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June

Grilled hot dogs and burgers are the gods of June,
Downed with chips and soda under a silvery moon.
Then there’s a story accompanied by a favorite ballad
Spiced up with some slaw and mom’s potato salad.

Trees and flowers explode in a cascade of tones.
Clouds hail the heavens as they rise from thrones.
Ponds are reborn from life within and on their shore.
Fish, fowl & frog feed and breed in peace once more.

Weddings abound in this month of joy.
It’s the start of freedom for every girl and boy.
Friends and fun need to be the words of each day
As Gemini declares the year is nearing half way.

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rhonda's Day at the Park

Rhonda Wright where have you been today?
I've been at the Community Park to play
What did you and your friends do to have fun?
I hit the baseball into the lake and made a home run

I pushed Billy on the swing; he fell on the ground
He lay there limply for awhile without a sound
Then finally he moaned and took a deep breath.
He brushed himself off, then ran away and wept.

The slide was very tall and had many humps
I sat on waxed paper and bounced the bumps
I slid so fast that I could not stop and crashed
Striking startled Sally as she gallantly dashed

We had a lunch of hot dogs and potato salad.
As we grilled more dogs and sang a country ballad
it started to rain, so we went to the pavilion
Many ants joined our lunch; I counted a million…

It was very enjoyable, and I want to do it again
For some reason my friends did nothing but complain
I do not understand why they all wanted to go home
They must be suffering from a negative syndrome.

poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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Carcinogenic Potato Chips...by talile ali

me and my dad
we use to walk
about the town when he
should be at work
and me in school
eating potato chips
and drinking soda pops
talking and walking
and walking and talking
i always wondered why
my dad never took me back to the
school house where i ran away
so that i could be with my daddy
now i hear that chips are filled
with alcolids
500 times more carcinogenic than
cigarettes
now i have prostate cancer
and i may pass away
my love is scared to death
it has to be that way
could i blame society
for allowing this to be
carcinogenic potato chips
could be the death of me
how good things are so often
turned into bits of insanity
and all of this and heaven
so to reign on me

poem by Talile Ali
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Lunch

America’s corporate souls
have just finished eating
at the buffet trough, ingested
noon day blues. In their bellies
burgers and fries acidify
into atomic shit particles
to be gassed out into commodes
into bayous and oceans
to feed fish which get ground up
to feed other fish and then cows
hormonized to make more burgers and fries.

Yesterday a postal clerk said to me
as she reloaded and unloaded her glock,
“I’ve given these SOB’s my ovaries
but they will not have my soul,
not my soul. I am a woman
not some damn fish.”

poem by Charles Harvey
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The month of June

In the month of June
I composed a melodic tune
Ahead of time before the clocks struck noon
Later at night I waited to sing it out in full moon

June is the smell of sweet fresh roses
A beautiful rosy sixth month it exposes
And with the sweetness of each day
The sky clouds smile brightful and gay

Good Afternoon, My little summer butterflies
In June we can play where yellow meadows lie
We can observe little rivers flow into lagoons
And the mellifluent wildlife retreat into cocoons

And if love where to blossom it will do so quite soon
Because there is something about the month of June
As the longest daylight hours a year balloon
All marriage hopes are not left marooned

June is a beautiful month to sing
And listen to loud wedding bells ring
In this long awaited summer month
The mood of happiness is all June fronts

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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My Favorite Girl

My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl, dont you know,
My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl.
You walked into my life, your love was so new,
And nothing will ever change my feelings for you,
Well, you were so far away, now I am close to you, girl,
So let us run away, our heart thats waiting will stay.
My favorite...
Theres so much I like in you I cant go on,
I wanted a girl like you Ive looked so long,
Girl, nothing will make us wrong, I know our love is too strong,
Lets leave the rest behind, our dreams ask what we will find.
My favorite...
My favorite...
(rap:) shes my favorite girl, the one Im always thinking of, that one.
(rap:) my favorite girl, the one I love.
My favorite... (repeat & fade ad lib)

song performed by by New Kids On The Block
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Word Salad

Like veggie salad tossed here and there
Random words mix up good meaning
Spiced up musings everywhere
The taste of which is quite confusing.

So I looked and read classic poetry
Perchance there find some gourmet score
Hoping my diligence gets the recipe
For the word salad I am looking for.

Salads taste nice with a little dressing
And thrown about words may hit some cue
I guess I could never do salad writing
So I stick to rhyme in the poems I do.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Idle in June

She dares not let the world hear her speak,
She's getting thin and looking meek,
A grey hair is splitting in her widows peak
She lays idle in the month of June.

