Tassos (edited)



Tassos is having a dream
on a rainy, cold night.

I’m up writing and surfing the web.

I hear him in agony calling my name,
the loudest whisper I’ve ever heard.

I never reply and wait.

Back to sleep he is and I back to writing,
curious about the touch felt

on my right hand.

He’s a teacher, in an unfamiliar village, of martial arts.
Content, but his gut feeling tells him something is off,
then I appear, peaceful and laconic, in his dream.

“The lesson will keep me here for a while, my students… Go.”
“Go where?” He cannot answer. Says, “I have to stay here.”
“Stay where?” I ask, as I leave and coldness surrounds him.

Dad shows up inquiring whether I had been there,
putting his hand on Tassos’s shoulder says,
“Hope with all your heart she returns. You have no other way out.”

On tactful nights,
mutual rescues
sensibly take place,
whether we’re up
and about, busy
with the lust
mulishly preceding
such dawns of brighter
days ahead, or not.


Athens, 2019


© ifyouplease 2022
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no comments or critique sought.
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I am not sure if I am reading this correctly but here goes 😉 It speaks of the ability to communicate with others over time and space. There is no death so our dreams are often peopled by those we have loved and lost. We are only operating with a fraction of our DNA operational but we all have other senses. This poem speaks to me of the ability to visit others in the dream world and for them to be aware at some level. And vise versa. So much we do not know yet but will in due time.… Read more »


Dreams have the ability to bend time, and we have the capability to colour time, past, now and that coming. That is the human condition perfectly captured in this poem.


Although I got the gist of this obviously personal poem, I am somewhat confused. In the first verse ‘Back to sleep – back to writing’ can either mean that you fall asleep in front of the computer while you re surfing the web and wake up to resume writing or that you go to bed, sleep and then get up to write again. We have to make assumptions about who Tassos, who’s dreaming and calling in agony with a loud whisper (an oxymoron used for dramatic effect, I suppose) is. At first I thought he was the father but later… Read more »


First, I’m no poet so I’m just commenting about how I see this and I haven’t read the other comments. I can see the three distinct parts in this and, from the beginning I can feel the separation between the person writing and the one sleeping. I can also feel a tentative reaching out too – the call of the name, the touch of a hand. The second part comes over perfectly as a dream – that imperfect logic they seem to follow – and still echoes the situation set up in the first part. The last part feels like… Read more »

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