Best Sprinklers Poems
April's come and gone. Now May is here; the grains in the hourglass
have already started sifting down. Dew is on the roses.
Days of linking daisies will soon begin.
Transparent skies of night will show
constellations when the
fire-breathing dragon
comes to freckle
school-sprung
children, who
baring skin,
will run
with
glee
through
sprinklers.
Soon enough
the kids will be
tumbling in leaves
fallen from the trees of
their back yards, and then
following bright autumn's demise,
the filtering of seasons' sand quickens till
every grain has drifted like snow, burying another year.
May is on her way; again the hourglass, like magic, is turned over.
Categories:
sprinklers, seasons,
Form:
Shape
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
Categories:
sprinklers, sunshine,
Form:
Free verse
An angel smiled at me today,
I almost passed her by.
A tiny little slip-of-a-thing, swallowed by an oversized coat,
Face hidden by wind-tossed hair.
I wasn't thinking of whose she was,
Only that I was running late, vaguely annoyed at "whatever".
Unaware of passing lives also trapped in their own isolations.
Then I heard her laugh, freely, contagiously, the way I used to.
Fleeting resentment passed through my mind,
That I'd noticed. That I wanted to stop.
For a brief moment I was reminded of summer days, of climbing trees
And skinned knees.
Running through sprinklers and warm seas.
Memories made me stop and turn...
There she was.
Not more than six. Slipping between people who took no notice,
As if she was the mailbox on the corner.
Caught in her own sidewalk world of make-believe.
Chasing an unseen rainbow... and then she caught me watching.
Undisturbed, her face burst into a happy grin as laughter bubbled forth,
Her eyes glowing like Christmas morning.
Pushing the hair away that would not stay still, pausing in her solitary game.
That single moment when we took each other in seemed like lifetimes.
Something inside me quietly burst free.
I continued on my way, but the day seemed brighter.
Nothing had outwardly changed; I was still late, but I had the curious urge to skip to the corner;
To roll down a grassy hill and play hide and seek.
At the corner I turned just to see if she was still there,
To send her a silent thanks.
As if she heard, she turned... and an angel smiled at me, again.
Categories:
sprinklers, childhood, happy, imagery, joy,
Form:
Deceptive, drowsy,
the gray cat, Tempus, in doldrums
lazes, purring, stretching.
I have watched him:
cunning eyes half-closed,
he stalks bright birds near day lilies.
Wings wet from flights
through sprinklers' sweeps,
birds swoop, glide, flutter.
They light on dry grass,
strut and shake themselves,
are lulled. Then, Tempus
pounces on one bird.
The rest are routed…
And Tempus fugit.
Categories:
sprinklers, allegory, life, nature, pets,
Form:
Free verse
The humid air sweats streaming curls down the toddler’s flush cheeks like Fusilli hot from the stove. The golden ringlets cling to her forehead, bouncing like Slinky’s in front of her, blue-agate, eyes. The backyard’s sounds-bat cracks and wise cracks-surround her. Squeals echo from the mounds of loam behind her new house. The homes out back form a red, yellow, blue, green monopoly board configuration.
The sand box she sits in is full of scrap two-by-four blocks. Using a naked purple-haired troll doll, she attacks the pine-block castle, tumbling the battlement. A plank spans the puddle
(created by the leaky green garden hose). The barefoot tike, troll in hand, starts across the board toward the moonscape of mud mounds; where her sister and friends run screeching armed with rotten tomatoes. She almost makes it before falling in and running mud covered to mother.
Polish Catholics, Italian Catholics and Irish Catholics, lived side by side with English Presbyterian’s and we errant, runaway, Jews. The scent of tomato paste, knackwurst and borscht wafts through the same soupy air, where we play King of the Mountain. Big Boys and Plum tomatoes flew indiscriminately through the August air like missiles. The only thing which stopped the action was the distance ringing bell of the Good Humor truck, here on Cherry Tomato Alley. Here where each new neighbor had transplanted themselves: their children, their gardens, their sprinklers, and their cars to fulfill the American dream.
First Published in Melancholy Hyperbole Spring 2015
Categories:
sprinklers, childhood,
Form:
Prose
spring is here
at last at last
wind blowing clouds
like gossamer glass
smells fill the air
the flowers are calling
bees making honey
with love and pollen
watching dandilions
is a glorious affair
while slinging their fluff
all thru the air
It seems I'm not
the only one
to jump with joy
here comes the sun
I hop and skip
accross a lawn
I twirl around
till I have fallen
I dance a happy
springtime dance
lay on the grass
where sprinklers splash
a sweet little inchworm
crosses my toe
take your time little one
just go with the flow
my spring my spring
is here for now
the sun stands up
to take a bow
Categories:
sprinklers, garden, happiness, imagery, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
My husband... has never minded
eating a vegetable he doesn't like
just so they will eat theirs...
Or eating half smashed, soggy potato chips
out of clammy little hands,
when they've decided they would like to share...
