Long Humid Poems
Long Humid Poems. Below are the most popular long Humid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Humid poems by poem length and keyword.
We fought, we laughed,
we wrestled in play.
For years, on the very same bed
we lay.
Into the night, we'd whisper and quiver,
under twenty quilts, we'd shiver.
Mom would always tuck us in
then the freezing cold began.
By three AM, she'd soon arrive
To see if we were still alive.
We shared one bed. One closet,
one chest
On which our Hai Karate rest.
Then summer came with heat
and sweat.
Whose pillow was whose,
we'd often fret.
Heat so hot, we bathed the sheets.
A fly and gnat and mosquito feast.
A window fan blew nice hot air.
That wet and humid room
we'd share.
That 'antique' bed, it creaked and dipped.
Under crispy sheets we slipped.
Jokes were told; prayers were said.
Thankful at least to share a bed.
Thankful at least to have a bed.
I thought I’d have to leave my favored spot
and go inside this warm and humid day.
My pleas for respite must have been perceived,
for Nature sent a lilting, soothing breeze.
My car took out the worst day of the year.
I shivered violently while trudging home.
Then, welcomed by my loving family
and fireplace flames, I felt so richly blessed.
But Nature’s Air and Fire aren’t always mild.
When they unite, they devastate with fear,
destruction, and dismay. Wildfires will spread,
for many miles encouraged by high winds,
destroying lives and homes. Recovery
will come quite slowly, if it comes at all.
Noon, the twelve o'clock hour
when the sun is released from the clouds power,
whisked away by a humid wind vane
following the flood of morning rain
glazed haze on the canopy of trees
and all is well to see.
Quiet slips in from the night
where crickets and cicadas sang in flight,
lonesome songs of the darkness flow
beneath the faint moon glow
where the stars played peek a boo
then slept as dreams accrue..
Hot, humid day crawling in with ease,
slip sliding thru the soft breeze
that brushes loose drops of rain
fallen on the branches tamed
held snug and cuddled on the leaves of green
falling now to earth unseen.
Summer days quickly passing by
hurrying beyond June and July,
racing into August sighs
for the seasons constant changing skies
and the end of summer chains
spring to summer to autumn rains.
Just on the cusp cold languishes in wait
unwilling to hold back or hesitate
as grass pales to yellows and browns
ready for the fall upon the ground
as fruit and flower begin to fall
the noonday sun reveals it all.
No matter how long you look to the sky
Rain wouldn't fall if there are no clouds;
So engage the sun, warm up your oceans
And uplift humid air as high as you can--
And keep repeating till misty clouds form.
Stars don't appear till the advent of dark,
So take your sunny day on a joyous ride--
Let it shine in beauty of traversing the arc
Until on horizon meets crimson twilight
Readying lucent stage for a starry night.
Sun won't rise till the dawn makes a call,
So take the nightfall on the hunt for light
Rotating the earth till you hear birdsongs
Making your way through retreating fog
To witness the dawning of golden vistas.
Now you are glad you can make rainfall,
Happy as well you will conquer the stars,
And find your path to your own aurora.
April 28, 2019
HM: Strand choice J contest by Brain Strand
Infection Sublime
by Odin Roark
with his lone return
on this New York street
in middy’s humid heat
he did see shutters closed
behind antique glass
whose reflection reminded
he wasn’t born there
only grew up in the embrace
of a brownstone haven
the oldness
now new
restoration hipster style
closing his eyes
he remembered
battered front door
yapping terrier just inside
forever on guard for landlady safety
the nightly dash
up dark stairs to the 3rd floor
evading the heel-nipping
four-legged devil incarnate
opening his eyes
blazing sun reflected back
like a searing message
“isn’t it time to move on?”
he sensed the warning
but no one appeared
no one stared from behind
invisible lace curtains
there was no one
sidewalk bare
street deserted
not even the ubiquitous taxi horns
no
he was alone
in Manhattan’s summer heat
the kind of thermal suffocation
forcing the discomfort of false memories
the kind he didn’t need
when melancholy’s purity
would always walk beside him
such was the newly sterilized street
the occupants unaware
how sublime yesteryear’s infection
They filed his blood beneath a numbered case—
the marrow went to war without a call.
The VA counted cells, not what took place
in basements where his stare could split the wall.
The cancer knew his secrets—mutiny
against Guam’s humid silence, its red debt
claimed as the twenty-one guns thoomed in key.
