Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

Age Summer Poems | Age Poems About Summer

These Age Summer poems are examples of Age poems about Summer. These are the best examples of Age Summer poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Ottava rima |


A couple of Old Drips A summer storm approaches so we take shelter under my umbrella. Teeming rain soaks our clothes and a tiny lake forms under our rain boots. We start beaming and jump in puddles like children. You make me giggle as I see your eyes gleaming. Now in our eighties, we don’t really care what other folk think and if people stare! Summer Rain Storm Contest Sponsored by Dale Gregory Cozart

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic monologue |

Someday special

One day
The sky fades
I'll be free
The good day
Is someday

Copyright © Emidifi Defi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

Debutant's Lament

Summertime…they say the livin’ is easy,                                                
Flowers growin’ and the sun’s sittin’ high.                                    
They say your Daddy’s rich and your Momma’s so good lookin’;               
So hush now pretty baby…there's no reason to cry. 

One of these days, you’re gonna rise up smilin’.
Take a look around and think you’ve got it all.
You’ll have your Momma’s looks, all your Daddy’s money,
And all the boys in town at your beck and call.

Summertime…Yes, the livin’ is so easy,
Laughin’, singin’, havin’ so much fun.
No time to stop and think about your future
And what life will bring when Summer’s done.

‘Cause Summertime, it don’t last forever.
Breezes cool and the leaves begin to fall;
And in your quiet moments, you'll sit and wonder
How you came so far, but have no love at all.

Summertime....They said the livin’ was easy; 
Ain’t it sad how fast the good times fly; 
And now, your Momma’s looks and all your Daddy’s money
Another sweet, warm Summer’s day they cannot buy. 

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Romanticism |

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

Quaker Meeting House

friends meeting house

a swarm of bees

in the spring house

Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015

Details | List |

Senior Day

Senior Day

Sun hat check
Walking shoes check
Water bottle check
Off to wisconsin state fair
For a fun time with two daughters;

Handicapped parking
That's new
Walker in tow
That's new too
But I'm okay with that
Still here
Still kicking
Still having fun

Loaded tater tots?
Yes please
Shared with girls
Such delight

Mile mall 
Hats purses shoes
And a wii t-shirt
For me
That's cool

Wisconsin cheese curds
That's a must
No matter the price
Eating a food lust

Off to hear music
So many bands
Water street brewery
Where we land
Table for us
Umbrella and all
The orphans are playing
We are staying

Hot dog on a stick
Wrapped in curly potato
With bacon bits
Relish mayo ketchup
Cheese mustard sides
Six dollars please
No problem yummy

Off to more music
A band called the toys
Laughter singing
Hand dancing for me
Girls dancing free

Winding down the day
We head to the cream puffs
A fair staple we buy
Tired but happy memories made

Patricia Lynne
August first 2014

Copyright © Patricia Janke | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

If I Shall Grow Old 2K13

If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.

Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

On A Summer 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.

©Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet aka Ron Wilson

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Summer Morning

Summer Morning When sun is bright with its vibrant light..

When water level gets down from its height..

Summers are where hot winds blow, When sun gives all its glow..

During Summers the Mornings are mystical...

Where birds chirps sounds musical....

Morning Dew makes Mornings Refreshing...

Just a cup of Tea takes away all the stress...

 Where nights are cool and serene....

 Moonlights in the blue...

All around seems to get filled with Evergreen hue....

Invincible Summers make me mesmerized its time to make minds get Energized ..

. Dated 3.01.2015

Copyright © Sanchita Sanchi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

long days of the past

i speak trouble yes
i speak trouble
late night rumble
very quiet mumble
summertime symptoms
slipped in subtle
suddenly i want to see
the warmth right before
the crunching of some autumn leaves
too hot at noon, makes the warmest evenings
writing on walls, illegal to draw
remind me of nights, all fear was small
bliss and inner peace
abundant as dinner treats
everyday i made away
with darker skin, and dirty feet
heart disease not bittersweet
park and freeze like little creeps
when passerby, might quantify
activities, helping secrets to keep
no such trouble yes
no such trouble
all the wonder, many lovers
i wrestled and played with shovels
pedestrian and landlord
i rummaged through the rubble
pasta without sauce, and gallons of tap water
vaporizing sacred flowers
that smell of exotic jungles
worries never entering
my vision like a tunnel
fleeting as a hummingbird
never ashamed to cuddle
never new a softer word
never cared for struggle
running free to paradise
cause my license priced had doubled
delighted to ride a bike
rain reason not to huddle
traveled all i sought to see
carpool or a shuttle
impermanence just a word
pouring down the funnel

