September where have you been?
The June days burnt my smooth skin,
in July it was hot and I needed extra sun screen.
August was fun pool time with us all-in.
Finally lovely September to break-in,
with many wonderful holidays to begin.
Life goes out but faith will not from this body
Heads may be cut but Islam will not from this land
A holy town of Quran you are at your starboard crescent
Mountains and rocks all cry out freedom and word of testament
Did not sell himself for a few bucks to a few predatories
Shielded his chest to dishonests that are coming by F-16s
Did not give his liberty his sovereignity his future
Left his mother his father and his lover
Left his wealth but hasn't left his homeland
There it is real army real soldier
Inside it private every patriot
Went out at 15th July and showed heroism
It is impossible not to show him admirism
Walked on tanks shielded himself to bullets
As long as don't let country be given away to zionists
Today Gülen is death and coup plotters are at jail trap
USA's forty yeared project in one night has gone to trash
Turks has showed how Muslims are to America's stepsons and CIA
I have some fruit trees in my backyard.
Cooler dawns we ripely say hello, sweet
and sour occasions~ the lemons you know.
With a little cooperation, fertilizer, a bit
more water when dry, I find mostly sand can
be quite agreeable, even in a desert.
Diverted irrigation, flooding the property
every 2 weeks is a big help. Salt River
our wet angel. Occasionally the blanching Sun does feign
sympathy: a bit Less luster, grace enough that allows
clouding for a blessed evening drench. Now and
then on rising, a gentler gleam, for lingering morning dew
that does not go unnoticed and appreciated. At times occurs
a suspicious, easier on the eyes, toning down of
fiery afternoon skies~ maybe courtesy of UFO’s? I don’t know.
This time of year, in Phoenix, very predictable
temperatures: Half past hot or a quarter to Hell.
I'm sorry I didn't bring
roses to your funeral.
I brought a Christmas
wreath instead.
I didn't want to symbolize
your withering,
I wanted to represent your
eternity,
and the joy you brought
others instead.
Empyrean drops,
Monument of July,
The pluvial chapter of life...
O July of enfeebled yolk,
Dispenser of splendour of sempervirence,
God has watered your tongue.
Therefore, pour, July, pour
The essence of life,
The grit of living
Unto the bosom of the
Seventh month and other
Months of parturition.
Let us conceive in July,
To bear in good season,
Sons of courage...
Wearing festal garments
And adorning our heads with sepia cloths,
This shall reinforce hope.
In front of the monument of July,
(A slouching image of sleepy rain)
Right on its wet feet,
Shall we bless the earth abundantly.
O July,
Bearer of thirty-one offspring,
Male and female, dew and fog,
So full of grains of years,
Frenzied and dancing your rites
Together with the age of insistent youth!
Middle age is when neither youth nor old age
Finds you worthy...
They sing:
The perception of the pristine green
Aroma of July
Is often the first of the rites
Of the seventh month.
The Last Night in July
(I think)
by Evelyn Aimarie
It is the last night in July
(I think)
And this pink Moscato tastes like you.
Memories dance to the sound of crickets chirping,
Their legs rubbing bottle brush bristles
against my brain,
Scratching an itch I didn’t know I had.
I think I will call it—
Childhood,
Memory?
Lightning bugs rave in succession,
Primordial neighbor to the procession.
Release.
The wine harmonizes—
Honeysuckle exposed, sunray-damp.
Heat lightning remembrance, relative air.
Even the starlight lingers,
Pressing the mother Sun’s legacy of heat
into the blanket of the night sky.
Pulsing,
Sweat-drop breeze,
Kissing my lips sloppily but with a softness.
Like fingertips across my face,
Frizzing my hair like the hands of lovers—
And I exhale my heartless day
Into the musical
Of the last night in a small town, Southern July—
(I think.)
JULY SEARING SWELTERING
Heated hot placement boils torrid;
Desert a blazed atomic fire;
Summer hot breath balmy pungent;
Searing aromatic spiced boils;
~
Summery canicular toasty;
Seething is fervent fiery;
Heated hot placement boils torrid;
Summer hot breath balmy pungent;
~
In this muggy sizzling fervid
Scalding warm glowing July day
7/30/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
JULY'S LAMENT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
heatwave
leaves sighing for a cool embrace
July’s lament
Nobody told me
The fear of losing
For loving someone so hard
Was something so harsh
Saw you then not too long after
Give or take just years later
Turned my head back, saw your smile
Happiest I've felt in a while
I'm waking up and rubbing two blinded eyes,
The crispness of the sweet-scented air in whimpering July
Rapidly spreads by a benevolent wind that pleases,
It allows me to discover by intent a sublime reality,
Which is the morning's picturesque beauty:
Does strong belief interfere with a sense of great friability?
Nature can be brutal or pleasant, and yet it can fascinate
Us, when it suddenly embraces each sense to compensate
For the discontent left by a dreamless and unrestful night;
What we hear amid those eerie shadows is the cry of a cricket!
I distinctly revoke such repulsing and unenthralling nights
As I wash their macabre images off with cold, running water;
Is a better day coming, prompting actions that don't falter?
Harm is done when pain is accepted and tomorrow frightens.
In this morning's picturesque beauty, I could lose myself
And wish that dreaming vainly detaches me from grief,
not seeing any delusional mirage on the journey to happiness;
I've expelled the vile demons that made me spew lies!
With keen eyes, I follow July’s evening
Spread its blended palette of amber tints,
Of varnish 'midst interlude of showers
That I enter into nature's mystique;
Before me— an avian carousal
A radiant skyscape where nightingales
And jays reel from warmth of moonlight, aflame
Circling within rare space of equinox:
Birds' flights slowly disengaging for now
From interludes of pewter pewter dew.
First place
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Evegrhhfb under the sun dies too
Clouds rapidly fluctuating, from chalky white to smoky ash.
Rain falling down from the darkened sky.
Leaving a subtle scent of fresh earthy tones in its wake.
Why is Sumner such a short time?
Just getting started,
then running into half past summer.
July seems to be the half way mark,
August is almost here.
August will turn into September then into October,
then fall will be here.
Fall with cooler days,
a pretty carpet of colorful leaves covering the ground.
A SUMMER JUXTAPOSITION)
Wow…90 degrees!
Suddenly, white clouds...dark blue:
Then, steaming rain falls
Specific Types of July Poems
Definition | What is July in Poetry?