Her hands are cracked and stained from mud,
although she bathes in lathered suds
There's a little of me inside her blood
She lays idle in the month of June

She carries child at her old age,
She's stuck inside her fleshy cage,
Her father birthed her insidious rage
She lays idle in the month of June.

They locked her in a cell up high,
The crime of seeking suicide
Some women they are born only to die,
She lays idle in the month of June.

One day, I know, I'll see her soon,
How I loathe the month of June,
We'll met again come the next new moon,
I won't forget her, idle in the month of June.

poem by H.J. Shreeve
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If Not For June

If not for June,
My memories of Winter in December...
With a wish to witness,
The freshness of Spring March would bring...
Would not still remain so vivid.
As if only yesterday visited.
If not for June.

If not for June,
My eyesight would not be teased...
By the freedom felt in Summer,
With hopes that linger of those things I could do,
Under clear skies showing bright Sun.
And seeing the fun shared by nearly everyone,
If not for June.

And if not for June I would not be able to reminisce,
From so many experiences I could pick.
June seems to be the month I can do this.
With a thankfulness I am still in the midst,
Of a year that appears to have just begun.
With so much left to offer before it is done.
And for me this happens only when June comes.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eloise & I

Eloise and I were dancing
In the middle of the month of may
And the flowers & the trees were happy
cause everything could be this way
The following of love enchanted
Took a whisper at the winter moon
So eloise & I kept dancing
till the middle of the month of june
Eloise and I were dancing
In the middle of the falling rain
And the flowers & the trees were laughing
cause eloise was here again
The following of love enchanted
Took a whisper at the winter moon
So eloise & I kept dancing
till the middle of the month of june
Call me far behind but the wind was in my way
Eloise & I were dancing
In the middle of the month of may
Eloise & I talk bout the summer thing
Eloise & I wonder bout the other thing
Eloise & i
Good bye eloise
Eloise and I were dancing
In the middle of a falling down
With the mystery of life enhancing every little single sound
And then the following of love enchanted
Took a whisper at the winter moon
Eloise & I kept dancing
till the middle of...
The middle of the month of ...
Eloise & I wonder bout the summer thing
Eloise & I talk bout the other thing
Eloise & i
Good bye eloise
Goodbye

song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When New Year Comes

When New Year Comes
Everybody Shivers
In the month of January
Which is cold and Airy
In February winter get’s Weary
Prepares for Leaving
Paving way for spring to come
In the month of March
Flowers loom Large
April comes
Summer knocks on the Door
When May comes,
Sun Brightens
Mangoes ripe and Juicy
Long hot days
Make June very tiring
Holidays for Children
All wait for Rain
Monsoon at its Peak
When July arrives
Rain brings Smile
August is the month of Freedom
Sometimes sticky sometimes Hot
In September one feels
Better then August
We call it Autumn
One see’s Flowers
Which are colourful and Rosy
October is the festival Month
Weather is good
Winter getting Ready
November makes everybody Happy
Everybody enjoys
Lights of Deepawali(Festival of Light)
In the Cold month of December
Christmas celebrated
Throughout the the World
Everybody says goodbye to the year
Welcomes New Year
On the night of 31’st December

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phileas the Frog

Phileas the frog was awfully large -
To see the muscle in his thighs -
A sight bedazzling to your eyes!
With plenty there to feed a town -
If you would dare to take him down!

Phileas the frog could tow a barge.
One hefty bound could clear a tree -
A scary sight I'll guarantee!
And something else to make me dread:
Were he to land upon my head!

Phileas the frog was known as 'Sarge -'
Accounted by that massive chest.
No other frog would care to jest
That tidy Phileas!

So if you've sense and know your place -
And hold some value to your face,
Then don't get supercilious
With Phileas!

Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Frog

France and China feed from your demise,
Restaurateurs are not exactly chums,
Oh how they rave about your tender thighs!
Gourmand orders - another frog succumbs…

frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
Frog frog

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Favorite Girl

Funny how things don’t seem to ever change
Now that I see you I’m transformed I am not the same
I know all the parts of you cause you’re my favorite girl
Because of everything you do you’re my favorite girl

Good things come and good things go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

I've tried so hard to move forward
But I keep on moving back
I’m stuck in some odd time warp
On an elusive track

Your a sacred pearl cause your my favorite girl
There’ no sanctuary in this world but your my favorite girl

People come and people go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

Its the same old story But damn if it don’t make you cry
Boy meets girl than loses her for no reason why
In my heart, nothing should matter except you’re my favorite girl
The whole universe could shatter you’d still be my favorite girl

People come and people go
We only have to day
Baby baby you stole the show
Baby baby you stole the show
Tomorrow who knows

You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

poem by Harlan Lovestone
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Walking The Frog

