Oh I am but a simple leaf
withering within the gutter
one summer of bliss
now! Just an autumn flutter.
For some; destine to fall
upon stony ground, a part
of life’s infernal gyration.
Yet for those that fall
within your reach, to live
on within your soul!
While limbs that stretch
towards the solstice, create
vivacious veins as channels of hope,
a pledge of foliation continues
to endure what spring has
furnished; autumn expires.
Yes! If we can but learn
from nature’s complex simplicity,
that life be of a cycle
from the seed we are conceived,
then let spring be my beginning
winter my exultant eve!
Let our two cultures
merge as one, the
to become the sustenance;
our transfusion the
Let us breathe the
fragrance of born again;
let each slender limb,
stout body bear our
tenaciousness, each lyrical
leaf our life’s blood.
Let us mollycoddle each
precious tear that falls from a
angry sky; dance gracefully
upon the wind, embrace
on moonless nights, bathe
in summer madness.
Let us hear the bluebell call,
the daffodil pray, the apple
blossom bear witness; the
clamour of the field mouse
the pitapat of the butterfly
the silence of lovers in love.
Let us be sanctuary to the
symbolic songstress, scuttling
squirrel, vulgar urchin;
a fortress for the warrior
a haven for the pacifist
an inspiration for the poet!
The call of springtime
we will invoke,
we will gladly choke;
“This! Obliging old oak.”
© Harry J Horsman 2000
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2010
SUMMER’S END *
Down her meadow’s sweetness
By name of Summer’s End
This smallish thatch work cottage
With it’s proper artful sign
Hung at eaves with slightest tilt
By portal in decline
Should some young and searching pair
Choose certain bend of woods
And come upon the scene by chance
Imagine now their fond surprise
That first adoring glance
She’s not so much sad longing
As a fixed point of warmth
Her leaves but yellowed barely
Far distant hills all purplish glaze
It’s Summer’s End for keeping
Till a good life’s end of days
* Correction - thatch work cottage. Thanks to Keith Logan for the correction
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2016
"This is dedicated to all who understand this. Whether we like it or not." -D.J.E.
I wasn’t gonna write this
Emotions are stirring high
How much time has passed
Still feel your presence
Of the slowest death
To these present seconds
An ugly revelation
Tainted the sunshine
That bared on our souls
365 days ago
So many tears
Had filled the ocean
For love’s river
Were held back by presumption’s walls
The dam’s of what could have been
Here I stand
In this present moment
Your essence still lingers
Like the flakes of a dandelion b r e a k i n g f r e e
From its home
Tormented echoes of “why”
“Please don’t go”
“I love you…I love you so much”
High pitched resonations
Rafts of secondary importance
This heart still knows
For it will always recall
Played me a fool
While you held hands
Across my shoulders
Left me uncomfortably numb
All my rights
And all the while
My foolish hopes
Continued to warp my mind
Maybe if I didn’t look back when you walked away
Like the rules said…
These soft acoustic riffs
Replay in my head
You were my “Wonderwall”
“You could’ve been the one…to save me”
But I overcame
Didn’t want to be an inconvenience for you
Colors of Fall
Your favorite season
You were like Summer & Winter
Knew when to turn up the heat
Make me sweat
Each new arrival
A summer equinox
But, when it was over
Nothing but cold
Even solace’s bandages
Could not heal
But, I weathered the storm
And would do it again
Cause it was for real
Here I am
52 weeks have past
Of that hourglass
With no more sands
Buried in dragon’s chest
You are in my silent prayer
Even though you are contained
Within my heart’s asylum cell block home
I loved you
With all that I had
That you will be the only regret
I will ever be proud of.
© Drake J. Eszes
Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2011
autumn is here.
of the rain
and blossoms spring.
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
the sand sculptures
a childhood summer past.
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.
in the glee,
in the hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
~Without suntan lotion~
The balloon man silently left the park
Where are all the jump rope kids?
