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.
Oh, summer sun, all winter I have missed
your stale hot breath upon my upturned face;
your tongue that seers my flesh as I unlace
the strings on my bikini. I am kissed
by sultry lips that burn. I can’t resist!
I bask in light of day, and I embrace
Your penetrating rays that find each space
of skin exposed. I wait and plan my tryst.
And when you come, I’ll reverence you once more,
supine, as you would have me, to receive
your torrid touch as token of your lust.
In June we’ll meet as always by the lakeshore.
I should not go. So well you can deceive.
Some lovers you have killed! Yet still I trust. . .
*For A Rambling Poet's Scavenger Hunt Contest
This poem emulates the lovely haiku called
"dappled sun," (6/9) and also it is a love poem
for summer much like Constance's Senryu
"Winter Love" is her love affair with winter.
A child needs a place where he can run
unhindered by some wooden fence or wire.
He needs a spot beneath the summer sun,
a peaceful breeze to soothe him should he tire.
He understands the time to pause in play;
to rest upon a hill and thus renew;
to study clouds that fleck the azure skyway
until they rearrange and pass from view.
A child wants to laugh and taste and see;
to hear a rushing stream; to twirl and leap;
to dip bare feet in mud; hide in a tree
and greet the stars before he has to sleep.
A child sheltered from the sun's caress
grows pale and little knows of happiness.
For Francine Robert's "Barefoot" poetry Contest
So whimsical was that fine summer’s day,
Radiant one moment and dull the next.
So tenacious was that fine summer’s day,
The day spanned long, and the night watched, perplexed.
O here comes July, the height of summer,
Cicadas sing and young pink daisies dance.
Alas, cyclamens blossom and summer
Grows dumber; the sky’s tears fall in a trance.
Erelong, ere we know it, August creeps in,
A chill seeps through and the cold comes drifting.
Like a storm, a tempest, August sweeps in,
Summer packs up – wait, where are you going?
The summer meant naught to last, however,
The season turns; nothing lasts forever.
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
Moonlit sky, shining stars, and the echoes of frogs
Amazing stories told by the burning logs
Long days working have long been passed
Friends, lovers, and good times sure to last
The summer season is here to stay
Out by the hidden lake we go to play
Skipping stones and chasing dreams
Perfect times, taking life to extremes
Pack up your worries and take a chance
Grab my hand, we'll proceed to dance
A summer of love is what you need
Let go of the past, you will be freed
Drop your troubles, let's have some fun
You can't hide because I'll find you hun
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
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 be 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
With closed eyes,because this burning light,
The clouds will go beyond the golden day,
And sun will rest in your hair, a playful ray,
But blue will stretch a hand to inner sight;
Some dreams are riding yet, the friendly pony.
Neighbors: the fairy`s breasts in joyous rest;
With closed eyes, the morning wind will test
And run a bee along no time wet honey;
Old summer buried its face in gentle light and sand;
Some dreams grew like shinning clouds above
By covering the castles,then a part of our beach;
No wind to run them , except a tender hand.
The taste of salt and sea are slowly speaking love;
While changeable waves, to blond laughs reach...
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
My love, your breath, fresh as a spring breeze,
Caresses my face, with a wondrous tone,
As your sweet lips, approach mine, we moan.
For expectation, of such pleasurable tease,
For there is no time, for emotions to please,
Our brief moments, are barely, only a loan.
For passion delivers, future beautifully alone,
Our ecstasies of movements together, appease.
After spring, before the heat of summer time,
Our ardor grows; grows within each heart.
Our touch, Heavens blessing, to each other,
These moments, hours, days have no crime.
Together forever, our souls, never part,
Our spirits are free, to love; never smother.
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
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.
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
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
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.
Each summer - hurrah! We got out of school.
How much we could do outdoors to have fun.
Kickball we’d play; we’d ride bikes to the pool.
We’d spend nearly all our time in the sun.
Night time would find us outside our homes too
with siblings or with the neighborhood throng.
Sun lingered and there was still much to do
as evenings grew cool and shadows grew long. . . .
And just before dark enveloped the day,
something would come that enthralled me the most -
small creatures that flitted every which way -
each blinking, then vanishing like a ghost.
I miss seeing fireflies, for it was grand
to catch and then hold one inside my hand.
Written Aug. 29, 2012
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...
