisbee golf - you have to tee-off early on the weekend to avoid the rush. “No, I moan, not today” I say, licking my emery-paper dry lips and trying to focus my eyes on the giant LED numbers of my alarm clock, “Leong and I got shot,” I add for maximum dramatic effect.

Later, about 11am. I’m lead-ball tired and so is Leong. My arm hurts so bad I can hardly lift it. Leong says hers does too. We’re kind of binging “Riverdale” but, in reality, we’re curled up, blanketed, and surrounded by pillows on the living-room sectional couch, napping off and on.

It’s slightly odd, being at home again with my mom, who used to manage everything about me. She knew when I should go to bed and get up, what vegetables and fruit I ate. She knew my teachers, who my friends were, when I had homework due, or needed a dental cleaning, when I had a doctor's appointment (although she really was my doctor), how I was feeling, if I had my period, when I took a bath, when my sheets needed changing - everything.

Now my mom has her brakes on - I can see her sometimes, flexing to comment on something, like our plan to go to the pool party the other night at 11pm, but stopping herself.

I guess I’m a different (university sophomore) me and she’s a different (more hands off) her.

Leong’s very Chinese-respectful around my parents. She calls my mom “mamma” and Step (my stepfather) “baba“ and practically comes to attention whenever they address her.
They’re just parents,” I say, denigratingly, “relax.” She nods, she’s trying.

Early yesterday (Saturday) morning, Leong and I were in the kitchen, at a round table, deep in our kitchen bay-window area, where we’re surrounded by plants and hanging ferns. My mom was making us a pancake and bacon breakfast (yum!), which was lovely, in theory, but Leong and I were badly maimed (hung over) - which I’m willing to bet she guessed. The night before we went to a high school graduation throwdown.

“Do you girls have plans for tomorrow?” My mom asked, as she transferred several pancakes from a frying pan onto a baking sheet in the oven.
“Nothing in particular, why?” I replied, as I looked up to eye-drop my seemingly sandy eyes.
“You’re going overseas in less than two weeks and I’d like to have you two covid boosted before then. You might feel tired or sore the next day,” she said, as she flipped her latest set of four pancakes in the frying pan, “so getting them today would be ideal.”
I look to Leong, to check her reaction and she shrugs with her coffee cup to her lips.
“Ok,” I say, “sure.”
“Leong,” my mom begins, “do you need to check with your parents?”
“Mom!” I almost shout, reacting harshly. I’m hung-over, mercurial, and embarrassed that she’s treating Leong like a child.
“No, Mamma” Leong says, looking at me, frowning - stepping over my outrage, solicitously - both answering the question and calming me down at once.

My mom transfers the latest batch of pancakes to the oven, where there’s now a flat baking pan piled with them. She closes the oven, flicks off the gas burner, picks up a silver tray that was lying on a side table, covered with a kitchen towel, and comes over to us.

She lifts the towel and we see two covid booster syringes and alcohol wipes.
“Now?” I say, slightly alarmed (I’m not a big fan of shots).
She raises one syringe to the light for a brief inspection and taps it twice. She cleanses my right arm with an alcohol wipe, gently pinches an area and injects me with one quick, smooth motion - I hardly feel it. She steps around to Leong, who’s also sleeveless, and repeats the process with the other syringe.

And just like that, we’re all boosted, in less than a minute. She hands us both our updated covid cards and says, "Alexa, announce breakfast is ready.”
Doctor moms can be handy.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Mercurial: "rapid, unpredictable changes in mood”
sky Feb 2022
staring out the window on hot summer dawn, as i look up in the sky, i vaguely recall becoming trapped in its twinkling stars and made me feel like i was in the midst of a mesmerizing little village at christmas or a sea of fireflies in the woods. however even the brightest star couldn't match with the splendor of the early morning light gleaming through your eyes, or the way you could see every star in your vision. in the wee hours of the night, their radiance was enough to illuminate a thousand cities.

you were the universe, and i was merely a tiny little particle that dropped to witness your brilliance, and so i reached out my hand to you only to be struck by the emptiness that had taken its place in your presence. for more days than i cared to remember, you were barred from embracing me. even yet, i'll keep reaching for yours in the desire that you'll show up along the way to meet my grip. despite the time of day or night, i only hope to genuinely love you like much more than i did the last time we met.

after all, why would anyone ever want to see you go? those moments when the summer breeze can't compete with your warmth and love. there is nothing more endearing than the bright sun rising in the morning. sometimes the flame is too hot to touch, and i have to find solace behind the tree for a while. your figure, on the other hand, will not decay, nor will you be eroded by the weather. your presence is the only one anyone would like to see, much like a bee that is longing for its flower to bloom— i'm a honey bee, and you're a delicate flower. reflecting rainbows after a little mist of summertime fog, having me within you will not bring an end to your dreams. our nights will get more luminous as well as our days as season goes by.
this is based on the kdrama entitled our beloved summer. i was so hooked by the story of it so i decided to create a short prose that is inspired from the kdrama itself. if you haven't watched it yet, better watch it now, sit back and relax!
Dave Robertson Aug 2021
Bubbling in summer’s bouillon
my vegetal notes abound
leaf and fruit under glass
swell quick but threaten

as a base for my tin *** stews
it’ll do in a pinch
but I already yearn
for the inching roots and tubers
colder autumn brings
when sweats are chosen
and frost rimes
glamourise my grin
Brandon Aug 2021
Walking home, I told you I've been down this road before
Broken communication, insecure intimacy; what a toll
Emotionally vacant, there was no saving our chemistry
This version of the ending's nothing new to me
We met one day and in my eyes, I foresaw a flourishing life
The heartache burned my silky strings
The pain was sharper than a yellow jacket's sting
The confirmation in your eyes was colder than a winter's eye
My fingertips caressed your face once, it melted my cloudy sky
Our political and social morals disrupted our beautiful contortion
Like bi-polar seasons, the effort was that of feedback distortion
You drowned in your insecurities and blocked any trust in me
As the bed we slept in had no portion for me to lie in
I smelt smoke from inside; my strings were crying for waves of blue
breakups are unfortunate because for the most part, you don't see them coming to an end. we're so caught up in our rose-colored glasses that the red flags glide right past us until the relationship status changes. communication is so important in keeping a relationship thriving. if you don't have that, then it'll wither away like your favorite flower.
dexter Aug 2020
Eyes wider than Ohio
Staring directly into the truth I've spent years in denial about.
Psychedelic doubt
Ugly within, uglier without.
Questioning myself and every decision I've ever made
Ego dissolution, consequential confusion
Every move has a karmic influence
So we spend our days in the sunlight of the spirit
Summertime eternal
Flowers will die but ever we are in bloom
Screaming "doom" & "i love you"
From the womb to the tomb.
a poem i wrote after tripping face with my not-blood sister. i love you jandalyn tai
Norman Crane Aug 2020
I am white clouds
Blue sky drifting
Apart from me cicadas buzz loudly
Bare back on hot cedar planks
Mindfulness in bloom
Ideas like dandelion seeds
Arise before floating beyond the roof line
I am time—
The lawnmover engine turns,
reality returns.
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