He's fine... letting them play hairdresser...
sitting patiently, while they curl his hair,
He will play Old Maid, pretending to have a sour face...
all the while letting them win
He doesn't mind drinking muddy looking tea
from a tiny little cup, that is too small for his fingers
Or sitting out in the blazing sun
on a hot summer afternoon
watching them stay cool, as they frolic in the sprinklers
He shows excitement
over a Popsicle stick
glued onto cardboard,
and tied with a bow....
exclaiming it to be his favorite birthday gift...
He doesn't mind taking them up and down the aisles of Wal Mart
for an hour, while they decide how to spend their dollar
He would rather spend his day playing hopscotch
than a round of golf
He's their Grandpa.........
Just one more reason why I love him
________________________________________________________
"A Good Man" Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Rayne
Categories:
sprinklers, dedication, husband,
Form:
Free verse
Sprinklers arc
white rainbows
over emerald grass
The jets
burst
in nimbus shadows
geysering
a shimmer
of translucent flurries
under opal rays
Pools
of periwinkle ripple
and fountains
of lavender
sway
in a porcelain mist
10th Place
Summer Solstice Premier Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
6/29/17
Categories:
sprinklers, color, garden, imagery,
Form:
Imagism
August Sunshine
August sunshine feels different
Than sharp newborn rays
Of afternoons in June…
Round,
August sunshine tells
Of ripening
And growing large –
Laying still
Watching the breeze tickle
Mature birch leaves
Until they quiver
In delight
And dance.
August sunshine is about napping
And waking
Waking and pausing,
Seeing the depth of blueness in the sky
All over again
As if for the first time
Mouth open in wonder;
Letting warmth
Slowly seep
Into cold bones and weary souls –
Being still
While butterflies
Float
Past summer visions.
August sunshine is about
Looking
For the moonrise in paleness
To light up the way
For summer shooting stars;
The feel of hats –
The smell of suntan cream
Winding down,
Gathering,
Resting
In the sound of children
In the backyard
Ice in glasses,
The smell of newly cut grass.
August sunshine is about
Seeing the action of life
Write itself
Into
The afternoon
Then watch
Parades
Of boats
Stroll by on lakes –
Or buzz the shore
Pulling water skiers -
Tiny dots like aquatic ants
Surfing
On summer waves.
It is about being enveloped –
Watering – weeding - getting ready
And the whoosh
Of rainbirds
Sprinklers
Fire hydrants
Making puddles –
Water trickling down
Furrows
Of the skin and soil;
Opening windows - closing shutters
Ice cream vendors and thunderstorms
Announcing their arrival
In tinkling bells and booming laughter.
August sunshine feels different.
Categories:
sprinklers, august, sunshine,
Form:
Free verse
The Two goldfish Eric and jaws are swimming around in their bowl on a glass coffee table located in a small apartment block just south of Manhattan’s lower east side .
they begin a conversation about the origins of life.
jaws turns to eric and says ,
"there must be more than this" ?,
Eric replies "don't be ridiculous The world around you is the only one that has life ,the great sprinkler in the sky made us in his own image we clearly came from monkeys he exclaimed ",
jaws the other goldfish scowling,
protested at this remark,
"then who built the statue that stands amongst the silent green ? ,Jaws gestured toward the bottom of their bowl .
"And it Doesn't look like us".
Eric swam on a little further before replying,
"our kind made it many sprinkles ago",
as a tribute, they were simple fish back then , savages even !
that were clearly clueless".
Jaws stopped swimming, "savages ? , that were able to build such a magnificent statue ,with just gravel tools ?, we can't even do that today ! .
"Keep swimming"
Eric exclaimed , or you will ascend up wards and the great sprinkler will take you into the sky" !.
At this jaws swam on , " so you think we are all there is and no other life exists anywhere else" ?.
Eric chuckled "we should not question but just except the fact evolution and the sprinklers teachings are the law and the only dictates we need.
And the world is not the way you
Perceive the world to be ,young jaws of that I promise you ".
At this point of their conversation The two fish had made a five second revolution of the bowl which in their time had = their worlds space nicely , one turned to the other and they began a conversation about the origins of life jaws says to eric "there must be more than this" to which the Eric replies "don't be ridiculous .............
Categories:
sprinklers, allegory, crazy, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
Scenic seasons are right reasons
for us poets penning our songs stunning;
Splendid Spring, we sweetly sing,
Sunny Summer whispers warmer truths,
Famed Fall sheds its hued haul,
Then comes wan Winter’s snow sprinklers ~
Witty words paint pretty pictures.
11.03.2021
Syllable count: 8.10.7.9.6.8.8 (Sequence 1)
Checked with howmanysyllables.com
For Joseph May's "Alliterisen - 7 lines" contest
Categories:
sprinklers, beautiful, imagery, poetry, seasons,
Form:
Verse
Observe the bending of tree & flower.
To rages; a gale… in tempestuous hours.!
Rain deep in curtain, makes interplay;
Fresh night skies, await the sun in power.
Morn air stirs, Lady’s chinking; breakfast crocks.
Day-streams 'cross backyards, endless blocks..
Splashes as sound; tables, are scrubbed..
