sparklers
fireworks
fourth of July
our Independence day
picnic
The day I arrived
in my own good time
(not at all shy)
neither early nor late
13th July
I remember it well
t'was a memorable date
as a present from my parents
(their pride and joy a baby boy)
a Wednesday I recall
some time in the morn
the best day of my life after all
for it was the one
on which I was born
The once was a group on Fourth of July
Who partied with all that money could buy
Games and food suited their mood
A flaming dessert seemed good
Until a roman candle torched their pie
may starts summer off.
june best month with birds singing.
july a 250 birthday.
aug is summer ending soon?
fall dressed in pretty colors.
Cicadas drone their sun-drunk, tireless hymn
as July swelters, gold and overfull.
the driveway steams, the plastic buckets brim,
and heat, like dye, won't sit still or stay dull.
We cinch the cotton tight in twisted rings,
as if a knot could hold the blazing tide.
but sweat and color are unruly things:
both spread, both stain, both won't be denied.
Cerulean and crimson breach their line,
seep into one another, slow, unplanned,
and thicken into a hue with no design,
no name the rubber bands prepared it for.
The soda ash unlatches what was sealed;
the color doesn't sit, it moves in deep,
past cotton's threshold, till it's not revealed
but lived in, permanent as things we keep.
So heat unstitches winter's careful fold,
loosens what was buttoned, cinched, and pressed,
and turns the plain, repeated days to gold
the way a fever turns a body's rest.
Unwind the bands. Let August find the proof:
a swirl no ruler's hand could have designed,
the driveway's stain, the sun-bleached, faded roof
of summer, fixed now in the changed mind.
It was quite a hot day in July.
Joe came to our picnic in tie dye.
That shirt looked so crappy
we all lost our happy,
and the little kids started to cry.
“Take your shirt off if you wish to dine,”
we then told him, but things were not fine,
for tattooed on his chest
was what looked like a vest
with his shirt’s awful tie dye design!
The sight of open flowers
Spectacular from towers
Tender petals that amuse
With kaleidoscopic hues
Landscapes in several tints
Resemble modern art prints
The brows of pellucid lakes
Glittering glossy snowflakes
Beautiful divine sunrise
Scintillating brilliant skies
Burning yellow tinged twilight
Sprinkling moonlight as fluorite
Swaying panicles with blooms
Exotic whiffs of perfumes
Originate from one womb
In vivid shades they illume
The lush green blooming valleys
Active fauna with rallies
The alighting garden sprite
Relaxes with much delight
An expo of July dyes
Mellifluous tunes of flies
Nature's astonishing fete
Offers a visual treat
Place: Honourable Mention
Tie-Dye in July
Everyone has different colors inside them,
and they express them differently.
Personally, mine would be:
Red for love,
Blue for sadness,
Yellow for happiness,
Purple for dreams,
Black for pain,
Green for growth.
See, when people only see the outside,
they create theories and make a whole story
and start judging other people by their color—
not only their color,
but the story they create about who they are.
Sometimes I just wish people would get to really know a person,
so much that everyone’s colors could combine
and make a big rainbow,
so that we could all put our differences together
and make something beautiful.
Even the people judging have colors inside.
Everyone has different colors,
and they express them differently.
Blossomings of bird bugs
Little red buds
Spotted sides
And shortlived glides
With a talent of finding thugs
AUTHORS NOTE
[A little Julia Donaldson tribute limerick!] - Faeren
Goodbye July, it’s been so fun
With your longer days and hot sun
Now we must part ways, it’s time
To welcome in August this summertime
August will be special and sublime
With its long dog days and just in time
And will bring us special summer gifts
As the days shorten and the climate shifts
The summer fairs will soon begin
with many rides, food and games to win
Kids will beg to go there to eat and play
A rite of summer that’s here to stay
Hummingbirds will be out to score
Before leaving again to fuel up more
Beautiful hydrangeas will bloom until fall
It will soon be the end of summer for us all
The end of July
Means the summer’s half gone,
Though the season’s activities
Keep going on.
Yet with camps winding down,
School supplies on the shelves,
We must face what’s ahead -
No deceiving ourselves.
I, for one, will not miss
The hot weather and sweat
And, as autumn approaches,
I surely won’t fret.
I look forward to jackets
And crisp chilly air,
Back to all those routines
For which we must prepare.
Though I’m jumping the gun -
There’s still August ahead,
Which I fear will not match
How July’s somehow fled.
drizzle
mizzle
soft drops
heat stops
refresh
cool mesh
rain pours
sound roars
bright'ning
lightning
thunder
stumper
puddle
muddle
rain, rain
again
tie dye in July
swirling summer memories
back to school halts this
Silky white web art thrown like paint
Precious pearl like pride unlike saint
In it’s ebony eyes many bugs a delight
Doomed to demise as live dinner tonight
Emerald June bug passively to die
Red sun conceals web in jaded July
conceptual cadency can calmly context
my monarchist mineralogist motivated memento
norway neurologist needlessly noteworthy
preemptive price packaged port
retread reversion relaxin radical rider
savour serviceable servitude
substantive silken spinnaker spookily stimulated symmetry
touchingly tense text through their thanksgiving
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 27–August 2, 2026)
July Categories
Definition | What is July in Poetry?
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