Youth is in a grand flush, like the hot days of ending summer; and pleasant dreams thrall your spirit, like the smoky atmosphere that bathes the landscape of an August day.
quote by Donald G. Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer’s Now Coming Near
Summer’s now coming near
Nature in its bright giving
Soon again is spring’s year
In the freshly days of living
Ground with new blossoms
In colored shade symphony
Tinctured in fairest bosoms
Whitish and yellow lemony
Easter days impending April
From under snow-white drift
Innovation so much undeniable
In their inventive makeshift
Summer summer‘s soon here
In its delicate scent pleasures
Shining burgeons in its hair
Days of breathing treasures
Now the night is growing thin
In the brightness days ahead
Summer dreams in their spin
With growth in gardens bed
Their Love songs never ending
Tides of variation atmosphere
So much happiness blending
As the new emblems appear
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Last Days of Summer
Whatever the way the summer days end,
In the type of summer is how it has been,
Whether a good one or bad one,
The last days of summer,
Can be sad or happy endings,
As each season ends,
With another one beginning,
The summer could have been,
Miserable yet,
Sun scorching us everyday,
And sunlight shining on all our faces,
It is how it is,
Out there where all is seen,
In,
Summer days of fun,
Summer days of love,
Summer days of seeing,
Summer days of been,
Out and about where summer is,
And when summer came and went?
With a mundane feeling that it left?
Was the last days of summer,
And the begining of another,
Autumn as we know it,
Fall in other places,
Where the ending of one season shows,
By the decaying of it,
When Autumn Fall shows,
Where we will wrap up and snuggle,
With warm cuppas drinks,
With a book,
Or,
Catch up on watching films,
Yet,
Still,
Musing over the summer days,
Of sunshine memories,
Now,
Warm hats and gloves,
With rustle leaves,
That rustle beneath,
Our feet as we walk,
Through the park,
And see,
The summer leaves turn,
To autumn shades,
Taking in,
The last days of summer,
Reflecting,
And remember,
The falls of Autumn's,
Is the signs of summer,
That has ended,
And minglings with,
All that falls,
From the summer ending,
To autumn beginnings,
Is the,
Decaying,
Of summer,
To regrow itself,
For next season's of summer,
When it begins again,
Yet,
In between,
There's,
Autumn,
Winter,
Spring,
Till,
Again,
Last days of summer,
And all in bloom again.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Summer Dreams Buzz By
Shrug off lazy blowflies buzzing summer days
youth dreams of grand destiny dared awaiting
exploits theirs of earth shattering consequences
waiting earth remains indifferent to such daring
shrugs off nats blowflies bugs buzzing summer days
summer seasons change ripe wider world constantly.
Shrug off blowflies buzzing long summer days
yeast young dream their grand destiny awaiting
exploits theirs ripple trigger earth shattering debating
the wider world remains indifferent to hollow deceit
landscapes are recast in more physical energetic heat
trodden down first are fearful talked played out meek.
Shrug off blowflies buzzing long summer days.
Swat or spray bothersome time lost away totally.
Summer seasons exchange radical retrograde intolerantly.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Summer's Ode
~0~
A summer's fallen from the sky, it seems,
with heat a'waving in the sultry breeze.
Though June has fled 'pon wings of time, now gone,
its goodbye echoes through the swaying trees.
And July brings its days of warmth to hold,
with sun a'melting in a sapphire sky.
O'summer's middle-aged by now, alas,
breathing fire upon the days that pass us by.
A gentle turn of earth brings August near,
with fleeting day and ever-ending night.
And July passes through the summer's rain,
its thunder heard within a season's flight.
And so, a summer's aged with sweet remorse,
with days a'dwindling down 'til chill's return.
Yet, September still must sing its last refrain,
'ere summer days of memory swiftly burn.
A summer's fallen from the sky, it seems,
with heat a'wavering as its days grow old.
Though bittersweet the parting soon will be,
goodbye echoes with a promise ~ made of gold.
~0~
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Summer Days of Yesteryear
We often live surveying the past
as a summer season comes around,
and selecting the days of living freely
in our memory will be found.
We scrutinize the events of other Summers
experiencing great pleasure and delight
that once we knew when we were just
youngsters when life seemed to be all right.
Through the fading days of yesteryear
we filled our life with many dreams.
From childhood days to adulthood days
it was just a natural step it seems.
We miss the thrills that once was ours
the days we felt were always free.
We live it over each Summer time
and always remains a pleasant memory.
Too swiftly is the flight of time,
Though plentiful be the exuberant ways
that lead us down memory lane
to the scenes of other Summer days.
Though another Summer season shall end,
One wish for all of you we hold
May Summer always bring an abundance
of joy and memories a hundred fold.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Swallows in the summertime
Swallows in the summertime
The swallows have returned again,
Reminding me of those halcyon days of my youth,
Many years have passed since those blissful days,
I would spend many happy evenings watch them dart around.