The hopscotch sidewalk is slowly fading
The children are covered in sweat
I see dried pecan trees, everyone fights for the fountain turn
Where are all the pretty flowers, why do the swings sit alone?
Why must it hurt -the sun -the burn -the tan,
Must it be summer all over again?
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
The crunch of snow under trudging feet
A breath of white, a darkened sky
Eyes near closed from sting of cold
She dreams of summer days
With each small step, that leaves it's mark
Upon the white
In dreamy state, where daydreams play
From cold, away from chill, from ice upon the hills..
Her thoughts, they bide, for summer days,
and dreams that take the cold away
She finds herself so far away, a place
Where weeping willows brush her face
Bending 'neath the branches low
While walking on a garden's path
Grass gently sways, green as glass
So timid blows the warming breeze,
It fetches shining hair with ease
The wisps of gold which fly astray,
Like meadow flowers, in yellow maize
A melody of larks that sing
An amber sun, a basking glow, that ambles by
To warm a face so pale from winter's sunless sky
Until once more the breath of chill upon a cheek
And snowflake on her lash
Startles cold, like morning ash, returning eyes to winter's cry
A cold north wind that catches scarf
A thief that snatches warmth away, and thus her dream
And now awake, she sighs, ...to find it still,... the winter day
Yet distantly, there lies in wait, a springtime place, a promised fate
A path beneath the willow tree, where sun peeks through the velvet haze
Where flowers bloom and meadows grow, and larks sing lovely lullabies
The earth will wake, new walks to take.. and be, not a dream...
But a day to praise
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Submitted for Constance's "A Walk to Remember" contest....
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
When I was a girl, still on the island
I’d sit in the sand
in what I thought was utter enlightenment
a teenage rebel
with dime-store refinement
We were all this way, and there is no shame
In the unchecked mind of us in our prime
The best nights of those
When the sea was calm and
The moon was out and
Blazingly bright, it would light up the night
Set the whole ocean glowing
Like a deep inky opal
Translucent abyss of black
With an iridescent waltz of electric blue, neon purple, alien green, and diamond white
It was on these nights
That I’d get in the water
By some stunning feat of abrasive wave action
Or possibly some secret dolphin magic
A tide pool would arise
A lagoon off the shore
Drifting and shifting over the course
Of a week, maybe two
Drifting out, drifting in
Widening out, slimming in
Shallow enough to sit in at dawn
Submerged to my neck at the day’s final yawn
Defiant of the perpetuity of the ocean at large
A toy trench off the shore
Spanning the length of a whale
Sometimes less, sometimes more
My own nascent Marianas
Never failed to provide
An off-shore haven where I could reside
These transient channels, clear and serene
Cut off from the rest of the sea
By a vast steppe of water, ankle deep
Separating me in my watery kingdom
Where no monstrous creature of the deep could reach
Out and out that plain stretched
(Only once did I test it)
Till that clean sandy bottom would begin its descent
Slowly at first, then quickly it went
Down to the unknown dark
Into a child queen of a tiny sea world, I’d transform
Springing up from the bottom of pulverized quartz
To shatter the surface between the water and the night
Send millions upon millions of droplets of brine
Glittering and spinning off into the night
I’d leap out my trench, onto that shallow plain
Sprint out to the edge of my earth and breathlessly gaze
out over the hidden deep
Reminded I’m only a guest
The ocean is neither mine nor yours to keep
Having drunk my fill of humility
I’d spin round
Dive back down
Into my fleeting empire, my sea of tranquility
My throne resumed, I’d splash and play
With the smile of the summer Milky Way
Shooting out of the ocean, slicing the southern sky
The universe itself keeping a loving and watchful eye
As the earth showed me exactly who she was
I’d dig my fingers into the satiny sand
And feel its realness
Every cell of my skin feeling the water rush across
As I coasted, submerged, along the bottom and lost
Myself from the rest of mankind
Then I’d rest my head back on that broad sandy mesa
Gaze up at my friends Scorpius, Aquarius, and Cassieopiea
