Each Summer blossom, rustle of the trees,
Spring’s over, I know your work is all done.
Every bird in flight, every gentle breeze,
Summertimes here to have fun in the sun.
Still glowing brightly, is the colored moon,
Wonderful perfumes drifting so sprightly,
Excitement of surprises coming soon,
Summer sun shining, shimmering slightly.
By the seaside the ocean is churning.
Such sunsets, the skies drenched in purest gold,
Notes you send, to tell me you’re returning,
Stunning scenes, fields of flowers to behold.
These wonders I cherish deep in my soul.
So when Summer comes round, I'm feeling whole.
Summertimes sunshine, melts alpines snowline ~ waters ice cold, crystalline.
cascading torrents
tumbling atop limestone rocks ~
flowers awaken
Wild meadows emerge, sweet scents grace fresh air,
from alpine flowers, in bloom, everywhere.
Violet blue snowbells, to white edelweiss,
waterfalls rainbows, earths own paradise.
6 / 10 / 2023.
Sponsor Tania Kitchin.
Contest. A Monoku, Haiku and 4 lines of Rhyme - Same theme.
Only for a moment
she stood beside me as mine
she promised to love forever
that day she stood striong and kind
she promised me her love
in an endearing promising jesture
she kissed me to seal the deal
and said she'd be mine forever
Ode to Love
might I celebrate our eagerness
as we are together
Nights before and days that
end endoring through and through
I stand proud to kiss you
hold your hand
as your lover
falls and springs
summertimes and
Winters chorest needs
I labor to honor
our love with one another
to stand opposse to
our unraveling
and promise to love each other
I remember the summertimes,
Eating and munching on watermelon
It was refreshing sometimes,
Beating the heat and swimming on
A hot, breezy summer as a skinny boy
Now, I’m a biggo adult in Lake Havasu’s heat
I have become sick and tend to annoy
My dad while he tries to sleep, but I keep thinking of the watermelon I am bound to eat
Swimming in the pool, we enjoy the sun.
Playing boule, we all have fun.
Everybody loves their food, life is good
Every best friend in one neighborhood
One of few days in some Summertimes.
I love this town with almost no crimes.
Suddenly my phone loudly rings
I start to fly almost like I had wings.
I wonder why my mother calls
She is with my dad at Yosemite Falls
Over the hills, she says they hiked across
And out of nowhere, my dad slipped on pasta sauce
He fell down the hill and broke his leg
Oh thank you god he is not dead!
He was brought to hospital by helicopter
My mother cries and I tried to stop her
All my friends still swimming in the garden
On the TV some highlights of James Harden
Within seconds, my dad is ruined
A beautiful evening with a screwed up end.
poetic licence... the freedom of the pen...
to transcribe what... where... why and when...
dancing daffodils in tune with spring...
tiny bluebells... o we could hear them ring...
spring or summer dawn... or be it eve...
the joy of both can oft stress relieve...
springtime the summertimes overture...
ripening life... by fall some will mature...
floral fruits... as mother nature planned...
sustaining life now ain't that grand...
sustenance for many forms of life...
by some perceived as mortal strife...
natural life... as poets often transcribe...
we all eat with a passion just to stay alive...
Sonnet Poetry Contest sponsored by John Hamilton
2/6/18
SUMMERTIMES MAGIC.
Summertimes magic makes a fine holiday,
Where lands of enchantment, invite us to stay.
The lure of the wild, or, in peaceful solace,
These wonderful places we love to embrace.
To dive coral reefs, with it's blues and the greens of aquamarine,
Or tantalise tastebuds, with exquisite cusine.
By dining al fresco, while taking a cruise,
And drink cocktails at eight, mixed with green chartreuse.
With the tang of sliced lemon or sweet tangerine,
Those bountiful fruits will keep palates clean.
A walk on the wild side, delightfully charms,
With the heady perfume, passing lavender farms.
Those waysides and byways, when we need to refresh
At watermelon stalls quenching thirsts we stay fresh.
From the pale lilac crocus, a fine yellow spice,
For exotic dishes, saffron flavoured, served with rice.
All beautiful memories, under cerulean skies,
It's summertimes magic, which fill misty eyes.
8/ 16/ 2017.
Beautiful butterflies basking in sunshine,
Feasting on flowers, while spreading their wings.
Sipping sweet nectar, from floral fountains,
Dancing duets, like puppets on strings.
Proud painted ladies, all airs and graces,
Laying their eggs onto nettles with stings.
A riot of colour, creates a live canvas,
Summertimes magic, bewitchingly brings.
1/ 10/ 2017.
I love the sunrise, soothing nightmares embraces.
The thrill as sunlight mirrors life, on clear blue waters
Adoring the sunshine, caressing summertimes beaches.
To gaze at sunsets, with nostalgic feelings.
Believing the secret of all creation.
Is an eternal flame that shines radiantly.
had no central air
only a fan and window
so happy to live
It's the first day of summer,
When we sit on the fresh green grass,
When the sun rays bring us warmth,
When our visions reflect the blue sky above,
When the fragrance of flowers linger in our heart
When our laughter was a tune in the air...
And it's the end of summer,
When you sit me on a crushed flower,
When the rays of sun become faint,
When our vision can see the dark sky,
When you let the rain kiss my cheek,
And the silence is the only thing we can hear....
Happy Heat
I had no Huck Finn
sort of existence except
for summertimes
at the lake.
Walking the state road,
tar melting like licorice
as I worked it with my shoes.
air shimmered ahead.
Sure I saw puddles,
I was always fooled.
Upon approaching the enigmatic sizzle,
it was dry as a bone.
Now I step back into youth’s
mirages where life was glucose,
easily digested, and I never looked
behind except to see how far I’d come.
In my place of distance,
the simple sound of leaves
in the wind flailing to escape
undulating branches brings me back.
Oh I am happy now
…. Yet…,
Then….
forward was limitless.
Today the future is slightly bound.
Pretend puddles puzzle me still.
We stumbled out of the professor's house drunk and dazed
Cackling in that conspicuous way about something his wife had said.
The outdoor air was tight and crisp in contrast with
The kitchened cat-haired aura of the professor's home
and my companions' eyes glinted in the reflection of slick streets and sweaty moon.
New flares of laughter and I turned back to see the most beautiful girl
Sprawled face-up on the sidewalk,
Her lilac tutu once gaudy now rendered lyrical when placed on misty cement.
She rose and we trudged onwards, shattering the suburban night
With shouts about Boston, hidden summertimes, and pending separations.
The most beautiful girl shone unaware of sticky leaves clinging to her tutu
But I said nothing, for tomorrow would bring blinding desert and crushed-leaf memories
And I needed to save words (and leaves) on this last night of being broken with strangers
Like this most beautiful tutued girl
Who saved me far more than any other had dared under this indifferent moon.
Springtime's solice knows no gentle breeze
Only summertimes hurricane's are appropriate for this superb occasion
Thrashing around, what a hideous sound she wishes she was in Savannah
Spiraling out of control the trap has been set
The sucker takes the bait and gets caught in the magnificant eye, unable to free
herself from this bositerous beast
Free the weary, free the teary, release the meek, release the weak
Untie the hands that bound the prisoner unable to break free of the evil captor.
Captors get caught in their own net if they are not careful!
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