The Dry Season (a poem)

Dusty in the mouth

My words are withered

In the searing gaze

Of your sandy eyes.

I am brittle clay

Parched for renewal

Awaiting the rain.

My walls form a tomb

When you're closed outside

And I am the ghost

That walks the darkness.

Penetrate the seal.

Use whatever tool

You carry with you

Til discovery.

Yet I remember

Your carressing warmth

That makes me a whole.

What is a desert

Without the sunlight?

This is selfless death

So that we are preserved.

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Comments 3 comments

juneaukid profile image

juneaukid 6 years ago from Denver, Colorado

This is an interesting poem with rich imagery--could it be a bit longer?

Daena B. profile image

Daena B. 6 years ago from Wenatchee, WA Author

Thank you Jueaukid, I do shy away from long poems...worried that it will become mostly filler lines, if you know what I mean. Do you think I improved it with the lines I added here? I would appreciate the feedback. :)

kenneth avery profile image

kenneth avery 2 years ago from Hamilton, Alabama

Hi, Daena,

Love this poem. That is my weakness: Poetry. Abstract/Prose to be exact. I want you to read two of my poems:

"Living on The Dark Side of Dixie," and "An Old Dreamers Dream," and let me know what you think.

This is an excellent piece of writing. Amazing, to be quite frank with you.

I loved every word--and the lay-out was superb. Interesting, in-depth, helpful, and very informative. Great job.

Voted up and all the choices because you deserve it.

You have such a gift for writing. Just keep writing and good things are bound to happen to you.


Kenneth Avery, Hamilton, Alabama

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