A CURL OF THE WAVE

 

 

The Dead are dancing,

swooping down with joy.

They love Oasis.

Florida belongs to them.

They rule the night.

Lightning follows in their wake.

Thunder blows its trumpet.

We bow to their might.

You can see the joy

in the curl of the wave.

THE DEAD GAME

 

THE BLUE WAVE

 

A blue wave of ocean.

Coming closer to shore.

Bringing with it darkness.

And yet still so much more.

 

I’m tempted to ride it.

Take it to the limit.

I want to see its strength

And if it’s a gimmick.

 

The blue is almost transparent.

A glass of cold water for me.

Hitting me in the face with salt.

Lifting me as high as can be.

 

Goodbye to the town of Oasis.

Goodbye to my perfect paradise.

Squashed by the hand of The Dead and gone.

By a mere roll of the deadly dice.

 

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

THE LAST WAVE

sunset wave

 

THE LAST WAVE

It’s coming.

Coming closer.

It’s here.

The big wave.

I’ve been waiting all day.

In over my head.

My feet are lifting.

Being swept away.

The swell is taking me.

Holding me close.

I can’t move.

I can’t swim.

Head is going under.

Silence.

Rocks.

Fish.

Time slows down.

The last wave.