Featuring:) Giorgio Veneto
She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
The widow turned the air on, closed her door
against the summers’ sounds and cooling breeze.
She had no friends or allies anymore
and family were mere shards of memories.
But sometimes, like a captured damsel, she
would stand beside her window for a while.
Her neighbor sitting on his porch would see
her. He'd turn her way, and tip his hat and smile.
It might have crossed her mind she could regain
some confidence in going out to meet
this friendly gent, but at her window pane
she stayed as life outside breathed in the heat.
Then risking nothing, she would turn away
and never know the scent of that one day.
I see a pair of Pink and Greys
They fly on by my way
They seem to be so filled with health
To me they do have so much wealth
They're so majestic in the sky
As I see them flying by
And when they land upon a branch
It really puts me in a trance
Trays of seed I have for them
On which upon they land
Such a lovely sight to see
I could almost feed them from my hand
I love to see them feeding there
As the seed these two birds share
Walk along the shore with me and let me see you smile
Close your eyes and visualize a romantic tropical isle
Palm trees and a summer breeze, sunshine overhead
Conversation with only our eyes, nothing being said
A secluded beach just out of reach, the surf the only sound
Two hearts one in the summer sun, a blanket on the ground
A sailboat dancing on the horizon, sun is going down
Tropical evening, harbor lights, as we walk back to town
Was it real or was I just dreaming as we walk along
And as we walk, the ocean singing her enchanting song
Feel the sand between our toes and taste the salty air
A falling star streaks across the sky going God knows where
You touch my heart and my soul in this island Paradise
The reflection of the Southern Cross in your loving eyes
Shall I contend thee on a summer's day?
Thou art more vengeful and more aggressive.
Rough winds do shake the bleeding buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short to live.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven brands,
And often is his gold complexion grimmed;
And limit to the fear a mind withstands,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.
baseball and poetry love them both
just like writing baseball excites me too
and during the recent months they’ve gain growth
love it as much as writing an haiku
can’t wait next month the season will begin
I'm not like others I never played golf
if I’m lucky I’ll catch a Red Sox win
outside of Fenway was a sign for Gulf
besides Poetry Soup may be else where
such as MLB dot com checking scores
I love baseball because it has some flair
as a kid bought cards from many stores
when summer is here I’ll watching more
wife and I caught a Red Sox Phillies game
and my wife didn’t find the game a bore
but lately the Red Sox have brought us shame
but the new season will be starting soon
enjoy the games even from the saloon
Summers come and go, what little time
do I get that new game and play
as the summer heat peaks in time.
Will my friends be able to play?
Is my family going on a train
to somewhere so far away
where there will be so much pain
wish I was home to play.
That fishing hole down the road
where all love to spend our time.
fish big enough break my rod
as we sit in the sun from above.
It will be here so soon in time
how will I have fun this summer time
The equinox in autumn evens out
the nights and days and makes them equal length.
I lie outside because I am devout,
but you, dear Sun, eventually lose strength.
I dream in winter of each afternoon
we meet in summer. . . passion at its peak,
and I can play as if I'm a cocoon
wrapped in your heat till night time makes you weak.
Oh, Sun, I need again for you to surge
for hours on end, so I can take you in
and at the close of day, I can emerge
your monarch, tinged with scarlet for our sin.
Spring comes, and with it comes the moment when
a kiss of sunshine I will feel again!
Written by Andrea Dietrich/ 3/7/13
For "A Kiss of Sunshine" Poetry Contest
1 original, poem on the theme of .A Kiss Of Sunshine............
Any form is acceptable.
Now for the "Take Two" Poetry Contest of nette onclaud
The last hints of starlight dim
As night time morphs to morning.
The crickets and the birdsong hymns
Join chorus in the dawning.
In eastern sky where azure grows
And frames the summer sun,
Young eagle glides, then swooping low
- Her first prey to be won.
Midday splays through forest's crown
Like spotlights on a stage,
To highlight the last hints of down
Where young chicks fly and fox kits play.
And there, down by the grist mill pond
The rope swings busy all day long.