I have a pet frog
We go frog walking every day at 6pm
He is fine until he sees another frog
He sniffs & then tries to jump
I pull him away

Last week we had a problem
My frog stopped to do his business
A passer bye said stop your frog fouling
I cleared up after him but it left a slimy mark
The other man slipped on it

My frog likes water
Especially ponds
He likes jumping on lilies
The local gardener is mad
Control your frog he shouts

Well now Im in trouble
Despite the sign
Beware of the FROG
He bit a policeman
A fine guard frog

My frog is now banned
From walks anywhere
Poor froggy is in a cell
Eating flies & drinking water
Its a frogs life

poem by Alan Draper
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Old for New

It’s not every day a spud jumps out
and asks you to take it home for tea,
but this old King Edward potato did
and it wanted to be chips for me.

He said that he had been discarded
because of his sell by date.
I told him that this was no reason
to become chips upon a plate.

I asked him if he’d considered genetics,
and he said that it was too late.
His extended shelf life was now over
and he’d go out in style with a steak.

“With tubers sticking out your head, ” I said,
“you could produce potatoes by the score.
All it takes is a few months in the soil
and nature will do the rest for sure.”

“Are you saying that I will live again? ”
“Yes, but not exactly as you are,
you will first become a fresh green shoot
and then a lovely white flower.

You will then attract the butterflies and bees
who will kiss new life into you,
and when your flowers pass on your genetic code,
you’ll grow into potatoes new.

If one of your descendents did this every year
instead of being a plate of chips.
Your genealogical line could live on forever
because you chose genetics.”

“Do you know I really like the sound of this,
you’ve filled me full of good cheer,
so if I could trouble you to put me in the ground,
my descendents will see you next year.”

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We’ll go to the mountain, you and I

We’ll go to the mountain
that overlooks the sea
climb up one of its peaks
and from high
where it almost
touches the clouds
on Helderberg Mountain view
the dark blue sea,
see trees lined in rows.

I’ll spread a blanket
from where you’ll face
into the breeze
which will play
with your auburn hair
and maybe we’ll catch
some wild doves in the trees
up there
and see them frolic and
count the houses
along the golden shore
and wait for some time
and then some more.

We’ll have a picnic
and eat some roasted chicken
and potato salad
if you want,
and drink some fresh water
from a mountain spring
and have some apple pie
if we brought some along
and later have some champagne
and you’ll be mine
and I will be yours
and when we are done
we will go home again
while we watch the beach,
the ocean and the sky
and down we’ll walk
just you and I.

poem by Gert Strydom
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An Other Day

It is an other day with out you
and the month of june is askin me
It is an other night
it is an other night I am waitin you
and the time is plodding me
when dreamin is backing me
when the passing time is a careles freind;
who is taking u
from my dream
but other day;
will bring us to gain
and dear will bring u back to me
will bring u back to my heart
but it is an other day; and
u are far from my sight
an other day at either end
we are alone at either end
and the month of june is askin me
in an other night just iam gazing
at moon
'cause i glanced your smile
once
out there
at the moon's face
an other day
will soothe the fondness
and the sun of our love will rise
when the rain will wash the pain
just in an other day of june.

poem by Sallam Yassin
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One Potato

One potato, two potato
three potato four.
We need some potatoes
to help feed the poor.
Too many hungry babes
are being born today.
When their mother's milk runs dry
they'll have to find a way
to keep their bellies full.
No time for play.

One potato, two potato,
three potato, four.
You say into each life
a little rain must pour?
I say the rain's that's falling
are tears from the eyes
that run down children's faces
from hunger pains and cries
that elude the ears of rich ones
that never ever buys
potatoes for them all.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Finn's Favorite Fish (Long Tongue Twister)

Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fell flat.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for fluid.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fed Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish falls for Finn's favorite fish's favorite food.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fills Finn's favorite fish.
Finn fishes for Finn's favorite fish's favorite fish food for Finn's favorite fish!

poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Early Works - Once A Month

Once a month we meet
in each other’s homes
to discuss our work
play, book, stories and poems.
We read aloud our every word
good, bad, indifferent heard.
Help is offered to
for those in need, maybe me, maybe you.

Subjects are abound to us
for our every need;
titles also interest us
and their lore to lead.
Oh our meeting mean much more
than just a talk of words
for somewhere deep within them
a cry of friendship is heard.

From different paths, we lead all day
we gather here tonight
to listen to each other’s words
and our writing light.
We gather here tonight
letting the worlds discord pass us by
friends of words, friends of friends.
As time passes oh, too quickly we sigh
then say goodnight but not goodbye.

29 June 1978

poem by David Harris
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