Summer breezes gently
Brushes against my face
Sunlight teases my eyes
Bouquet of fragrances to my nose
Guides me to my garden
Its there I find my peace
Eagerly stepping onto glistening dewy grass
Placing myself among the copious of blooms
I sit beneath my maple tree upon a rattan chair
I sip my tea, I breathe in my solitaire
They don’t seem to mind
My company spends time
Creating the sounds of summer
My buzzing bees they notice me
And thank me for pink Peonies
Butterflies like swimming high
Above their purple Buddleia
Kissing nectar for their breakfast
As fragrant aromas surrounds me
Infusing my tea while I see
A white blossom tree
Good Morning Dragonfly perching upon his Goldenrod
Shimmering purple through his transparent wings
Dancing to the waterfall like a King
Dawn brings the cooing voice
Of music from the Dove
Hummingbirds flying backwards
Display their iridescent plumage
Drinking sweetness from the trumpets
Blackbirds flying downward
Yellow beaks hunting
Consuming food from falling seeds
Vibrant colors all around
Pleasant sounds resounding
Grandstand of fragrances
I refreshingly embrace
A reception of hospitality
Welcome to my Garden Party
Her skirt white as silk billowed in the breeze
of fragrance, costly as the boats in the bay,
danced passed me a zephyr of summer love.
Sky blue eyes looked beyond me and far;
a ripple of contented laughter followed her.
She wore an exquisite aroma of splendour,
the holy who don´t know the price of bread.
So white her smile, so red her lips.
She entered a Lamborghini, golden tanned its
driver was, and she was hit by arrows of love
She sat in her room, her dress crumbled, tears
ran down her rosy chin, she, a seamstress with
a borrowed dress, had flown too near the sun,
a butterfly with broken wings and lost illusion.
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
She is as the summer rain soft as silk.
That pours across the plains like morning dew.
To quench the lovers thirst with gentle milk,
Enchants us with the taste of something new.
For as we take her pleasure to our lips,
And lose ourselves within her fragrant sway,
We find our senses dulled between the sips,
Upon the rapture drunk from loves bouquet.
Yet as she falls the summer sun relents,
But for a while until it burns anew,
And everything that's dreamt is ever spent,
To vanish in the mist as morning dew.
For summer rains that gently moist the air,
Beguiles the lovers heart then disappears.
Summer’s back! And there’s my gorgeous girl now.
Finally, today’s day becomes longer.
To your golden Graciousness, I humbly bow.
Frozen I’ve stood since last that I saw her
Smelling of plum blossoms, her skin so sweet.
Hot days, hot nights. In your lakes I will play.
For three seasons I’ve missed your sticky heat,
Promise me, my Summer, this time you’ll stay.
My heart fears anew that grey days will come,
That your leaves will again turn to goodbyes.
You will go, turn back to where you came from,
To the land of full moons and starry skies.
Summer, only three months, I know, I know.
Tell me that you’ll take this reunion slow.
What a wonderful power you have got, Summer!
Religious ceremonies and marriages are over
Schools and universities’ vacations are over
O’ Summer I like you though you make us to suffer.
August and September are memories of the dear
But the days are still warm and stern, still to clear
Brides married in May and June return with cheers
To their future homes-to-be, to be endeared.
Summer’s last messages in August about to disappear
Silly September days, by all its signs are here.
Before we are given away to winter as brides with tears
Enjoy summer’s happy memories, autumn’s best cheers.
Above in the clear sky the stars twinkle at each other
Below on terraces, newly married sleep and whisper.
A repost: June 14, 2014
Form : Contemporary Sonnet
Contest: One Word Title by Skat-A
September First, 2013
Dr. Ram Mehta
May and June are the hottest months in India and rainfall varies from area to area.
But still most of marriages take place during these months. Then the bride stays for some days with her in-laws and then comes back to her parents. On the 2nd day of Aushadh, i.e. nearly August, the bride returns to her home-to-be.
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
The wind turns rustling the reddish-brown leaves.
Trees stand devoid of their cover and howl
Like bathers caught without a green towel.
The wind turns, the arctic soul misconceives.
The snows pile up around my silver car.
Outraged the trees thrash and howl in the wind
Smarting like young children regimented.
The snows pile up; the heart is as stones are.
The iris bloom, couples old, young elope.
Buds develop forth from bare twigs and grow,
A bald man farming a new luscious mo.
The iris bloom, the heart feels raptured hope.
The grass browns the dams are slowly emptied.
Branches hang drooping in the severe sun,
Young mothers at their hot sinks deflated.
The grass browns the heart resigns abandoned.
You seduce others, caress them and give
Love, mine remains fervent and I forgive.
When summer pierces earth and dying root,
And winds, the golden-honeyed flowers sweep,
And liquor rays bathe every bud and shoot,
Newly awakened from the depths of sleep,
When pollen springs forth in white, seasoned clouds,
Miasmic dreams, like visions, pure and sweet,
When gentle rainy mist the land enshrouds,
And tiptoes cross the meads on silent feet,
When sweet, ambrosial bloom shall sprout and bud,
And throw their dreamy breaths to weave a sigh
And cast their milky sap, and sport sweet blood,
And touch the Heavens that lurk in the sky,
It’s time, when fresh and pure is all of love
But still I worry, for the seasons move
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov