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Best August Poems

Below are the all-time best August poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of august poems written by PoetrySoup members

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August Wind by Aloysius, Saumya
august 26 2015 by born, hell
August Moon by Barry, Stephen
Socrates - august penned poems by ROBERTS, SEREN
Late August by Robinson, Lora
Due in August by hunjeri, njeri
August Sun by Richards, Carrie
Night Of The August Moon by Lindley, Robert
August rains by fleming, john
THOUGHTS OF AUGUST by Ashton, Darryl

View all new August Poems

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The Best August Poems

Details | August Poem | |

August rains

The steadily falling cold August rains
Continue to pour upon Cheshires lanes;
over flattening fields of soddened wheat,
Soaking the grass, splashing the feet.

Stands the Combine in the shed,
The unripened apples hanging rosy red,
Stands the caped heron all alone;
The glinting eye as cold as stone.

And in amongst the many puddles
We step around like our troubles - 
So lurch ahead with our retreat
Like drunken fools in the street.

And through this months darkly frowns
The cleansing downpours wash the towns;
Scrubs the spire from ingrained time,
Absolves the guilt from the crime.

Copyright © john fleming

More great poems below...

Details | August Poem | |

I dreamed a dream of You

Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!

And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.

You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!

Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!

You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!

I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.

Yet I had left.

One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.

Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.

Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.

The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.

You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.

I dreamed a dream of you.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski

Details | August Poem | |

Far beyond your absence,my sombre heart seeks

For publishing

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop

Details | August Poem | |

Hate Provokes Hate

Children run as jets rip the sky,
for death pilots every flight tonight.
And fearing that their loved ones may die,
panicky people scatter in fright.

Faith harboring hate levies steep tolls,
in the struggle of east versus west.
For martyrs possess revengeful souls,
to which human bombs can attest.
When the sting of a bullet takes life,
killing's not a personal affair.
Yet severing off heads with a knife,
unleashes reality’s nightmare.

Standing on arrogance we feel tall,
till a mine strikes with its shrapnel bite.
And sold on right we think we can’t fall,
yet a boy lays dead lost in this fight.

Innocent blood spills upon the sands,
when kids are casualties of war.
And God fearing souls wash crimson hands,
never knowing what their child died for.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Details | August Poem | |

Shards Of Insanity

Self harming is a shipwreck
anchored in deep depression.
And happiness, but a ghost
that’s fleeting and elusive.

Victims of abuse, reject
trite platitudes of pity.
For the pain they feel is real,
lingering inside for years.

Shards of insanity cut
into insignificance.
And alter reality,
fueling agitation.

Sparked by emotional need
adrenalin ignites nerves.
And only cutting can dull
the edge of anxiety.

The pounding beat of your heart,
accompanies blade to flesh. 
And yet for a chance to feel,
you entertain submission.

Relief regulates the flow
of fire fleeing from your vein. 
And you somehow come alive,
as endorphins numb the pain.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Details | August Poem | |

Lost To Dementia

Night of the dark soul 
demons infiltrate, 
patrolling the path
to oblivion. 

Your mind’s a fragile  
dysfunctional place,
that is under siege
and cannot be saved.

As reality 
morphs into a dream,
sanity slowly
starts to slip away.

And a part of you’s
lost to dementia,
confusion lurking
behind every thought.

Hope is depleted
only time exists,
as your lonely heart
cries out for a friend.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Details | August Poem | |

Loneliness Smothers

Devastated by betrayal,
I am reeling from its sting.
And left in abject solitude,
I struggle alone with my pain.

I hear the thumping of my heart,
dismantling dreams with each beat. 
And my pulse is garishly loud,
racing to accommodate fear.

My teary eyes scan the skies,
to wish upon a shooting star.
And yet tears reduce their magic,
to sparkling specks of dying light.

Sadness saturates my being,
much deeper than ever before.
And loneliness smothers my soul,
entombed in the sound of silence.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Details | August Poem | |

You Need Only Believe

When passion's flame met its demise,
its death gave rise to empty smoke.
And although it held little weight,
it crushed your heart until it broke.

Love was weaned on uncertainty,
for emotions carry a cost.
And within your fantasy realm,
the reality of now's lost.