Small ripples of water lapping at my temples
Barring defense of Descartes’ deceiving God
Not a thing in all the world could ever make me doubt
That every sensation that I felt
in those days
Was a whisper from the cosmos telling me about
The ways to be and
The ways to see and
All the states of mind that reveal
What is good, and true, and right, and real
Copyright © Carolyn Fish | Year Posted 2017
(Free Flow )
The temperature is rising
We're in the hottest days of summer
Heat and humidity in the air are soaring
Sometimes for days the rains are just pouring
This is summer with all its days full of sun and fun
People strolls the beach, and swim far beyond the sand
Beachcombers spend there their time till the sun goes down
Surfing and sunbathing is all a big part of their fun
You see children running and playing
Some are so happy building sandcastles under the sun
There are people of all ages, sexes and shapes
Some are sitting, eating and laughing till the day is undone
These are the hottest days of summer right where I live here
Living in Florida for so many people can be a lot of fun all year.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2016
The meadow lies ravaged
beneath the scorching sun,
fields covered with dust,
grasses yellow and flat,
sunflowers hang their heads.
Only dandelions survive
releasing seed into the air.
Few birds chirp, singing sad songs,
Spiders move slowly
weaving their webs.
Insects undeterred abound.
Ants carry their meager harvest
to their underground caves.
The breeze too cold,
the skies occasionally grey.
No farmer tills the land,
afraid of sweat and backaches.
No tractor sputters to life
no tools lie around,
Only a sickle is stuck upright
in the fallow land.
5 September 2017
Contest/Sponsored by Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
September is the month when summer ends.
Please write a free verse poem on your thoughts about The End of Summer.
Visual imagery is essential.
Good grammar and spelling are essential.
Date your poem.
Copyright © Black Man | Year Posted 2017
You arrive before the final count
and bring an armload full of sun
a jauncing light so full and gay
with skies refusing to de-ray
Bewitching flowers climb the trell
then paint the canvass purple green
against the August summer heat,
a bathing shade of rich replete
Late summer kisses you bestow
upon my darely shoulders bare
while skirts of flounce receive
me in, I go on fire too
Later summer, come here stay
my speck of light, you my Olay
my brace of heart my wanna be
come sleeve me in, like poetry
Come in my lovely summer Count
and be my Sermon on The Mount
my city on the hill my onely thrill
you are my light of golden filigree
You are my poetry....
Augutst 9, 2017
Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2017
Spring rain, and I am flat on the lawn:
arms spread, laughing loud.
I create snow angels without snow,
daisies watch with undisguised surprise.
Like the day, I dream in wild red of
strawberries bursting on my tongue;
petal feathers, pure radiance:
sun in sprinklers reflected prismatic rainbow
rain shower painting chromatic arrays
sing the summer colors
painted winter's grey goodbye
fly to the heavens on sunshine rays
Copyright © Sara Ella | Year Posted 2017
Summer is like bathing naked in honey
Liquid hot gold shiny sweet honey
You feel it like velvet on your skin
It fills you with wonder - sweetness and grace
Dancing in a field of timothy filled with summer scents
A gust of wind that kisses your cheek - it's summer time
Small buds on the trees - a little bird sitting in the tree and singing
Summer day suffocated by autumn crisp and cold breath
Grief catches my deepest spirit but the waves hide my tears
On my palette colors are perfect - red, yellow, orange and brown tones
The trees pray and hope - but someone has to lose for severe storms
My eyes capture the most beautiful moments
Autumn dress in beautiful colors dancing and ripples in the wind
Withered autumn leaf - no small bird sitting in the tree and singing
- A-L Andresen :) 30.08.2014
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Contest Name:Summer's End
- Thanks for my 1st place in the contest - :)
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2014
has long died;
she comes to pass.
across open yards,
blotted white -
then, one last
escapes with might
to southern breeze.
transform with ease.
slowly brighten -
in budding delight,
they sleep no more.
soft to touch,
in wake of warmth
and bubbling sounds
of children’s laughter.
