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ROSE WINDOW
Crafted surely
as any cathedral
this stem
a flying buttress
upholding glory;
stripped
of thorns
that might stain
with scarlet
coral-rimed
cream.
Each petal
a testament
to marvels
unseen,
wrapped tight
around a core
of mystery’
and the fragrance
the odor of sanctity/
Susan Dean Wessells
The words are hiding
from me
again.
I awoke,
certain they had summoned me;
but now
they have crept
out of sight,
engaged in their endless game
of hide-and-go-seek.
I search
under the thesaurus,
beside the dictionary,
but for all the words there
none adhere to me.
Then this notebook opens
revealing a welcoming page
and from my pencil lead
the poem bursts forth,
snickering quietly to itself.
Susan Dean Wessells
Susan’s muse has bitten her! and we are the lucky recipients. Thank you so much for joining us here, Poet Susan, and sharing your work. — Melissa
Fish oil capsules slide right down.
Neurontin follows after.
Wellbutrin and Abilify
turn sadness into laughter.
Furosemide sticks in my throat,
I choke upon it daily;
while Trazadone at night I take
to greet the morning gaily.
Coreg and an aspirin
both for my heart I’m taking,
A variety of vitamins
are another cocktail making.
I take a few prescription drugs
that help me remain placid.
Omeprazole magnesium
protects from too much acid.
Let’s not forget the insulin
at breakfast, lunch and dinner.
It keeps my blood from sugar highs,
but doesn’t keep me thinner.
Susan Dean Wessells
Contemplative
as a wizened nun
he nestles in my arms,
regarding his universe
with a contented sigh.
Mandalas of dust motes
morph new designs
while phantoms unseen
(by me)
draw his unblinking gaze.
Head tucked in
and upside down
he sleeps
(and softly snores).
I cradle him,
humbled
by his absolute trust.
A study in serenity,
he instructs me
in the zen of being.
“It seems if there is a cat in the house of a poet at least one poem will be generated extolling the feline. This is my de rigeur cat poem.” – Susan Dean Wessells
Thirty years
(and counting).
I am falling still.
Sometimes the sky
is achingly blue,
and the memory of clouds
brushes white against azure.
At others,
cumulonimbus
create the bouncy castle
in which I jump
and play.
Then are those gray days,
rent with lightning,
drenched with rain,
when misery enfolds me
and I long for solid ground
on which to make
soft landing.
Susan Dean Wessells
Susan Dean Wessells has been writing poetry since ethe age of eight. Her life has been rich with varied experiences which nourish her writing. In 2007 she realized a lifelong dream of being a contestant on the Jeopardy! game show. She is currently writing a novel about vampire nuns.