The swallows always return each summer,
Spreading their joyful wings over England's green and pleasant land,
Every summer I wonder how many more times will I see the return,
Although it's summer again, I ‘am approaching the winter of my life.
When the swallows return again next year again,
I wonder if I will still be here to see them again,
Flying on the wing under the clear blue skies of summer,
If I ‘am, I will sit by the babbling brook and watch their dance once more.
If I see the swallows return once more,
I will remember those summer days of long ago,
When I was a lad and the countryside seemed to go on forever,
And in my mind I will be young again.
By Christopher Tye
poem by Christopher Tye
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The Days Of Summer
All the days of summer
Is ending now
All the nights of summer
Are now just sweet memories
Let’s set together
Let’s have a cup of tea
And let’s remember
The days of summer
The beautiful evenings
We had together
At that park…
I climb the mango tree
And you look at me
With your beautiful eyes
How can you forget?
Tell me how can you forget? ? ?
The days of summer
We had together…
All the night
Setting under moon light
I told you some jokes
Just to see your smile
All those memories
I packed in bags
I kept it like treasure
I can’t show you
Because the days of summer
Are over…
poem by Shyama Mohapatra
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A Warm August Day In Old Duhallow
A warm August day in old Duhallow far north of here and miles away
And swallows high o'er sunlit meadows scenting sweetly of mown hay
And songbirds silent on the hedgerows in Summer you seldom hear them sing
they always pipe their finest in the prime months of the Spring.
A warm day in August in the fields of Knocknagree
And old gray faced rook is cawing on high branch of elm tree
And the magpie he is chattering as into the grove he fly
From once seen and heard he's one that's not hard to identify.
A warm day by Clara mountain by the old Town of Millstreet
And the skylark is not singing o'er the bracken in the heat
In the warm days of late Summer he doesn't feel the urge to fly
High above the sunlit mountain for to carol in the sky.
A warm day in August and the drains of water dry
And the old man says often in August I've seen water flowing bank high
And the long range weather forecast is the weather will be fine
And that at least another fortnight of warm days and sunshine.
A warm August day in Duhallow and the farmer in short sleeves
And the temperatures quite pleasant around 25 degrees
Still it can't be very long now till the cool winds of change blow
And the Paps and Caherbarnagh will be in their hats of snow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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August
August brings so many things to mind
Like county fairs with fun foods and rides easy to find.
Catfish scream louder than ever for our fishing poles,
Inviting us to joyous jaunts at our favorite watering holes.
The dog days of summer start drawing to a close,
But there’s still time for a lake visit or just a sprinkler hose.
August August, we thank you for your role in this summer.
Without you no doubt this season would be a real bummer.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Thru These Architects Eyes
Stomping along on this big philips johnson
Is delay just wasting my time
Looking across at richard rogers
Scheming dreams to blow both their minds
Its difficult you see
To give up baby
To leave a job
When you know the moneys from day to day
All the majesty of a city landscape
All the soaring days of our lives
All the concrete dreams in my minds eye
All the joy I see thru these architects eyes
Cold winter bleeds on the girders of babel
This stone boy watching the crawling land
Rings of flesh and the towers of iron
The steaming caves and rocks and the sand
Stomping along on this big philips johnson
Is delay just wasting my time
Its difficult you see
To give up baby
These summer scumholes
This goddamned starving life
All the majesty of a city landscape
All the soaring days of our lives
All the concrete dreams in my minds eye
All the joy I see thru these architects eyes
Its difficult you see
Its difficult you see
All the majesty of a city landscape
All the soaring days in our lives
All the concrete dreams in my minds eye
All the joy I see thru these architects eyes
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweetest Days Ever Known
Sitting in McDonald's
Watching my youngest / last
Frolic in the 'playland'.
I consume coffee, she drinks in simple joy.
Knowing full well
How so soon and suddenly
These days will sadly be all through;
I've seen the days
Quickly come and go,
I see adulthood, like a lion, charging us...
A repeat of when my first / oldest
Stopped playing in those children's
Care-free days and ways.
- Though I must confess
Whenever she still calls me 'daddy'
My heart says a thank you to God.
(Perhaps now, in some sense,
I begin to see, to understand
How He feels toward us.)
I watch her play,
Laugh and dance;
I love her sweetness,
Innocence and unconditional spirit...
With praise I give God thanks for them both.
And for the wonderful times we've had,
The times of youth, and the times beyond,
The past, present, and future.
Still, I cannot help but wish
These sweet, wonder-filled, loving days
Of beautiful youth would linger on,
And last a while longer,
Than they have.
I am so grateful for what has been,
And what yet shall be;
Lord, be with my children,
Your children, eternally. Amen.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Song. Written On A Blank Page In Beaumont And Fletcher's Works
1.
Spirit here that reignest!
Spirit here that painest!
Spirit here that burneth!
Spirit here that mourneth!