Under a hearty sun,
bare feet and legs
long to lilt
as passion follows
out to taste the open air,
waiting for night
to kiss in the flush
of descending moonlight –
as shooting stars
sleep no more.
last sparks in the fireplace
cool, no longer needed
to kindle romance.
I soften to the touch
of spring dew,
the joyous music -
fresh falling rain;
taking her time
to seed waking soil
until she voraciously
like a lost love –
a restless gypsy
on a journey-
she sleeps no more.
Spring dresses earth
in liveliest colors…
and I smile,
Overwhelmed with the beauty
touching my soul
and sun showers falling
on sweetened dreams.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Inspired by a Art gallery and a poem by Shelly.
A room full of mottled multicolored butterflies
captured within a creative space
of artful design
to inspire and aspire
Flirt and flutter a delicate ballet
among the pot plants
A splash of color
among a drab row of urban gray
The door is opened
and the butterflies are released to freedom
flying high above
lush green trees
in clear unblemished skies
floating like autumn fallen leaves
in a gentle breeze
that rested on my heart for a while
and made it smile
bringing pleasure to my eye
A symbol of freedom and eternity
filling my dreams
with all the treasures of summer.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Sept.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2013
Out doors a place of freedom where
prying eyes could not restrain the vibrancy.
School’s out, summer sunshine, crisp morning light,
cuts through the fog of parental restraint.
Blue jeans, tee shirts, Keds and an orange and
black striped bumble-bee bus of
prepubescent girls off for their first day
of summer work, farm work.
Bagged and boxed lunches held tight, their
hands taped white to shield them from the
sticky yellow nicotine sap, the itch,
a rash of budding beauty among the
burgeoning rows of new stalk green.
Tobacco as far as the eye can see
rises on cane-like stalks. The furrowed
fields are uncovered now in the July sun.
Gaggles of girls in candy colors, sweet and sour girls,
tall and short girls, rows of girls among the cane.
Poled lines spanned the rows above the rising canes.
Little twisters walked the gullies tying off each plant,
around the rising stem a hairy-brown twine was laced,
between the fan shaped leaves of dollar green.
Early summer passed, coloring cheeks pink,
and skin to golden brown.
The stalks rose like seeds from Jack. By the first of
August, they’d topped the girls and the cheesecloth
shades were rolled above. Steamed in the August sun
deflowered-the children were watered and by
State Law occasionally rested and retrieved if
the temp rose past one-hundred and five below the nets.
Any bit of uncovered skin was burnt or
tarred black daily by then-harvest time.
Shooed into the darkened sheds Consolidated
on the dirt floor the stringers stood, sewing
machines with piles of slats beside them, one girl per machine
two hands, two leaves, in they went between the belted teeth
and the needle lanced. It also lanced tired fingers.
Piecework; I can’t remember the pay scale but
they called it piecework and it was too. [a fine piece of work]
It took bits of you away every day.
But in the dark, high up in the rafters, the darkies
hung the bounty, handsome black Jamaican boys
crews of boys with lilting tongues and they sang,
and we sang “Come See About me.”
We worked, and we sang “Baby Love”
It was a supreme summer.
On our own, a bloomin’ summer
where all of life was ripe for the pickin’.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014
What is ? ----- Is it ?
What is happiness ?
A hot summer day, walk barefoot in cool grass
Picking a large bouquet of summer flowers
and then merge a flower crown
Maybe get a good advice of
flower Daisies : love me, love me not,
love me, love me not.......
What is happiness ?
Listen to the frogs love song
by the small pond in the woods
Enjoy a fantastic and very light spider webs
Who can do better than the spider
See the raindrops on a leaf,
which glistens in the sun shining like jewels
Meadow which is full of yellow dots when
Buttercup is smiling and nodding
What is happiness ?