Copyright © Davin Payne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

That Blue Car

by the city heat 
in that blue car,
permanently parked under embers of sunlight
until the moon
Breaks and swells in the sky,
easing the metal. Making cracks in the colour
and breaking the leather.
Aged by fair weather 
and fairly harsh wear.
It smells like…
old and laughs and memories,
sometimes like tears and cries and photographs.
And it feels like them too.
On my skin and pressed against my  back,
Grains of wishes and wants that now are dead.
How far did you drive before you could see,
The old concrete block that
crushed your resolve 
that mangled and
twisted you,
buried you here?
That caught you
in pen
immortalised you?

Copyright © Keabetswe Molotsi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad |

Summer Time Rat Beat

Poetic Lyrics By Thomas Lam Hsi

SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!

Ha...ha...ha...waves 'n beats...bored with...boards...summer's sweet...a Rat Beat!

Boards 'n waves...roll tide...tarts so sweet...in...a...Rat Beat!

Knolls...and...who knows...oily 'n...in...the sun...for fun...skin-on-skin...a...Rat Beat!

Amp the fun...jeeps 'n sweets...tarts 'n hearts...for fun...movie's 'n dates...a...
Rat Beat!

Ducatti...keys 'n fun...boards 'n sun...blondes...Hey...want..a...Rat Beat?

Vegas...one-on-one...two-on-one...drop for fun...Hey...want...a...Rat Beat?

Shops 'n malls...drop-to-shop...shop-to-drop...Hey...want...a...Rat Beat?

Movies 'n dates...tecky 'n smart...beast-ta-start...Hey...want...a...Rat Beat?

Summer-time...daze...in a daze...daze of summer...In...a...Rat Beat!

Summer-time...daze...in a daze...daze of summer...In...a...Rat Beat!

Streets 'n lights...rockets 'n pockets...leather 'n boots...metal-to-petal...in...
A...Rat Beat!

Clubs 'n hearts...walks...through parks...24-to-7...Heaven...in...a...Rat Beat!

Jet-to-fame...ride a plane...summer daze...daze away...in...a...Rat Beat!

Monster daze..in...a...royal haze...summer parks...rides 'n games...duh...
A...Rat Beat!

Summer-time...daze...in...a daze...daze of summer...In...a...Rat Beat!

Summer-time...daze...in...a daze...daze of summer...In...a...Rat Beat!

Fly away...summer-to-Mars...Venus-to-stars...daze of summer...In...a...
Rat Beat!

Fly-away...summer-to-Mars...Venus-to-stars...daze of summer...In...a...
Rat Beat!

Copyright © Thomas Hsi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Summer Passage

            Summer Passage

Bones burnt white and crisp on deserts open hell of summer
Eyes turn painful red in sun’s fierce and punishing glare
But children only know the surf and blue rolling waves
Cool breezes, endless play, and warmth of friends
Sky and sand take over 
Become the blue and white of life
These things pass into tranquility in slow autumnal flow
On gentle orange and yellow spiraling leaves at leisure
Drifting, tumbling as in sleep, with no particular place to go
Autumn catches every fragrance of the harvest too
Lavender and pumpkin tell the truth
The moon grows large as we pick every plant
September, October and November forget the past
As they sleep beneath the green serene 
Of summer's grass

Created on 8/30/14 for Summer’s End Poetry contest


Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |


It is summer,a summer in autumn
This must be true,this must be true;
Those flowers are never late to blossom,
Because of the day I found you.

But does my love befit your grace
When your heart is far away and unfree?
And can our fear see the better days
When we are comfortable with misery?