Written June 12, 2013 for Francine's Summer Day Contest
The caramel leaves seem to fall from sky
In waves, as zephyr sings through chimes and eaves
Its song that whispers a fall lullaby
As a gentle rustling wind through autumn leaves
September a time to slow down, be still
Slowly now we have less light_ more dark
A drawing to home and hearth seems our will
Beckoning to fill with bounty our hearts
Caramel sauce for those crisp apples near
The heat of summer is in distant past
None of that snow of winter yet to fear
Watering chores of summer now are past
All things for coming winter out in place
Now one can slow to a snail's simple pace
In honor of Brian Strand's contest...
Click on"About That Poem"
Enchanted by the beauty of the night,
the wayward breeze of summer’s eve disturbed
emotions of the past. The waxen light
of moon espied, as flames of old reverbed.
A fading love revived on golden sands;
goodbyes, the only words we planned to heed,
were left unsaid as fate rejoined our hands,
and soft lips kissed, in search to sate their need.
Insatiable desires refused to quell
as skin to skin we bathed in salty waves
and loved in time to gentle tidal swell
forever now entwined as passion’s slaves,
though just my dreams beneath the stars above
bore witness to our steamy summer love.
** Steamy Summer Love sonnet
seasons is the relationship.
changes a lot.
SUMMER tells us the value of FRIENDS.
WINTER tells us the caring of FRIENDS.
SPRING is about the quarrel with the FRIENDS.
AUTUMN tells about the LONELINESS.
THUNDER occurs when you fight with me.
LIGHTING occurs when.,
i miss my LOVED ONE.
RAIN occurs when.,
i spend time with my LOVELY ONE.
BREEZE occurs when you give a SMILE after a CRY.
that's the life,
which i spend with my DEAR ONE.
Soap bubbles float through mid-school breeze
that crack our giggles, to the playful night,
we dab the sheen film on oak trees
or glue bobbed orbs on crushes’ kites
And vapor-like, our summers warmly wrap
the peek-a-boos squeaking tag games
on moonlit field where foams eavesdrop;
inviting tricks without a shame
Long days collect more popping sprees
as sticky piles knot in our hair
like wiggles on tanned sun, how free
to mess around till burnt cheeks tear
The madness of young summer brings
under red stars, I feel her bubbles sing.
Contest: SKat-Oz's Summer Poems
ON A SUMMERS AFTERNOON
Come sit a spell--we'll take a little time--
from out of life, forgetting what we know;
and talk upon some things I guess that I'm
much closer to--than things life's had to show.
Do you know love? It's funny how it goes
to almost anyone, who needs it not,
but be there need--and love--it never shows
like finer things of life, to those who've got!
Now does that seem to be a fitting thing
to talk about, as passing time away?
Or would you choose what weather has to bring
as here we sit--with nothing more to say?
I guess your life's been blessed--and filled with love
or you'd know what my heart is speaking of.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
A frying dying yolk of sun winks at the dimming eve, the runaway ocean breeze… surf rushing, gushing over under feet; memories savor washing, cleansing conscious sweet
Falling motion slowing backward hands reaching, grasping for the cool bathing crystal blue rolling and strolling out from the shoreline sand in sand
Empty, now imaginary imprints beaches once filling now fading footprints the lost summer you were still a girl pure and passionate I was developing into becoming a man
The gulls knew the secret of our lost summer place, obscuring dunes topped with pastel seas of greens grass, for no apparent sudden reason I glimpse the clouds that align revealing splendors of tender draped familiar face of a distancing past
Forever eyes so very forever lost when gazing upon you and overwhelmed by your sweet and sickly taste, our souls intertwining within the four corners of our world the beach blanket redefining complexities of the here and now time and the you and I space
As we commandeer commanding the universe to cease for an another noon, seizing, kidnapping each hour from the keeper as we continue drowning into each other’s pools surrendering to the longing yearning witnessing crowning glory beneath the dancing beams of hazing maroons...