The hours slowly morph into days
that drift into forevermore.
And struggling with anxiety,
you seek memories to explore.

A face from the past sparks a smile,
remembering a time of love.
And you revisit yesterdays,
to recall what dreams were made of.

Love’s magic is spontaneous,
sparks simply ignite in the heart.
Yet they’re quickly extinguished 
when feelings of rejection start.

Time takes you past the piercing pain,
letting your dreams and hopes renew.
For you will fall in love once more,
you need only believe in you.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Details | August Poem | |

While You Sleep

While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly 
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.

Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel, 
And so before it I choose to kneel.

I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.

I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.

I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.

My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs

Details | August Poem | |

Beautiful people

People make me smile the way 
their eyes shine when they talk 
about something they love 
when they feed me food. Or tell 
me how much they love me 
when I look into someone's 
eyes and see it I see that look 
in their eyes I see love in them 
When I see someone laugh and 
have fun in what they do 
The way they cry for there lost 
When they give me a smile and 
tell me how beautiful I am 
People are beautiful well some 
are and I wish someday I can 
find someone who will look at 
me and say "you have that look 
in your eye"    what look?
I want to find someone so 
beautiful in the inside I can't 
stay away they amaze me with 
what they say an do how they 
will dance in the rain and know 
every detail about me
Will bring me Starbucks on a 
rainy day and just talk about 
the stars 
I want someone beautiful

Copyright © brittney lopez

Details | August Poem | |

My Son Moon and Star

            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | August Poem | |

Willie Wagtail

Willie Wagtail

Willie wagtail wakes the morning
With his song outside my room
He tells me that the day is dawning
And sings away all shades of gloom.

Lovely bird, back black and shiny
With his belly creamy white 
He sits there on a roof so finely
Giving my Soul sweet delight
‘Morning’s here’ his song is singing
Every note so loud and clear
As his song to me is bringing
A feeling oh, so sweet and dear.

26 August 2013 @ 0657hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | August Poem | |

My Lady

"I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it is my gift to you . . ."

                                                            A Rambling Poet

My lady is the wind’s soft sigh Through fields of marigolds in June, A beach night stroll beneath the moon, A cloudless sky, a butterfly. She waltzes to a rhapsody And lifts her voice soulfully. My lady is. . . A splendid sunset in July As two soared high in a balloon. The bliss we tasted, you and I, Against a bright sky streaked maroon, Is almost like a fantasy Which lingers in my memory. My lady is. . . A tranquil August lullaby, The ocean’s sound along a dune, A dragonfly, a blue jay’s cry, A lazy daisy afternoon Till Autumn brings new poetry; Then long warm nights soon cease to be, And months of Winter’s chill ensue. My lady is the wind’s soft sigh Through fields of marigolds in June, A splendid sunset in July, A tranquil August lullaby. She waltzes to a rhapsody Which lingers in my memory. When months of Winter’s chill ensue, I’ve bid my Lady Love adieu.
Andrea Dietrich For the Contest of Constance La France ~A Rambling Poet~ "Writing in the Sublime"

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | August Poem | |


Procrastination hurled its clubs
And retrieved all the master plans
In the thought of tomorrow which 
Is still young and fresh to emerge.
So you succumbed to its fire blazing fist 
And quit to begin the next day.
The day died in tears, rejected and frustrated
Then comes tomorrow in a glorious smiles 
Filled with hopes and grace.
It was neglected just like the other tomorrow.

tomorrow died yesterday in tears.
tomorrow died yesterday in pains.
Men labour not but procrastinate.
Fear the unknown and stay day dreaming 
Wish the wish which never wish to come in vain
Can a thief steal from a thief?
Procrastination is a thief of time.

What ever you desire to do
Do it now and never wait for tomorrow .
Yesterday and today were just like tomorrow 
Which would still die in sorrow if the 
Soul is not watered bravely.

so climb the mountains for the treasures.
Go to the river and hook up the fishes and dry them.
Visit the ants for wisdom and understanding.
Sound the drums of bravery
Let the blinds men walk and dance with no one by their side.
Chase away procrastination and welcome effective act,
There is always a smile of faces on the birth of a new day.