It is summer,summer in autumn,
I've found this to be true,
If God is giving you a sea to fathom,
 Would you? Could you?

some velvet briars

Copyright © Robert Velves | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

A Single Summer Night

The summer’s heat made me almost swoon. Here we were on the last day in June. Two weeks had passed since I wore my cap and gown. I spotted a woman who had just moved into town. For a boy at the young age of eighteen, everything comprised a usual summer scene. What attractiveness she possessed! I could not help but stare. I swear I saw her wink at me while she passed through the sultry air. I was all alone later that day when she walked up to me. She said, “Hello, I am new in town. My name is Audrey”. This woman was older than I, and must have held a mystical force. She was enough to make my ship begin sailing well off course. This lady told me she lived alone and went through a divorce. We walked over to her house, and then we went inside. Audrey took my hand and showed me she had nothing to hide. I was a boy when I saw the sunset with my eyes. The next morning, I was a man when I gazed at the sunrise. Many years have passed, and Audrey is but a memory. In a single night, this woman made me reach maturity. Robert Pettit for Frank Herrera's Coming of Age contest

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

winter died

lightness of touch.
new breeze upon
stale air affronts.
my soul waits
for moments like these.
roam within winsome sapling
you fragrant gentle wind -
bringing relief to aged
take me back
to days gone passed
when spring meant
the eve of longer days
and winter died
in enthusiasm
of laughter and endless
romps in sultry days.

(c) 2016 rickjstassi

Copyright © Rick Stassi | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |

Endless Summer Love

Walking with the love of my life in light drizzle, hand in hand to breathe the fresh damp evening air, and view the late sunset's glare as the end of summer preludes with crickets' hymn and night birds sing that razed the fire trees last majestic bloom Amid the howling cur, not a care in the world, we share one heart for that is all we have and need, so richly blessed we found True love Though seasons change, as they surely will, when leaves shall fade and fall to icy white, well keep the warmth in each other's hand. Till the last twinkling moment, we let go, to walk ahead, and wait until once more hold hands, to walk in love on that endless summer day that never fades away

Copyright © Jun Gonzales | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |

When My Winter Turned To Summer

When I was young so often I was cold,
internal winter, my body season.
Though recently that's changed, truth be told.
Reader, let me share with you the reason.

It started at the age of fifty two.
Found my body suddenly in summer.
For middle age it's really nothing new
that menopause can be such a bummer.

My visage gets that glow, fiery passion,
the red in me, like a fashion statement.
Summer comes so quick with my hot flashin'.
How I truly long for heat abatement.

I'm in summer now, I do declare it.
Till season does pass, I'll grin and bear it.


submitted for Funny How My Winter Turned To Summer contest sponsored by Brenda Chiri

Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Meditation on a Summer Evening

Meditation On a Summer Evening

I see the Lovely Lily growing closer,
The pool of air surrounding,
Falling shallow.
Evening breezes of breath become quiet.

The nearer the advance of the Lovely Lily,
The heavenly lights glow fiercely.

Did You place fear in our hearts so
We wouldn’t clutch at the gates of heaven too soon?
That You might complete our puzzle piece?

Take my hand. Lovely Lily, when You are ready, 
Take my hand. 

Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |

summer island

The summer Island
On the island in the fjord where we use to go bathing
there is now a bridge over, a parking lot and you have to pay.
There are toilets- no peeing behind a bush- and kiosk selling 
soft drinks and cigarettes, asphalted lanes to walk on and 
signs, plenty of them, telling you what you cannot do
Last time I was here with my aunt and her lover the island 
had bunkers and rusty iron bits from a long bitterly cold war.

A marina had been built and had a restaurant but you needed 
to be a member and wear a blazer with golden buttons and
a white sailor cap; they resented local bathers it was no longer 
a place for us workers, they strive to make life better but end 
up privatising what used to be free  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |

summer island

The summer Island
On the island in the fjord where we use to go bathing
there is now a bridge over, a parking lot and you have to pay.
There are toilets- no peeing behind a bush- and kiosk selling 
soft drinks and cigarettes, asphalted lanes to walk on and 
signs, plenty of them, telling you what you cannot do
Last time I was here with my aunt and her lover the island 
had bunkers and rusty iron bits from a long bitterly cold war.