Upon arriving in a cold dawn breeze
Whilst hands might be full, demanding to lift
Eagle eyed on such a shadow at ease
Extends a welcome, still I became stiff.
Aura’s on edge to this fragile posture
Dismal charade coats his inner bearing
As river of moonshine does not torture
The eight, deep-seated ‘til rays are glaring.
Gathered for indulgence at fresh midday
The fragile has a mouth for his wise tongue
Sharing trivia that carried me away
And yet bluffs as a flat poker-faced young.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
That is quite an open-and-shut draw line.
Skin fires up along waters in motion
A query comes in, hailed to modern dame
The rant of the fragile spurs his notion
Though excuse me, could not join your game.
Flushed and away from taking the crisp pledge
I sway to the tune of compelling tracks
Heretofore, an act that I must not hedge
Straight outside where the dazed fragile relaxed.
From pedals and licks to favored genre
The familiarity is round-the-clock
Surplus existence is not a contra
Evanescence of the soul comes to knock.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
Drop out of sight; I think I will be fine.
First shot - a lustrous rust from ripe wonder
The seven, battled the craft of reason
Second shot - a mind’s eye leads to blunder
The two, tempted for the sake of season.
Allured to the voice of inviting mischief
A seal that is all but butterfly kiss
Dries the dearest out beyond disbelief
Enough of it calls the shots of mere bliss.
Gasp of steamy air echoes out of range
Lingering for the deep touch of desire
Vague urge gives in to an enticing change
Tender strokes spring from the poise we aspire.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
The fragile climbed the capstone; likewise, mine.
The first blush rises above horizon
As the three sheets to the wind tiptoed well
Being caught in a fly-by-night zion
Upstairs is under one’s wing from the spell.
Scruffy yet born with bewitching feature
Voice endowed with suavity sweeps off feet
Mesmeric eyes that can cause mild seizure
Dear me now, could not stare or even greet.
The four, smoothed the way back to how things charm
Others remained; clueless of what took shape
Swan song by the fragile got my cheek warm
Treated this breathing space as sweet escape.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
Still and all, an open-and-shut draw line.
At last the summer’s here, I think for good!
And winter’s snow can stay where it belongs -
atop the mountains! In my neighborhood,
each night I hear our newest neighbors’ songs.
The birds that have been settling in since spring
and building nests inside our lovely trees
delight me, for I love to hear them sing
while I am sitting in the evening breeze.
I went behind my house this Saturday,
and there beside the chain link fence I found
a robin-redbreast, whose stiff body lay
where grass is getting yellow all around.
Oh, what cruel fate for one since early June
had sung for us beneath this summer’s moon!
Written Saturday, June 8, 2013
for the Summer Contest of Francine Roberts
I sat on the jetty waiting as I did each Friday night
The man in the moon winked at me as thin clouds were passing by
My parents could not condone our love, his skin so dark, mine light
Our steamy, summer love was intense and his approach was nigh
Moonbeams peeked out and lit his trim figure as he crossed the sand
Quickly I rose and crossed the rocks to greet him with an embrace
Tenderly we kissed, then he withdrew, placed something in my hand
He said, “We’ve waited far too long; our love they cannot erase”
‘Twas then the full moon lit the beach; I saw tears fall from his eyes
A diamond ring he slipped on my finger, said, “We must elope”
We were just teens but already knew that true love never dies
“Without you in my life,” he whispered, “I simply cannot cope”
I clung to him, crying aloud, knowing my parents I’d miss
But we ignored their prejudice, opting for passionate bliss
* For Constance’s Steamy, Summer Love contest
On summer moors the sea waves splash for years
the shadows draw upon the walls festoons
unspoken verse, conceived on silent piers,
the advent of our loneliness attunes.
That day of June remained our only feast
and minds' ascension to the astral reign,
blooms' multitude of fragrances released,
a purple thistle on the field and rain.
Remember me when lone stars shine and laugh,
hands held because of June's reminding call,
we celebrate this night on lonely wharf
and acanthine of solitude's dance hall.
...On every tenth of June my eyes embrace,
above the summer moors, your lines of face.