Copyright © john chizoba vincent

Details | August Poem | |

Fading from life

it’s always august’s end
september’s beginning
that bothers me the most

i feel that brush of cool air
press against me
like a kiss on dead lips

the trees are now painted 
a sunset’s reflection
but all i see is red
in summer’s end

the leaves dance gracefully
beneath the winds
one last time
before they fall

the trees will soon stand 
blank of life
like you and you and you
and my mind
as i remember
each ending
as i watched them 
fall from life
amongst summer’s end


Copyright © Sandra Adams

Details | August Poem | |

August 23rd

" I remember that day
As clear as the crystal springs in June"
only it wasn't June, It was August
the morning air was thick like smoke
it choked me awake

the first blush of day
flushed across the sky
blood red clouds 
colored her path

I lay still
like the air
without a hint
of summer's wind

the clock on the wall
tormented me 
with the tick, tock,
tick, tock,
its bony hands
seemed to skip along
until I arose from bed

I sipped on coffee
as I took in the news
unsure what my day would bring

...and then I could hear a buzz
as if a fly was making circles
beside the bed, then a ring, ring, 
ring echoed within my purse

I stared at the clock
my heart began to beat
faster then time

was it my father
did something happen
I worried as I listened

the voice
was indistinct
as if being choked

I struggled
with my ears
to make sense
of the words
that fell

...and then silence
fell all around
as if deaf
and mute
unable to process
and conceive
the message

my brother,
who turned 49
just the day before
was breathless
like the august wind

no more jokes
or laughter
or candles atop cake

his wick had burned out
within that last breath of air
and it burns, slow
as the years pass
still to this day
yet I'll remember that day
forever more....

pick a line contest
Mustapha Mohammed
"Reflections when the summer breathes"

Sandy Adams  8-22-2013

Copyright © Sandra Adams

Details | August Poem | |

Designed For More

Hope resurrects dying dreams,
in towers of steel and glass.
Yet technology breeds greed,
and no one gets a free pass.

Hunger stocks reality,
armed with the pain that it brings.
And edging insanity,
puppets dance in tangled strings.

Amidst high society,
beggars simply don’t exist.
For hidden out of sight they
get just enough to subsist.

The homeless frighten the rich,
trained in the art of deceit.
For they just can’t understand,
why people live on the street.

Rich families nestled safe,
don't worry about the poor.
And yet the tragedy is,
that Man was designed for more.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Details | August Poem | |

Onoff the cuff

I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a 
poetic practical pompous, pro  (p) ransomedramatical  pretense
pretending to prose promise a 
predictive premise primotory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary  
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumulutious tillo tales of taudry 
banal blog lists calling me to qualoquantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a 
breach bridgeborn badgebilled
barometrer bearing broad billboard
catanonic catashrospies creating caustic crill 
coffinistic coffiures cantonizing
socio unsetteling  leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid  livid liquiditoria regal
ransome based regalia resonnating
rawbone residual retinal real time 
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew 
mold molelicular mamsypamsy sillopsuedo master of 
ever me present I , me , mine, miestro 
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the 
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u 
me us our belief shistem radical of our primal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant meanfulness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit verpresent to keep the fecal faces free of 
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place. 
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting. 
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly knodding to the primo postive
practitudes of acoustic anciliary annotated awareness,  allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willifully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it, 
share it,  beware it, conquer it, it. Know it  it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and  will its it and
ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its 
illogical inness so as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.  
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.

Copyright © Dave Collins

Details | August Poem | |

Scent of Talcum

    A humid afternoon , in the middle of August,  has nothing much to commend about it.  I can hear the humming of air conditioning coming from both sides of a familiar old street.   It's too hot for even the ardent gardener to be out and about, and sidewalks are deserted, while children are herded into backyard wading pools. Clouds are softly framed in bands of charcoal grey.  
I stand on the corner, waiting for the light to change, and waiting for cars to allow me to cross the street.

rush hour traffic...
bees circle the elm trees with
no notice of me

     I approach the old Victorian, and can't help but notice how painted shutters need repair, and the garden needs weeding, with devil-grass taking over the wind-whipped faces of dreary, old zinnias. Seeing it so unkempt, makes me a little sad  
   Drooping over the sidewalk, thirsty roses lean over to greet me, as I ring the bell.  A dear old woman opens the door, and suddenly, with unbridled joy, sparkling eyes, leathery old face, that crinkles into delight, my gloomy mood evaporates, like a freshly-washed springtime day,....and I'm quickly ushered into the talcum-scented foyer of friendship. 