Hand in hand on charity trail
be giddy with love
A tender and gently kiss of the one you loved
The dream of a family, have children
and experience that new life is born
Living life together for better or worse
and that the device love never ends
Happiness for me is that you are here
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012
it’s always august’s end
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
as i watched them
fall from life
amongst summer’s end
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013
In starry silence and deepest sleep,
I hold vivid memories and a treasured secret
close to my heart of a long ago summer love.
Ours, was a season carved from the sun's caress,
from a sun that never set (even when the moon shone bright).
I cherished the time I held your hand, my handsome stranger.
Every waking moment was blissful and fantasies in darkness
sweetened my slumber. Our love was daring and true
but was a story never meant to be told, not even to
the icy winds blowing through my winter nights.
With you, I was lustrous in youthful glow, plucked
like a flower in morning dew, and still hungry for life
with an adventurous spirit. I called you, your warm words,
and the wild heart within them, my second home.
I was entranced by your stare; each passion-kissed day
alone with you was tethered loosely to the next
perfect, steamy day. The summer's citrus sun sprayed
light upon perfumed petals in our garden of love.
I could have pulled away before autumn's chill
but yearned to be held captive by, to know intimately,
the shackles of your love until I could no longer breathe
or desire from you more than I could give of myself.
A girl became a woman when the ripe August moon
shared its silver beams of passion in that far off, exotic place.
Brilliant in mind, it seems like yesterday but was many years ago.
As quick as you stepped into my life, you were gone,
taking with you the sultry sun and late summer moon –
you were a stranger I knew too well but not well enough
to mourn. I’m older now, busy with responsibilities.
My skin, slightly weathered, is thicker. I carry the weight
of my mistakes on my back, and still, I stand tall.
I share my strength, my love, my embrace, but
I carry the secret of you closer to my heart as I age.
Our summer memories are a part of my dreams
and the source of many misty-eyed smiles in sunlight.
For Frank's Love In A Far Off Place Contest, 7/26/15
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
the ice cream truck
do you remember in fourth grade when it was the end of the school year?
kids running around in class, volunteer parents planning for field day events, teachers grading tests.
a year's worth of crafts and colorful displays filled the walls like wallpaper.
you can hear singing from the kids in room 4b, ms. mcdonald's class.
the weather outside was a balmy 80 on this june day.
text books, paint brushes, and the obligatory pre-chewed bubble gum filled the desk cavity.
the assistant principle announces something inaudible on the speaker system.
and we are fast approaching the anticipated summer break.
summer. that's when spring lovers finally kiss and the butterflies leave their cocoon.
birds singing and the flowers are saturated with their red, blue, and pink hues.
the last day of school is finally here and the children ride the bus for the last time.
vacations. swimming pools. ocean city. the smell of hot dogs, grass and humidity.
jersey summers are hot. really hot where i grew up. you sweat just by looking out the window.
then one day, the familiar sound of circus-like music faintly approaches town.
louder and louder until everyone knows its the ice cream truck turning the street corner.
the famous mr. softee, or good humor truck, or some local self employed bearded man.
whatever it was, ice cream in all kinds, flavors, colors, and shapes was 25 yards and 25 cents away.
the music kept playing as children seemingly sprayed out of their homes in rapid succession.
a gathering soon followed with parents and children standing all against that delicious truck.
chocolate. peanut butter. vanilla. strawberry. cookies and cream. cookie dough.
sandwiches. bowls. cones. smoothies. sundays. sprinkles. nuts. oh so yummy!
i miss that ice cream truck. i miss those days...
...and i miss you just as much.
Copyright © Joey Foto | Year Posted 2013
I remember that day
As clear as the crystal springs in June
When the sun rose upon a gladsome sky
Bursting through the harbor and the fields
As soft as the buds by the quivering dew
Dancing in the blue distance.
