August 6 Poems - Poems about August 6

SSRI

Why do I have to choose between a pill for my sanity and my sexual desire? 
I don’t want to feel ashamed for going weeks or months with no desire. 
I want to be affectionate. 
I want to be intimate. 
I want to want.

Redeemer

He found me broken, restless. 
He found me dirty, not worthy, fading with every given day. 
He found me through the dark, cold fog in depths of despair. 
Ground that was once soil, now filled with mud from years of unceasing rain. 
Kneeling down on one knee, He took my face in His hands and

Two Pink Lines

Do you remember how excited you would get when you were about to test? Do you remember thinking that maybe if you didn’t look at it till the timer rang, it might be positive. 
Thinking two pink lines meant happiness. Negative after negative, one after the other, month after month. But pain and disappointment still

Matthew Scott Harris may be

Matthew Scott Harris may be...

cunctatious, flirtatious, and unostentatious,
plus being calm, cool and collected,
but he haint disputatious!

Though by far whether alive
or posthumously repurposed
into molecular bits or bytes
videlicet Malus domestica
courtesy Johnny Appleseed
whose real name John Chapman,
planted an estimated thousands
of apple trees
across the Midwestern United States
and primarily established
apple nurseries, not just single trees,
across large areas of wilderness;
while the

I Am Peridot

I am yellow-green! Peridot the color of self-esteem
Protective against life’s rife that may stream 
I come from the earth’s rich interiors ore, 
xenolith layers that make up its inner core
Purifying positive spiritual energy and well-being
Channeling love  to  intrusive shadows unseen
When sunrays shimmer thru shade tree leaves,
you’ll see me glinting behind the summer breeze
Dewy

The Thrill Of A Late Summer

visions of children shrieking on clogged shores,
warm swirling gusts topple gaunt sand castles,
games galore thrive in weather dry and bright,
family fun fair gasp and sheer delight,
yet summer’s warm hue festoon tapers off,
whilst journeyed beehive swarm near blue lagoon,
dip their toes in sunny moss fleck torrents,
others seize their madcap visceral thrill,
from dashing down mint green meadows

OH AUGUST

OH AUGUST!
"The best of summer is gone, and the new fall not yet born--the odd, uneven time of year." Sylvia Plath
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
time drips slow,
like honey from a summer hive.

days stretch like shadows, 
dancing with death of summer’s embrace. 

amber fields rustle,
their golden stalks heavy with grain. 

air, thick with heat and scent of decay,
blooms that once

August 13th, 2025 twenty six plus years since awful series of unfortunate events

August 13th, 2025 – twenty six plus years since awful series of unfortunate events

The following poem posted about a half hour before the bewitching hour that spelled calamity (which though a freaky Friday the thirteenth) did (nor does) not find me exceptionally superstitious, and rather than wait for the morrow, I feel so pent up

70 Degrees in August

The white vinyl plastic skirting waves at me 
There is a discarded orange peel
Halfway down the driveway 
From a mailbox walk.
I stepped over it yesterday and smiled 
thinking of Ryan.
He loves oranges. 
There is a curly blonde little boy
Smiling at us over a baby gate. 
Soon, we will make breakfast. 
Dad is on the couch

Crape Myrtles in August

The bark peels back like old skin—
Mine, yours, the cinnamon scrolls
Of what we shed to live. August
Bleaches the world to bone, the bark’s faint spice
Rising in the noon glare,
Heat tasting of salt and sand. And still this Crape crowns
Itself with Myrtle fire. Still—

I cannot explain what breaks in me. Still I press my cheek
Against its

- A Mecca -

                                          Quiet beauty time
          

After Rain, I'm Left with an August Day

After the Rain, I’m Left with an August Day


My ears ring as I sit in the loft
and the sun shines through haze.
It rained last night and I know
it will rain again. I’ve already
checked through my emails
embracing my ritual to start the day.
The house cat rubs against my leg
until I allow it onto my lap.
I visited

the failure

The Failure

It is about vanity, a need to see one's name in print
The shortest of glory, five seconds, ten?
Switch off at that point of glory, and the fame can last
until someone else demands to use the tablet 
A book of poetry, published in a small town in India 
61 pages, and the editor and owner of the

An Invisible Rose for Your Birthday

Yesterday was your birthday
Unfortunately, that was a busy day
However, I went to the garden
Of my heart this beautiful morning
Where I picked an invisible rose that could bring:
Happiness, joy, good humor and an early spring.

I shaved my beard and mustache to make your day
With all my heart, I wish you a happy birthday
Oh! I would like

Hiroshima eighty years since August 6th, 1945

Hiroshima – eighty years since August 6th, 1945

About fourteen and a half years 
before my birth,
yours truly not even a twinkle  
in the eyes of his then 
young father and mother
the former born April 9th 1929, 
while the latter would be turning ten
that upcoming November 13th
living in destitution 
with her three older siblings
(in proximity

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