The days of Summer are here
On this beautiful earth sphere
This season of shine
The beach we do pine
Our time to appear draws near
The day we have awaited has arrived
To the seaside we carefully drive
The kids and their daddy
The excitement in us now thrives
In adventure they play on the dunes
Through the reeds the breeze plays a tune
A symphony so grand
As I'm barefoot on the sands
On this glorious sunny afternoon
For these days of Summer cheer us all
As the sounds of happy kids en-thrall
Our day is now ended
As darkness has descended
My kids and I had a ball
Where have they gone, all those great days of yore
When we used to meet down by the sea shore,
Those high clouds above, just drifting away,
The smell of the sea, the gulls at their play.
Why do some think that that was a bore?
Maybe they've never done that before!
Sea shore, mountain top, where to go?
Woodsy retreat? I really don't know!
But one thing is sure, I won't stay here;
It's the thing I anticipate every year.
You know: "When ya gotta go, ya gotta go!"
Getting away just to go play,
Here's something I've got to say:
There's nobody I know of today
Who would dare get in my way
When I am ready to get away!
Tis splendor in the grass these coming summer days
America’s youth can have their privileged adolescent ways
Swimming and playing or simply being laid back
They have little worries without any teacher’s flack
Enrich they youngish self before the inevitable groans of early Mondays
Just now I’m feeling quite glum
Of sorrow, here is the sum
No swimming this year
I say with a tear
My mind’s befuddled and dumb
I really need a good splash
To rid my soul of the trash
I need a good swim
For life is now grim
I need to do something rash
The Dolphin, my given name
But now, I’m covered in shame
I’m more like a whale
That’s my sorry tale
But I’m graceful all the same
To Cyprus must take a trip
I’m planning to skinny dip
To be wild and free
Sunshine and some glee
Perhaps, I’ll then get a grip
Eileen Manassian Ghali
http://youtu.be/gKaT5uG80Ts : Bright Sunshiny Day. Not exactly on topic, but....a happy song. I'm in need of one! ENJOY!!!!!
INDIAN ROCK - AND HOW IT WAS TAKEN
They came to the hills with intent,
Offering worship and praise as they went.
The rock with two hands
On my grandparent’s lands
Held a mystical song, most reverent.
One year the museum man came
From a place with a big, fancy name;
He ordered the stone
To find a new home,
So east went the rock with acclaim.
My Grandma, both worried and stirred;
To the people, she couldn’t send word.
In the spring they appeared
Holding gifts as they neared,
‘Imminent Domain’ a term they’d never heard.
That summer, when she heard their soft knock,
She told them how she tried to block,
But the men most insistent,
And oh, most persistent
Served papers to take charge of the rock.
Now the rock sits away from the sun;
Children gaze at the hands, but no one
Kneels before it in praise
Feeling summer’s full rays,
Giving thanks for all that God’s done.
[This is a true story. In the early 1970’s, a rock of pink granite, with two carved hands facing
the rising sun, was removed from my grandparent’s pasture by people from the Museum of
Natural History. It was to be part of an exhibit on Indian Culture. And yes, they had papers.
Grandma cried the following summer when the people appeared on the day before summer
solstice. She cried when she told them of the rock’s removal. They did not cry. They held
out gifts, insisting Grandma accept. Then they left. They did not return again.]
Once there was a little butterfly
Once there was a little butterfly
Which flew up to the sky
And descended low
On a chocolate cream pie
Away little butterfly
And away she goes
Over the hilly valleys
As the summer wind blows
To a place that is far
And nobody knows
Flapping her bright wings
With purple and blue rings
And disappears again
Like a mid summer dream
kids are like the summer dew
they grow they cling they wet on you
I'm off once again to the tread machine.
As summer approaches, I must be lean.
For my ever-growing girth
Controls feelings of self-worth.
Twenty pounds must go before summer's seen.
for the "Battle of the Bulge" limerick contest