Summer's warm and scented breath
Invaded the clustered pathway
Where the last mountain spray
Descended in your eyes
Like a constant burning fire
That glimmers like fulgent streams of spring.
You held a delicate rose
In your limpid hands kissed by the
Vast fountains of purity's grace
That greeted my eyes with coy beauty
When the day was ripe with glory .
Like a flower you blossomed in my eyes
As one who held heaven in her smile
And sweet rosebuds on her lips
That trembles in the cold
With a budding joy as new as the moon
In the fullness of the night.
You drew a few words from your sad breath
That pierced like a striking sword
When the voice of the wind echoed
Through the lilac vines
Entangled on the weeping trees
That nods in the noonday light
In the last breath of summer.
My soul sank in dejection
Wet with despair.
Anguish flashing in my aching heart
Like an untamed madness
On this boundless land .
Oh please don't leave my love
Oh please don't leave my love
Because if you do
The mortal fire in my veins
My breath would mute
And my lifeless body
Would drift me to some unknown hell
To live forever
In a helpless state of deep despair
In a desolate darkness
Of utter hopelessness!
Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2013
This was when the whole world measured time
This is when the light would turn around
This is where the past would come undone
and the spinning earth will mark a new beginning
Let's go back in time, to when it all began
To the breaking of new dawns
Where moments bright with fire, would light the chanting song
Where pagans worshipped sun, and danced among the trees
Wore strange masks of covered straw, and blessed cold ash with awe
Wreaths hung upon the door against all spirit's, dire
and when the winter's grasp let go, the sun reversed the pyre
This was when the whole world measured time
This is when the light would turn around
So that spring arrives, and seeds will sprout and grow
Oh, radiant sun, stretch the day, shorten night
Return earth's darkness into light
This is where the light will turn around
And this was where the past would come undone
5/26/16 Summer Solstice Contest Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
My tongue dares to taste
Craving a cold purified ice storm,
Trapped under a mountain of heat,
Yearning waters to cure this excessive hot weather waste
Prolonged periods that moves like a Slave
Jobless and still my body resides in a frigid lake of sweat
Brave to inhale and exhale the heat of this limbo loom.
Summer time means nothing to the gravity around
The drop of rays are killing me
One to many dry spells-
Worse than a bat out of hell
Can you feel, what I Feel?
At sea in my own body's drought.
Hot spells~ Dry wells!
What happen to cold spell?
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011
At the end of summer as the days light grows shorter,
I’ll pack up the last pains of trouble, and live every tranquil
Moment of splendors warmth that I can!
In the burnet rays of sunshine, I’ll walk serenities beach soaking
Up the sunsets, and drinking them within deeply, the color palate
Array as it splashing against the distant horizon!
Listen dearest friend can you hear the waves lapping, playfully
Snapping at the boulders of the lake, as the rippling white tides,
Seamlessly rush against the sandy shores!
In the city parks the grills sizzle with the smells of masque,
As children’s laughter fills the echoing woods with the sounds
Of childhood frolic, and the smoke of gray deliciousness calls
To their inner scenes of hunger!
Sometimes I’ll go and just watch them, and remember those simpler
Days when I was young myself, what a time of true wonderment that
Was so many years ago, I can almost hear my mother’s voice calling me,
Saying it’s time for dinner, back then in those far faded shadows not
So long ago, but it is the end of summer now!
The Canadian geese are flying south for the winter,
Stopping by for a refuel not far from the many ponds, and lakes
Nearby, how I wish I could join in those led lines so close to heaven,
To behold the magic they’ve seen on their many adventures of flight!
Many leaves begin the slow change of colors, soon autumn will be
Darning a new gown of splendors magnificence, my camera lens
Will shutter and click, to capture the wondrous changes
That Mother Nature exposes to the eyes of humanity!
In my photo album of seasons, I’ll look backwards and
Remember these special times of natural glory,
The quiet walks of solitude through the wilderness,
Those moments of special tranquility in the stilled hush
Just before sunrise!
