Best Suntan Poems
Rising on island,
Mountain, with peaks of possibility,
Valley lush and green.
When my knees collapse, lightning and thunder -
Call it butterflies.
The palms warmed and cooled us, warned us, fooled us.
Explosive, our love -
Once conjoined, often drifting in the sea,
Eyes leaping with fire.
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
Hearts of stone, lifting upwards, tears running,
Drifting on riffraff.
Outbreak of chortling might redirect winds.
La la…ooh…la la.
Sips of berries and pineapple; we share
Icy tropical
Attempts to cool things down; steam underfoot.
Ebb and flow of raft,
Seeking to poke embers - attentive ears.
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
Collapse of civilization, in grass
Skirt, paradise shirt,
Atomic timing sans wearing a watch.
Heads buried in sand -
Lips meeting in molten-red, not passive,
Dirty and tender.
Swimming in sweep of lava lake, suntan-
Baked, gliding upwards,
Climactic eruption, falling with love.
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
We ride the flume of volcanic weather,
Can’t raise the tall man,
Seek the insane chance of sane survival -
Valiancy in strife.
Man and wife seeking each other’s island -
Pieces fit just right.
Synchronic habitation, breathing room.
Volcano’s, how old?
In the end it shuts its mouth… a whisper
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
~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?
-X-
It is a sun splashed day; the air is silent with the sound of waves
from an ocean moving to the rhythm of crying gulls.
The sand underneath my feet is warm and soothing.
The crashing waters from a wind sculpted waterfall swims
into the arms of its mother sea.
It is a private beach at a spot in the world
were the Caribbean Sea and The Atlantic Ocean hug.
It is a strange sensation of hot then cold, that tease the senses.
The young woman with me is my lover of four years.
The golden rays of light from the bright morning star
lives in the flow of her platinum blond hair.
In her eyes I can see the bright clear blue ocean, warm,
but with a piercing love glare that sends shivers up my spine.
We are young, in love and safe
inside a perfect glossy postcard background.
Her red lips and light drenched skin glows
with the beauty of this perfect Jamaican day.
Without a thought I grab the back of her head,
jerking my lover's whole body towards me
locking her in the strength of my grasp
inviting her to quench my desire.
I bite her lips before engaging in a deep passionate kiss
and remove a barely there bikini from her statuesque figure.
She embraces me as I lift her in my arms
naked for all the Gods to observe.
I set her down under the refreshing flow of the rushing waterfall.
She attempts to pull at me, but I deny her.
I hold back both her arms and use my mouth
to suckle her all the time absorbing the beating waters
that kneads my flesh, like so much dough.
Suddenly I set my angel free. She pounces on me,
like a lioness in heat famished for the taste of flesh.
The world disappears and I find myself willingly trapped in a void.
Nature's voice conducts an orchestra of emotion.
We writhe in the ecstasy of touch.
With the strokes of a divinity fingers paint a portrait of rapture.
We dance now to the precise notes
of an escape into the arms of serenity.
In one fluid movement, our bodies become one.
There is no end to the divine flavors we share.
Cooling waters flame our sins.
We explode like a building
imploding gracefully to the roar of infinite sound.
Until eventually we pass out naked
locked in each others arms.
We find ourselves lying on the warmth
of the fine white sand beach when we awaken,
tattooed in the telling shades of a Jamaican suntan.
Malta
Sweet romance
Sizzling sunshine
Darling, I want to stay -
With you
Journey
Flying home
Suntan fading
Photographs… memories
Heartbreak
11~07~14
Contest: Cinqku Poem
Sponsor: Dr.Ram Mehta
Syllable checker used – ‘How Many Syllables’ 2,3,4,6,2
~awarded 3rd place~
The seashore is a wondrous stage, for in the sun's delight,
I sit and watch a play unfold- it's there within my sight!
Those beauties, young with golden tans, demurely sashay by
In search of those admiring eyes that peep so deft and sly.
While young dudes with their virile forms and sun-bleached wavy hair,
Strut back and forth so confident with sort of haughty air.
Small children, filling up their pails, build castles made of sand,
While fathers take a break from rest to lend a helping hand.
And mothers being what they are- in their protective lots,
Are ever rubbing suntan cream on freckled, sunburned tots.
Those chunky mid-life guys and gals packed tight in swim attire
Add so much fullness to the scene, for those to see, admire!
And oldsters wrapped up tight and snug to shield from wind and sun,
With eyes shut under hats of straw, in dreamland have their fun!
At water's edge, the tame are found, waves rolling at their feet;
While further out, some brave the swells to make their fun complete.
And there, up high on pedestals, bronzed lifeguards oversee
With ever watchful, cautious eyes, the shore's activity.
And here I sit, a spectator, relaxed this summer day-
But, am I too a character to those who look my way?
April 20, 2015
Premiere Contest: My Favorite Vacation In Rhyme
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
My suntan comes from a bottle
My hair from a wig maker in Peru
My legs are very hairy
I have to put my teeth in to chew
I have had plastic surgery
And a nip and tuck
And I'm soon to have my nose done
With a bit of luck
My lips are bigger than Mick Jagger's
And I have that wind tunnel look
And I'm quite a catch by anybodies book
But I'm all man
Well almost
But I do what I can
I do have a six pack
But keep it in the cooler
Yes I'm quite a man
I measured it with a ruler.
So come on ladies grab me while you can
When I've got my teeth in and wig up on my head
They say I look like George Clooney
But then I look in the mirror
And I think they meant Mickey Rooney.
Ar well can't have everything
But my heart is loving and true
I may not be organic no more
With all the plastic surgery
But there's much more than that to me.
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. July.
An hour before time, they put her through the motions.
Shoving and pulling her strings adding oil and suntan lotion.
