Foto by Jason Weaver, 2017

Foto by Jason Weaver, 2017

It’s one of those
hot summer sun
blowin’ bubblegum
fun rubbin’ butter cups
on kneecaps,
flippin’ bottle tops,
sippin’ chin-drippin’ ice-pops,
lickin’ cotton candy sticky
fingertips, sour pucker
cherry soda lips,
pixie stix,
rubber hose-spritzin’
green grass slip ‘n’-
slidin’ bare-feet
banana-seat bike ridin’
fickle flick n’ tickle,
first kissin’ reminiscin’
kind of days.

By Jason Weaver, 2017

Linking up with Open Link Night #191, on dVerse Poetry Pub, check them out!


Summer Pink


White estival sun
singes to my skin-thin
a crimson tinge
reminiscent the scorch
of (your) scorn
like a pervasive haze
hot and brazen-faced
and at this point, I wince
indignant and disappointed
(in myself) once more
and squint my abraded eyes
to fade the glowering glint
of a simmering summer
pique to pink

And into the embowering swathe
of a woven hammock asway
I repine, supine, in the shade
my maudlin mind prescinds
adrift on errant winds
flowering scented–
ascendent and falling
with the stridulant calling
of rhapsodic cicada
into the susurrous treetops
to drop
all that I’ve let best me
and beset me from within
to never burn
in this temperament

by Jason Weaver