A marina had been built and had a restaurant but you needed 
to be a member and wear a blazer with golden buttons and
a white sailor cap; they resented local bathers it was no longer 
a place for us workers, they strive to make life better but end 
up privatising what used to be free  

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2017

Details | Verse |

Aging as a Spiritual Practice

Beautiful summer day. You know you're gonna die
that's why you know no joy.
Obsessed with self, there is no answer
unless religion, tv, stories, sports matter.
So what if nothing rhymes and I don't
bring my life into an expressible state
or fight purposelessness, anomie. No one writes.
Running the gauntlet alone. A good day to die, the Apaches say.

For men like us dying's easy, it's living that's hard.
And since dying's much like living, that's hard too.
There's some contentment in letting community decide
your place in it. We're not talking to you.
Really, it's a perfect day. Every leaf is out
that's coming out. The grass is high
and unidentified yet another year. Being knowledgeable
is the best defense against your insignificance.

Can't stop the quince from blossoming
or my sons from smoking, speeding.
The best that can be done or said's a blessing.
Less tv, less guessing
about the effects of your anger unless
you want to be an angry man forever.
Coming from the funeral with friends,
talking on the telephone. OK about being alone.

Alive, almost sure of it. Whether I'm a visitor
to my life or the actual owner.
Mature poets steal, most are masturbators.
This house could use a good cleaning
and emptying out. I should subscribe
to the local newspaper, do my job well,
do less until one thing's done well.
What would that be? Old, and yet so young.

There are a million poets, I'm poet #500K.
Plenty of mysteries, infinite philosophies,
prayers, laws and unwritten rules.
That's why we go to school, life's complicated.
All I do not know: ATP, probabilities,
the glorious revolution, meiosis and mitosis
and all I'll never see, the bottom of the ocean,
the palm at the end of the mind, a wolverine.

There are certain indicators, undeniable,
inexorable. Forget-me-not, is that all I want?
To get lucky, you gotta be careful first.
To be great, you gotta be willing to sound BAD.
Although we cannot make the sun stand still
yet will we make him run. Brave revelers.
Signed engagement letter attached.
Attachment to self and to things to do.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2017

Details | Blank verse |

end of summer

the ants sing in traps
of fallen brown and all
these crazy winds dance
a blind ballet of coded
circles so rain constant
washes us in a dark baptism
when I clutch your hand
I feel small bones under
your skin, light as a bird,
made warm by the running
days,the last summer

Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Golden Age of Summer

Golden age of summer,
spent in a small
Iowa town where
I used to slumber.

So many summers ago
spending magic moments
with my old pal shep
at the old swimming hole.

Rexall drug store
will never forget such
a place to go for
a 25 cent malt and
so much more.

Where did you go
golden age of summer?
Dearly miss you so.

Sitting with grandmother
in the golden age of summer
on her front porch
talking with each other,

loved her so sincerely
as golden age of summer
left me with just memories
so has old grandma
who I loved so dearly.

Copyright © James Foulk | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |

summer sweet as watermelon

summer sweet as watermelon

few pleasures abide, 
through all of life.
yet, this one thing
I know above all,
nothing beats
and I mean nothing beats,
eating watermelon 
seated on the front porch rail.

hot July afternoon
‘round about two o’clock
sitting on the front porch rail
drumming our heels in sync.
boredom rises up
like the heat falls down 
around our shoulders
even the shade is just
a darker place to sweat.
done the hose on the lawn
grass stained knees
shrivelled fingers.

the screen door slams
sweet scents drift up behind us
as momma puts a tub of ice on the table
sitting proud on top of the ringing freeze
like red sails on some Arctic sea
triangles of fruit glistening wetly.
luscious thick slices       
dark seeds dotting them like freckles
then the pale green rind
and the skin shiny, marbled.

our mouths do the Pavlovian thing
we giggle our heels thrumming faster
the ice tinkles as it settles in the heat
cicadas saw in the trees
Momma says dig in, we do
licking the juice then biting deep, deep
crunch-candy sweet liquid runs down our chins
our necks, onto our chests
pale pink stains spread out over our skin.
a humming bird inspects us 
hung from invisible wings.

there is a certain way 
of tucking the seeds into my cheek
we all do it …… saving them
until the last drop on the slice 
was noisily sucked dry
before the next piece
at an almost mystically silent sign
we shoot those slippery seeds from our lips
out across the lawn
they arch reflecting the light
brown as chestnuts. flying like June bugs
into the damp grass.`


Copyright © PATRICIA CRESSWELL | Year Posted 2017