Hot and humid still shining in candid spirit she professes
in music, a monotone but in finesse, a tune nonetheless.
Of her welcome song intrinsic in me but to her handlers, in blase
only the mere task of steering and roping in tense power play.
Embarking though marred by obvious signs of abuse and neglect.
Her rolling in elation disguised the slippery entrance and my regret.
Drivers accommodating cramped spaces as directed, gently to fill.
Opting to maitain serenity as they in vain, placate her iron will.
Do I hear her rising blood pulses or lack of joy in welcome thereof?
No, just the sound of tumultuous creaks and human smell
of perfume, tainted sweat and punjent oil leaks let off.
Disgruntled impatience of mere sailors but of her, not a peep.
Standing tall, holding firm a class of her own as she let sweep.
Riding the waves in style directing me to the destiny I must keep.
On and on she rides tantalising the waves as they foam at the peaks.
Such insight when she lapses into a lullaby putting me to sleep.
I return to a friend who knows well to serve, to ferry me ashore.
Another blissful time with her as the sea beckons for us to explore.
She is faithful, a useful companion with its own metallic commodore.
Sailing majestically forever a classy lady, our very own Lady Samoa.
(N.B Lady Samoa is our Inter-Island Ferry)
Summertime Fun – On the Beach
When I’m feeling hot, hot, hot,
the beach is certainly my ideal fun spot!
Wearing sunglasses and floppy hat plopped on my head,
I’m lunging under an umbrella in my bathing suit so red.
As I play with my bare feet in the warm sand,
for me summertime on the beach is always grand!
After a few sun-drenched laps in the salty ocean,
I’m ready for a full-body massage with baby oil or suntan lotion.
Feeling very relaxed, sipping on a frosty virgin pina colada,
this is definitely summertime fun for Pandita!
Just imagine coconut trees swaying in a light breeze,
that’s a picture I like – so freeze frame – please!
05-29-2015
Contest: Summertime Fun
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Placement: HM
Dug deep down inside
and pulled out the memory file
about being a child
with my family for
a rare outing at Jones Beach,
we were all there with
my Moms picnic basket,
just in case we got hungry,
we'd eat one of her special treats,
My Mom didn't like the water
and especially the ocean,
so she sat on her beach towel,
applying suntan lotion,
the rest of us going for
a swim for some cool relief,
my Dad diving in first
to show his swimming techniques,
from how to tread water
if we couldn't land on our feet,
to how to cup our hands,
and stroke with our arms
in a nice easy rhythm,
I could tell my Dad was on
a teaching how to swim mission,
then some of us took a leisurely
stroll on the beach shore,
while some of us ran when
we noticed horseshoe crabs
eerily congregating,
my Dad picked a couple of them
up by their tail,
and after inspecting them
threw them way up in the air,
where they'd land somewhere
in one of the waves,
landing precariously with
a very loud splash,
I thought to my 7 year old self,
with pride and love in my heart,
my Dad is so very brave,
when were on the beach
he is my hero because
he makes me feel so safe!
Addendum: My deceased Dad was a terrific swimmer who worked as a police officer on a police boat for the Marine Bureau on Long Island, N.Y. from 1955-1985…rest in peace Dad. We love and miss you...
eating an ice cream
telling oneself life is sweet
lying on the beach
looking at the yachts
believing they are in reach
lying on the beach
watching the seagulls
having little accidents
lying on the beach
see the stranded whales
assuming they missed the tide
lying on the beach
getting a suntan
thinking it comes at no cost
lying on the beach
By
David Kavanagh
Summer Sunshine
Summer sunshine feels different from spring,
Round – ripening and growing large –
Laying still, sunbeams tickle leaves and sing -
Seeing blueness across the sky enlarge.
Summer sunshine welcomes naps in hammocks
And seeps into the winter weary soul
Cloud shapes shift in the sky, panoramic,
And the scent of new cut grass to extol.
Summer sunshine writes of calm, sunlit lakes
Winding down, gathering, summer reading
The scent of suntan cream and sizzling steaks
Getting ready, watering and weeding.
Windows open as sunshine rushes in
Warm blessing from God’s hands like sacred hymns.
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.
Bronze tint glints from fractured
surfaces, peppered planes of salted
quartzite, eons old:
attributes peculiar to rock,
to stone, whose strength
no soft tissue could ever know.
No iodine suntan ever quite
approached that shade, nor ivory
smile's glow blinded
as its glassy show:
To this flinty hardness mind
never swoops; no human heart,
though cruel, could ever reach
its crystal cold.
Fish and chips salty air
Big fat bottoms sat on stripy deck chairs
Sticks of rock candy floss and bottles of soda pop
Sand castles and buckets and spades
Dad with binoculars pretending to look out to sea
But looking at the bikini hot babes
Little child paddles in the sea
Little child has a pee
Ice cream and jellyfish
Punch and Judy ventriloquists
Bare flesh everywhere sea breeze tussles hair
Walruses laid on beach towels everywhere
Courting couples walking hand in hand
Games of cricket and Beach ball on the sand
Annoying music steaming from someone's radio
A scream goes out as a crab bites someone's toe
The smell of suntan lotion mixed with sweat
And the smell of cigarettes
Waves rolling upon the shore
A baby wanting it's diaper changing lets out a might roar
Burgers and hot dog's from a van
Guy's with muscles parading the beach as though saying to the girls
Look at me I'm all real man
As the girls giggle and wiggle
As the hot Sun smiles down
On a day by the sea.
Peter Dome.Copyright.2015. May.
Summer is one of the favorites seasons for the following:
1. Beach
2. Sun
3. Vacations
4. Suntan lotion
5. Castles in the sand
6. Parasailing
7. Boats
8. Camping
Example for Summer Sight Contest
5-11-2016