a wilted blossom
still beautiful in my palm....
new lines in her face

7/19/15  For Contest Sponsored by Scott Thirtyseven 

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | August Poem | |

Summer Nights in the South

Summer Nights in the South Green fireflies blink in the quiet of night and our sleeping old dog heaves a sigh. Dreaming, she sprints through a youthful blue sky chasing delicate clouds, cotton-white. A red-sunset tanager* colors the warm air from a perch in the majestic oak limbs above professing by lullaby, sincerely devoted love, like some sublimely recited evening prayer. I lay back and smile, through the leaves, at the moon to the sound of crops rippling in the breeze thinking how precious are nights such as these when alone, with the Earth I commune.
*Summer Tanagers (Piranga rubra) are native to the southern U.S. but are not true tanagers. They are actually members of the cardinal family. 08/01/15 Submission for Contest: Nature Poems Only Hosted by: Shadow Hamilton

Copyright © The Grahamburglar

Details | August Poem | |

Sailing On Dry Land

Searching through the memories lost deep within my heart.
Of someone I no longer know that long ago did part.
The mornings gathered years of dust.
As the future I no longer trust.

Embracing tides that washed away.
That dust that gathered in the day.
Left empty slates to start anew.
But emptiness is all that grew.

Another page of lost horizons on an empty sea.
Where faded hues of daily blues continue inside me.
Weathered and forgotten in a voyage all alone.
The search for love inside a heart of someone that's unknown.

The curtains made of paper lace.
Uncertain shades we try to trace.
So quick to change in daily light.
As we try to win this losing fight.

A long goodbye as time moves on.
To catch up with a renewed dawn.
As Angels guide us to our moors.
To help us through these unknown doors.

Copyright © robert johnson

Details | August Poem | |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm

Copyright © brittney lopez

Details | August Poem | |

2009: My Senior Year

  The first day of school I had not yet come to grips with what being a senior was. To me, this was just another year and another grade level. One day, when I was on my way to school, it hit me that this was my last August and my last September not only in this academy, but in high school. This was my last leg of the race and my last time making memories here. A new beginning of my life is waiting for me not in years, but in just a few months. 


                                                   ©2013 Honestly JT

Note: My English teacher gave us an assignment to start writing about our life experiences so that one day we could possibly have autobiographies of our own.

Copyright © Honestly J.T.

Details | August Poem | |

leaving August

        Leaving the last days of August
          memories of the sea waves crashing 
        Tides that leave shells broken to find ~
        picnic memories ~
                      fireworks night 
                             Birthday cakes sparkle ~

    sunburns under a sage kissed dessert Moonlight 
         The Summer reminds us of happier days
             scents of coconut oil and lime 
            reminds us all of what is yet to come ~
              The rain comes down hard
          crying for all souls lost and left behind

             The birds fly in perfect form 
           reminding all of the September storm 
           begging for history not to repeat ~
                 ~   In war 
                        no wins 
                            only defeat ~
            two beams of light straight to the Heavens   
                stay through the whole month of September
                   they remind us to listen silently we stand still 
          For the city lives and breaths left with loss 
                    many questions unanswered remain ~
               Leaving behind August
                    entering Septembers fears ~

 I love this poem because it reflects on the past and the coming month in remembrance of history that took place September 11th 2001. In a way it is a oxymoron . from passionate summer nights to the fear embraced in the month coming :)


Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | August Poem | |

As Time Goes on

The days of March are dark and drear.
In April rain clouds still appear.
By May the weatherman we cheer,
And June is here, and June is here.

July brings forth the perfect rose.
In August we take off our clothes.
September we must don our hose,
And summer goes, and summer goes.

October the cool breezes blow.
November brings a hint of snow.
December time is all aglow,
Bright gifts with bow, bright gifts with bow.

In January a deep freeze.
Small February is a tease.
Bold March once more will try to please.
Time to plant peas, time to plant peas.


Copyright © Joyce Johnson