© 06-14-2013, G.V. All rights reserved
Giggle dancing vanities around bonfires your funny fancies, hula skirt feigning moves with floras and flowers I had dedicated unto your chocolate tresses of hair waltzing beside you my own flames circled about flickering ablaze upon your delicate and subtle grooves
Tracing, painting, the gentle touching your camberous and my muscular frame, creating endless, countless new ways of whispering, feelings, revealing our deepest, darkest secrets swallowing, consuming each other, dissolving all our pains
Offerings, submissions of stripping naked hearts, placing you upon a pedestal you leaping back down into my arms, crawling, veiling myself within the inferno, you cocooning vulnerabilities exposing your wonders, endowments, captivation of your devoting arts
Your majestic soft smiles blowing kisses to my face , sun rising, the Aprils, the Mays, the Junes, sunset bowing with grace, silks and supple of my princess, my goddess one day soon vanishing an apparition over the twilight shimmering dunes
Exodus grandeur, an angel exiting from a scene, the years hiding you away oft in my dreams, hoping, praying, believing that another time another day, bumping into meet, finding each other again, a reunion of union, marrying in another lost summer retreat
The lost summer fog, the misting ocean’s spray whisking returning a lost essence upon our sacred,consecrated domain, analogous subsiding tides, gulls fly off, sea grass evaporating, the shifting dunes our memoirs have all but eroded away
Memories, reminiscences of two naïve, innocent youthful hearts, and lost summers blissfully buried treasures, fondest here remain testimonies reigniting renaissance adolescent wildfire sparks
daffodils spinning heads wind scents lovely smell
roses bedded different accent emphasizes
tulips are so colorful and bright accentuate
élites amongst the bushes and scrubs
placed on the table in budvases to adorn
treasures at this June garden party
PENNED ON JUNE 29, 2014!
Moon stops a while, glides motionless,
twinkling stars hide and seek, in silent glee,
soft, sweet summer breeze, gently rustles,
fragrance of lavender, wafts in the innocent air,
black night dances along, unfolds tenderly,
Listening to the silent song of the night,
we lay together on the grass, delightfully,
her head nestling on my arm, hands clasping my shirt tightly,
she moves a bit, tenderly, enraptured in some beautiful dream,
sweet summer breeze flows along, caressing tenderly.
She stirs a bit, awakens slowly,
smiling shyly, beautiful doe eyes look into mine,
our hands touch, silky skin in radiant glow,
we turn, lips touching, slowly, delicately,
she sighs, comes closer, snuggling in once again,
beautiful black night dances along, lingering tenderly.
© Avijeet Das
The poet met the player in summer
When the days are long and the roses bloom
She rhymed the word summer with lover
And he smiled as his strings he tuned
The poet loved the player in autumn
When the trees turn as golden as sunbeams
And the player strummed and sang of freedom
And the poet compared him to a dream
The poet missed the player in winter
When distances seem to grow with the cold
There's much merit in words, but cold fingers
Do so beg for a lover's hand to hold
But the poet gave the player her heart
And that is the way the sweetest songs start
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more grating and much more vile.
Foul winds do exit your own mouth today,
Makes me want to put you to sleep awhile.
Sometimes I’d slice some sort of soft sausage,
And often wish it was in fact your face;
Every incision, precision and rage.
I run away as fast, as thou keeps pace.
But the eternal pain in ass of mine
Which thou creates, for thou art a big toad;
Even to death’s eye would thou bring him brine,
Refusing you entrance to his abode.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, men will come to hate thee.
All those last days I felt the summer's blues
around the garden, where the bitter time
flies past in butterflies with heavy wings,
all drunk from scent the roses left behind.
The dragonflies seem bolder than in May,
their flight aims higher,
yet their life seems shorter.
I see a chrysalis, a corpse in disarray
exposed and hanging on the spiky reeds.
The first leaves start to fall, the mushroom rise
too early now. Will autumn overrun?
And will it stay? How long? The race goes on.
I wonder if the scented lilac dares
to unfold petals early, cheat the time,
escape from summer's hold and open soon?