Cars all hues; white thru red, too! radios rock!!
Sprinklers now silent; birdsong calls,
Gardener’s clipping the creeper on walls
Children’s cries are echoes around
Fountains splash in foyers & malls!!
Gundog flushes the dove; white ahead!
Tools are re-sharpened in timber shed,
Lilac buds blossom! Midst threaded verde,
In abundant gardens, Man & Woman wed.."
© Joe Maverick.co.uk
To know more about this poem (well you know)
Categories:
sprinklers, dedication, happiness, urdu,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Very early Fall morning…crisp and clear.
Sitting on the patio, sipping hot coffee.
Only my path to and from the bird feeders,
Rain gutters hung on the stockade fence,
Has disturbed the beautiful, glistening dew
Blanketing a lush, green Bermuda lawn
Awaiting the season’s final mow and a Winter sleep.
Early morning sunsmile creates a mist, a little fog,
That artists have great difficulty recreating.
And the sprinklers are making music too….
CH CH CH CH CH CH CH CH
As I filled those bird feeders,
Only the patient cooing of white wing dove
Waiting in the surrounding trees
Could barely be heard above the sprinkler.
CH CH CH CH CH CH CH CH
Feeders filled, I walked away.
The air erupted with bird song.
Our giant privets were alive with hungry sparrows,
Each announcing breakfast.
All the locals seemed to understand.
The robins and larks, the finches and cardinals chimed in;
But only the jays’ sharp calls could be heard above the din.
What a ruckus…but so beautiful a song,
It is a ‘wall of sound’ to be envied by rockers.
Orchestrated by Mother Nature….Mrs. God.
The sprinkler's barely heard....
ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch
Squirrels wait out of sight.
One may bark now and then, but
They’ve learned that patience pays.
It’s not just time to feed those damn birds;
It’s time to feed the greedy squirrels too;
And chow time is well worth the wait:
Sunflower seeds. Peanuts. Suet. Dried fruit.
You can almost hear them as they gobble,
“Mmmmmm. Man, this is the good stuff, Bro’.
I mean the good stuff. What a life.
I’ll never leave…not even for a girl squirrel.”
It’s as if they think they’ll never eat again;
Every morning.
As if we hadn’t been feeding them
Every day of their lives…and their parents.
If we could tell them apart.
They would have names.
Well....everybody's happy.
All this and good coffee too.
What a beautiful Fall morning.
Categories:
sprinklers, animal, appreciation, autumn, basketball,
Form:
Blank verse
Waves on the rocks
a'crashing
In it human feet go
splashing
And elsewhere in the
swollen river
'gator tails go thrashing
Water may be stagnant
or it may be thus moving
Sometimes softly
dripping
at times forcefully
gushing
In brooks babbling
In streams gurgling
In springs bubbling
In rivers running
From faucets freely
flowing
or from pipes coercingly
spurting
At times noisily sloshing
But in lakes musically
rippling
In it diving and wading
In it refreshing bathing
Or spic and span
cleansing, rinsing
In it slow sailing or
speedy surfing
Fishermen fishing or
busy boating
Ah water, through cracks
seeping
From waterfalls
cascading
As rainwater splattering
From sprinklers
sprinkling.
From hoses spattering
From rooftops streaming.
In whirlpools swiftly
swirling
From taps simply trickling
Elsewhere rushing,
whooshing
Ah yes water is life,
water tis a böon
except when it goes
flooding, drowning
or tsunami sea-quaking!
Then only it becomes a
bane
as it drags dreams and
dreamers
down the drain!
But oughtn't we be
preserving
instead of forever
polluting
This precious liquid so
valuable to life
Oughtn't we be saving?
Instead of negligent
wasting?
Categories:
sprinklers, water,
Form:
Rhyme
Where I’m From
I’m from tea parties and tutu’s,
From fingernail painting and Oreo cookies.
I’m from jumping on the trampoline,
And water sprinklers in the front yard.
I’m from summer days and sleepovers,
From zoo trips with momma,
And long car rides on summer vacation.
From scary stories by the bonfire,
And catching fireflies in an old peanut butter jar.
I’m from melting ice cream cones and playing make believe.
I’m from pool parties with Uncle Charlie,
And sunburns at the beach.
From backyard BBQ’s and watermelon slices the size of my face.
I’m from watching fireworks on New Years Eve,
And playing kick-ball at family reunions.
I’m from polka-dot swim suits and birthday parties.
From bubble gum stuck in my hair,
From cooking with mom, and shopping with my Mimi.
I’m from walking my dog on Saturday morning,
And watching cartoons all night.
I’m from cheerleading tryouts and track meets,
And washing mom’s car on the weekend.
(Even though it never really got clean!)
From picking bluebonnets,
And going to Rockport every summer.
I’m from more lessons to learn,
And more goals to achieve.
I’m from looking at the better side of things,
And keeping my head up.
I’m from never forgetting the good days,
And growing up to be the person I know I can be.
Categories:
sprinklers, familysummer, car, summer, new
Form:
Light Verse