Short Lakeside Poems
Short Lakeside Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Lakeside by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Lakeside by length and keyword.
Lakeside
cool waving waters
rapidly calming wind blows
fish floating resting
7/31/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.© 2020
Sun sets serenely on lakeside.
Our hearts slow to greet the pace.
A deep breath's so soothing.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
Gentle sun has said goodbye.
The weeping willow cries itself to sleep.
A soothing breeze brings solace.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I can fish on Lake Notashebun
in September for pike: 'Great Northern.'
Known as 'Esox lucius,'
it's so delicious
breaded and deep fried lakeside; that's heaven.
serenity
poised, sedate
calming, relaxing, refreshing
breeze, sunset, bubble bath, lakeside
pleasing, satisfying, restoring
placid, halcyon
tranquility
dim clouds drift-
through a lavender sky
full moon floats-
in the deepening shade
as silvery stars-
appear with a sigh
like shimmering tears-
for a loon serenade.
Within this summer dream
Housed and bedded
Willow-arched, willow-awned
Buzz of cares slay.
Whilst that, cruel-edged, afar
As hard, no more
For city's hive shapes it.
Faded away.
Patriotism and Holidays seem to go hand-in-hand
Fire up the BBQ; strike up the brass band
Picnics down by the lakeside; it's all mighty grand
Though I'd rather be known for my love of this land
The water, sandy shore, lush hills, swaying trees, the smart lakeside houses and
boated fishermen in the breeze from the Spit of the largest reservoir in England's
smallest county completed our beautiful Spring day in the Midlands.
Dreams unshackled by sleep
A shooting star by campfire light
Miles unhindered by a voice
A lakeside stroll in day’s last light
Music shared within two hearts
A dance alone but never lonely
Laughter washes over sorrows
A love not lost as mine and only
Form:
Yesterday was NOT like all other days, it was special
Spent early morning lakeside watching nature's spectacle
Wild life before man's intervention
A quiet scene beyond description
Of peace and harmony, life's lofty peak, it's pinnacle
Yesterday was NOT like other days, it was special
Spent early morning lakeside watching nature's spectacle
Wildlife before man's intervention
A quiet scene beyond description
Of peace and harmony, life's lofty peak, it's the pinnacle
Squatting lakeside
darting swimmers
at their feet.
Shouldered burdens
over shadow even
family time.
Prayers for Peace
carried in whispers
breath after breath.
Gods coloring book
pages of hope,
peace, beauty.
Just inhale
the wonder!
Red thoughts racing like maroon heart
Eyes embracing goal far as yellow star
Violets growing lakeside in paisley park
Embracing natural brown beauty to start
Rosey bush with thorns that hook
Indeed just a design for protection
Emerald energetic leaves look for dreams suggestion
My heart is swelling in my throat
Candid emotions trespassing this note...
Love is the only cure to my heart
A cloud of fire depicting my past
Now that you have finally arrived,
trust and care would dwell inside.
My eternal lover we are not born to die...till we meet by the lakeside.
.......
I saw you on the lake.
You have a nice tan,
you glistened, wet, and smiled.
We waved halfheartedly, at a distance.
It was one of those 2020 moments.
We are distanced by discipline,
desires sheltered in place.
Mine are burned, as fuel,
for piquant eclogues or rest,
unused, like nuclear waste.
By lakeside path
Breeze strays enough
Wind hurls dry leaves
As gifts to give
I walk on by
Attend to sighs
A stray thought finds
Sans peace of mind
A lone tear drop
Ends my flip-flop
I come to meet
The fear I greet
No much is said
With silence paid
Leon Enriquez
18 January 2018
Singapore
By foreshore brink
A curious think
The lakeside draught
Hurls icy stuff
Cold air swirls flair
To flush cold fare
We walk around
Chilly strides ground
Lovely flats here
Prompt cost most clear
Hot coffee sips
In a warm grip
Kingston foreshore
Now tells me more
Leon Enriquez
17 May 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT
The screen door
Of the lakeside cabin
Is carved with slices
The size of claws
From the jumping family dog
Of long ago
From which fish flies skim through
The moonlit din
Thinning
Themselves
Into those slots
Dropped
Like silver coins
Into the lamp light
Of the cabin
Hoping it’s enough
To re-start the cuckoo clock
Left for dead
On my old man’s wall.
a question of definition
camping?
luxuries au wilderness
juxtaposition
air conditioned lassitude
with untouched raw nature
three piece baths
next to outhouses
wheels rolling through trees
electric lights break
the pristine dark
camp-fire-crackle ambiance
food microwaved
hot running water, lakeside
even the chipmunks shun
mere bread
for more sumptuous fare.
Who are you, Winter Snow?
Where children laughed and played?
I lost my mind in a lakeside tide
Locked inside a February Rain.
Who were you, Winter Sunset?
Your light so soft and warm.
I lost my mind in a lakeside tide
Trapped inside a February Storm.
Who am I, Melted Winter?
My memory's wearing so thin.
I lost my mind in a lakeside tide
Whistling on a February Wind.
dear gentle reader's, go out and have fun
the summer is here, visit a bookstore
feel the zaphyr as it touches your face
when sun is up high and
swan's playful game in the lake
sit by the lake with poetry in one hand
watch ladybug climb up your hand
lay down your head on the green grass
watch the paintings that tree shadow paint
forget your tiring efforts, make new memories
Listen to poem:
Lakeside at dawn,
all is calm, quiet, but expectant.
Then, peeping from the silence,
barely discernible
is the sound of whispering wings
stuttering a plaintive beat, intermittent.
It is the flock of fairy terns soaring together
in wavy, gliding flight formation,
just above the sand, just above the waves
returning to their lakeside roost,
to gossip, cheep, squabble and rest.
guitar in your arms
taken to heart
troubadour tempest of free form poetics
playing your part
talk in your sleep
dreams come untrue
mastering mystery-charm for the masses
acting on cue
mistrust in your eyes
callers on hold
awaiting without a clue at the reason
centuries old
guitar in your arms
turn and depart
maverick songs in the voice of a martyr
playing your part
I miss happy sounds of our summers like:
Firecrackers crackling over my head,
The crackling sounds of marshmallows toasting,
My Daughters kite rippling in the lakeside breeze,
Fisherman’s stories that go on boasting,
The sound of sticky aloe vera peeling of my Hawaiian shirt,
I miss the steady clicking sound of my reel,
And the sound of the caryatids as barbecued chicken is roasting,