We stood. We nodded. No one cried. Not yet.
There’s money now, for toxin’s wrongful death,
Agent Orange crusading through his bones.
But not for years of learning that a breath
is held—not for the legacy of tones.
They pay for what his blood became, not how
it taught us all to disappear. Lie down.
Maimed in Miami’s neon glare,
Dead in Dallas under blood-red skies,
Cut short in California’s golden air,
Obliterated where Oklahoma lies.
Consumed in Colorado’s mountain shade,
Fired in Florida’s humid, fevered breath,
Killed in Kentucky’s shadowed glade,
Torn in Texas by the hand of death.
Murdered in Michigan’s cold embrace,
Shattered in Chicago’s restless night,
Nabbed in New York’s frantic pace,
Critical where Connecticut’s lights burn bright.
Gunned in Georgia’s sultry, silent fields
Mad men wielding iron forged in rage,
Liberty twisted for the fool who yields
to chaos, where no reason turns the page.
They cannot spell the sacred worth of breath,
nor grasp the fragile pulse that time has lent;
a culture fractured, courting violent death,
where guns replace the quiet argument.
Yesterday it stained the Texas plain,
tomorrow’s shadow falls on unknown sod
in that wide land where logic lies in chains,
and steel alone decides the will of God.
Julius
The Caesar of
July
7th of month hot
CELSIUS 89%
And rising on
Higher temperatures
Heated temperature WOW!
July
Caesar's birth was quintilis 10th of the month
Originally
Dog days spray clams
Summer thirst birth
So July symbolic ruby stones white water Lily flower
Wishing for rain brain showers it's so hot and dry
It's another summer
July
Season for hot dogs month, daily brunch
Lemonade lunch, and breakfast of cold milk in a bowl of Captain Crunch™
July
Hot degree day, children play
Swimming pool and hydrant parties
Walks through the yard and park with sandals
After dark at night gatherings
Having ice cream on the porch
These are a few things we know about
July
as the sweat rolls down my eyes
Heated so hot are the days hot nights humid these Hot days of
JULY
7/3/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
The Balmy Month of August
During those dog days of summer’s dream-rest,
When crops are robust in days that are hottest,
I sought to find my love peacefully asleep
Under the shady oak tree canopy.
Luscious gladioluses witnessed my jest
When I playfully grass-tickled her neck.
And she, in a stupor, tolerated my nuisance
In the balmy month of August’s presence.
“You are incorrigible,” she awoke to speak,
And scratched the itch I had inflicted.
Then she kissed my hand to make me blush,
In the balmy month of August’s hush.
Where youthfulness swarms the lea and stream
And sultry air nips the nostrils to breathe,
While a kingfisher squats upon the truss
To sunbathe in the balmy month of August.
***
Note:
The month of August is named after Augustus Caesar, the first Roman emperor (63 BC–14 AD). Gladiolus and the poppy are August’s birth flowers. The gladioli (aka sword lily or glad) symbolize strength of character, honour, and love, while the poppy symbolizes eternal rest, oblivion, remembrance, and imagination. August babies are considered lucky, born under the protection of August’s birthstone (the vibrant green rare gem peridot), which symbolizes strength and healing powers.
In the Northern Hemisphere, the “Dog Days” of summer are usually very hot and humid, and last from July 3 to August 11. Sirius (aka the Dog Star) in the constellation Canis Major (The Greater Dog) rises at the same time as the sun.
Dog Days of August
When my friend has something to say,
He lets me know in his own way.
He wags his tail, and pricks his ears,
And barks out loud for me to hear.
Sometimes he’ll act ridiculous
And gets downright cantankerous,
And tongue pants while looking around,
Disgusted when I don’t respond.
And then, for fun, I’ll stare him down,
But he doesn’t flinch, blink, or hound.
He’s the boss and calls the shots,
And when it’s time to go, we hop.
Lucky and I were born in August
During the dog days, which are the hottest.
As the years flew by, we got older.
His face whitened, and I grew taller.
***
Note:
The month of August is named after Augustus Caesar (aka Octavian, 63 BC–14 AD), the first Roman emperor, who reigned from 27 BC until his death in 14 AD. August babies are considered lucky.
In the Northern Hemisphere, the “Dog Days” of summer are usually very hot and humid and last about forty days, from July 3 to August 11. They are so known since Roman times because Sirius (aka the Dog Star), located in the constellation Canis Major (The Great Dog), rises at the same time.