Listening carefully, I can almost hear the songs of the morning
Sparrows awakening the birth of a new days dawning,
As it rustles in the forest pines, at the end of summer,
These are the vivid visions I will maintain always!
The chill in the winds tells me it will soon be here,
And the wintery white powder hangs heavy within
The autumn air!
Oh why does summer have to end so quickly?
My heart wishes it would last forever and a day,
But at least I have my pictures of beauty to remind me,
Of those light hearted days gone by, until the next
Year’s warmth caress my face once more.
I’ll sit here in my easy chair of remembrances, turning my
Pages of freeze frames photographs, and tenderly
Drift backwards into thoughts of warmth and laughter,
Enjoying these memories of the end of summer’s reflections!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
WRITTEN FOR MY DEAR FRIEND: Kathy Ling
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
I woke up to the rumbling sky
Of thousand hooves thundering
Through the heavens' horse race
And their dark dusty clouds
I filled my cup with dewdrops
Before the rain fell
And painted the roads black
With its sweaty sheen
The late summer day
Has just begun its rounds
As I took a sip in my dreams
Lightning’s crashing all around
Copyright © Misheel Chuluun | Year Posted 2010
Silhouette of trees dressed in chiffon prints
Oaks, pines, maples tossing their hair
I trail along their rumba curve
way down to where glazed bushes nestle.
Above roasted sail of Laguna River
crossing a moat...today, foliage begins to seethe
on flamed leaves amidst summer’s embrace,
as more timber follow a float
where mauve petals kiss the air.
The bronzing of glens and wheezing of mist
reach a coaled ember of summer fire,
cluster of moments drapes veined trunk
with sniff of earthy scent, reminding me
how lush the branches swell against heat
of August ‘s coals when two pairs of arms
brush the stars with paint of reveries.
Warm the meeting of palms fondling the barks
In a dizzy sketch of romance, and then,
Like a curl of ambrosial boughs in rumba dips,
Trees hold passion’s charade, until...
Charlotte Puddifoot's Vibrant Verse 2 Contest
- new poem
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
The Daffodil, peeks at the yellow rays of the Morning Sun
She raises her head :through the withering snow mound : with Dazzling Beauty
The Daffodil , Sings in harmony; Arise for I am : the Spring
The Golden weed, the Dandelion , reflects the yellow Halo Floating in the Sky
Knowing Life is short ,the Dandelion dots the Summer landscape
With Her Halo turning White, She calls the Wind and flies through the rays of the Sun
Goldenrod waits until summer is nigh o’er before waving elegantly
To the Yellow orb, warming her roots, She melodiously Sings Forever be Your Glory
The Goldenrod , humbly Hums Hymns : to the very Eye of a Loving GOD
Yellow Roses speak of the Memories : “watching the grass “Sportsman’s WAVE””
She sees the Glory of Nature : more Beautiful with each Magnificent : Sunrise
Yellow Roses, petals so Silky Soft, holding in “ Remembrance “ a long Lost “ LOVE “
The “ AquaRose “ that Grows, in the deep Caribbean Sea “4 miles North of Aruba”
Screams For the Sun, from her watery Grave, Yet she shines in a sea of “ Sapphire
" Blue "
The Depth of the “Blue sea, the Blue Sky above” Shadow the glow of Sweet
" Sunshine "
Inspired by the Contest : " Flowers " : Sponsored by Francine Roberts
Dedicated To my LOVES : " Barbara Jean " & " Lenore Ellen "
Author's Note : I Hope this is Read the way it was Written
YOUR Liege ALWAYS, LOVE : HGarvey Daniel Esquire
7th Place win
Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2011
That was the summer...