Spirit! I bow
My forehead low,
Enshaded with thy pinions!
Spirit! I look
All passion struck,
Into thy pale dominions!
2.
Spirit here that laughest!
Spirit here that quaffest!
Spirit here that danceth!
Spirit here that pranceth!
Spirit! with thee
I join in the glee,
While nudging the elbow of Momus!
Spirit! I flush
With a Bacchanal blush,
Just fresh from the banquet of Comus!
poem by John Keats
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The Dog Days Of Summer
June arrived just yesterday, or so it
seemed to be. All that's left is one
more day, then June is history. July
can hardly wait to get here, it's almost
at our door. The days will get much
hotter, then it was the month before.
Just as we're getting used to July, it
too, will be on it's way. Around the
corner lies August, which can make
you rue, the day. If you think July was
hot, August is the worst by far. It's hard
to escape it's sweltering heat, no matter
who you are. You can take a dip in the
ocean, if you enjoy having a steam bath.
The water will never be cold, as August,
unleashes it wrath. Here it is, the
wonderful days of summer. Even though
we look forward to it, it can also be quite
a bummer!
poem by Audrey Heller
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Vanishing Summer Light
Vanishing summer light
August is coming to end twilight
wraps itself around the olive grove
earlier than a few days before and
after five, sun sinks into the sea with
an almost unseemly haste.
The evening breeze is still mild but
carries pockets of cooling air like
a lover who is preparing to leave,
only waiting for the right time and
I sense the beginning of unsolvable
melancholic loss.
The village’s lane is dark, yet moon
is full, but doesn’t reach into my
heart that aches for the past, those
days in May when the future was
moving to never ending summers.
So, farewell then fly with the wind
Be gone! I will, as always, walk on
hidden tracks and in the shadow of
a carob tree sense your presence and
ask for one more summer.
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
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[ Late August ]
Heat still sizzles in the fields
In August summer still yields
The sun shines to no regret
Wind sauntering 'til sunset
'though heat is being cool off by the rain
Preserving flowers, and meadow - green
But summer still taking what it brings
The August incense with fugacious wings
Bounty blooms, butterflies, bees are insane
Birds, crickets sing and the night listens
Summer's sky, bright burst so clear
It's the late August in summer's fair
Summer in August still in standby
Sooner balmy weather is coming by
The hot temper will bicker with cool air
With soothing breeze here comes September
Ency Bearis
(c) copyright 2012
poem by Ency Bearis
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Can't it be August again?
Can't it be August again?
When the trees swayed
With the last breath of summer upon them
The way I laughed
Without a care in the world
Summer tans beginning to linger away
And soon disappear
Can't it be August again?
When these emotions didn't exist
And all I felt was happiness
None of this depression
No, none of these feelings
Can't it be August again?
Where junior year was right around the corner
And i had a license in my hand
And car was only coming out of my mouth
Not your name
Can't it be August again?
Where you didn't even exist in my world
poem by Frani Bell
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How can time justify it's brazen desire
How can time justify it's brazen desire
When it's obtuse wheels spin less and less dreams?
The callow youth knows more than aged mans mire
For in his heart there is no doubt the means.
Ideal lowered is a life's wasted lamp
It's sickly glow a waning spirit lights,
Burnt low it lies in feeble dull encamp
Crushed before the unfold days cruel sights.
But youth stands bold before the wind so will
Change many times to mock it's many cants.
For youth uses change with an easy skill
While ages mind creaks along and rants:
'Where did my dreams go wrong? ' For wrong they went,
And dreams abandoned will never relent.
poem by Paul Anthony
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Alone on Vacation
Hot restless August days
Can’t seem to quench my thirst
Dry summer August nights
Can’t seem to get you off my mind
The mornings are even more difficult
I wake up missing you by my side
The sunny beach is a terrible site
I am not alone but alone in the crowd
As I walk alone the burning sands
I hesitated upon my every step
With thoughts of you being left behind
Us separated by the connecting ocean
Rescue me from this scorching summer
I should not be here alone without you
Only you have the perfect warmth
Around you I feel comfortable and calm
poem by Kay Barcelon
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Maths Discovery
Turn into circles as we drag our spheres,
The shapes are plentiful, maybe the danger.
Inside we feel creepy, crawling into supper,
But the circles are condemning us in their glory.
The glory is shaking my head, crept upon
By mathematicians so awesome in writing.
The awe of lords and gentlemen is grand,
Grand is this pleasant news, so pleasant, pleasant news.
poem by Naveed Akram
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It Was One of Those Fine October Days
It was one of those fine October days
free from summer’s heat and haze
but not yet gripped by autumn chill.
It was one of those fine October days
when the sky’s so clear
you can see the moon
through the atmosphere
at midday.
It was one of those fine October days
when the trees sport yellow and red
instead of everyday summer green.
It was one of those fine October days
when one draws a deep breath
and is grateful
to be resident on Earth.
poem by Richard Greene
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