Of watermelon fields, and hot, humid days
Of suntanned traces, and mosquito-bit faces
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned
Of running down a country road
Bare feet on hot asphalt
Criss-crossing across an open field
To thick pink crimson chunks
That melted cool on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins
Leaving the best part
The black bullet seeds
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wind
Against the dusty ground
Against each other
And when the ammunition was spent
A pillowed head, among the vines
To dream on clouds that whispered by
In the blue afternoon sky
That watermelon summer
For Skat's Contest: Summer
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
Coconut tropical oil
Glistening on my skin
The scent intoxicates me
As I bask in the sun
And drink in the beauty
Of the sparkling Mediterranean Sea
It’s only for a short while
That I will lie here
And only because
I want to feel the power of the sun
As it makes love to my skin
Warming me and releasing
That summer scent
Soon I’ll dive into the water
Back to being "the dolphin"
The name I was given
For my prowess in the water
Swimming sets me free
I love the feel of my long black hair
Trailing in the water
Caressed by the gentle waves
I love driving in and out of the water
the feeling of total immersion
Of muted sound
Then slowly emerging
I break through
The water trickling down
I lie back and float in the water
After a hand stand or two
I need to let the sun
Kiss every possible inch of me
As the water buoys me up
Here I am not a foreign entity
A strange oddity
I am home
I feel strong, free
I own the water
As I glide along
Yet, now, for a few precious moments
I need to smell the scent of coconut
I run my hand along my legs
I rub in the droplets of water
My hands find no resistence
I love the coarsness of the sand
against my lower legs
I wiggle my toes
My nail polish
How glad I am to be a WOMAN
I love the beach
The feelings that this moment evokes in me
The need for gratification
The scent of coconut always
Sends me to this special place
Coconut conditioner for my hair
Coconut cream for my hands
Coconut flakes for my porridge
Desiccated coconut in my chocolate
Coconut body oil
The scent of coconut
Drives me mad
It releases in me
Surges of confidence
In who I am
And what I can achieve
A woman glistening with
the scent of love
Poetry and dreams
You may laugh
“How superficial and silly
It’s just a scent”
But for me
It’s the scent of my womanhood
It’s the scent of my dreams
The scent of that “invincible summer”
In every winter day of my life
It is....the scent of me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Sorry, but I didn't want to do too much editing on this one. I wanted it to wander, splish splash and be free, just like my thoughts on a summer day at the beach!
In the midst of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer- Albert Camus
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
Summer has laid its beauty at my feet
Quivering grasses beckon me
to find my inner child
To set me free a little while, to look beyond the miles
To feel the grass between my toes
and forge a path to take me home
beyond the sea of margins,
that want to close me in
With meadows, all around me, tall and wild
the troubled trials of worry tumble down
The walls of sorrow crumble beneath the rising sun
which shines it's light upon the fields where I am free to run
The dawn, so gracious to my eyes
throws caution to the wind
It pushes me to be a friend to earth and wind and sky
It leaves the glory in my hand, and keeps me wanting more
I will shield my eyes against the glare, and let my childhood soar
Let me cherish just one moment, to breathe in summer's air
To lean on the breast of silence, 'til the moment disappears
Contest: Summer Sight
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
Her radiant beauty crested, wave ebbing,
summer shakes her flowing green free of cooling rains;
yet, stubbornly they linger, gathering
in misty gray garlands about her peaks.
Decay's first browns creep among the flowers,
drab omens of pallid landscapes soon to come.
Vain summer! Water mirrors she left scattered
reflect from every concave surface of the ground.
Fearful of the season's ending glory,
she reaches for a gown only a queen could wear--
parading field and forest in cascading folds of crimson velvet.
Brilliant oranges, scarlet, gold weave her leafing harvest crown;
Her saffron slippered feet trip down a path of aging green.
Even the moon grows large with October envy,
but he cannot out do her flamboyant display;
his grand act only lasts a moment
compared to summer's pretentious autumnal show.
She hangs on, only brown remaining,
wringing out every vestige of our praise...
until winter comes, ice bragging, to steal the last away.
Copyright, August 28, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014