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
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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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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Juno Gave the Summer
A sun for hearts – tempered rhythm in her flares;
The naked tan – bikini line a cry for stares;
Gregarious green, beguiled by colours en rapport –
The park’s alive! So what’s to hanker after more?
Children scream while parents dream their fantasies,
Igniting under brilliance –
They think they share resilience to the
Ultraviolet hues;
To lie displayed au naturel
Is what they’d rather choose!
And Helios peers at lovers in their
Heady worlds: vibrant leas to
Roam in hand; calming seas –
Satin sand insensible as
Water runs her ripples cross the
Shore – so like the park, it really
Cries for very little more!
In the garden, roses clamber for attention –
Pouting blooms, wafting scent –
Our floral monarch June’s event!
And fingers green receive the praise
From toiling hard for coloured blaze.
Compelled, I walk the countenance of sunny June
As Mother Nature danced amok in her saloon
Of roaring life, that came of youth in early spring
And nurtured in maternal warmth beneath her wing.
Eyes bedewed, I mellow in a reverie
– Hope renewed –
As Juno saw to suckle me with
Quintessential summer.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
All rights reserved
See the link below for notes on this poem:
http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
June June June June June June June in summer
Summer for June summer for June summer for June in summer
Summer summer June summer June in summer summer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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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26 of June
26 of June came again
The old month of June
Old but always young
In the calendar of glory
The gala caliber
counted high
'cause the freedom course
call, culminate
and came to the final call
cheerful calls
calls of the courage men
who retained hopes calls
to, heart
and healing the wounds
of the soul
26 of june came again
the old month of june
old but always charm
when we differentaite
the light
the light of the freedom
the lost and cost althou
it; very high
the dignity through the lost
we, reign
as a nation
we, regain
to the heart again
26 of june came again
poem by Sallam Yassin
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But One
The year has but one June, dear friend;
The year has but one June;
And when that perfect month doth end,
The robin's song, though loud, though long,
Seems never quite in tune.
The rose, though still its blushing face
By bee and bird is seen,
May yet have lost that subtle grace—
That nameless spell the winds know
Which makes it garden's queen.
Life's perfect June, love's red, red rose,
Have burned and bloomed for me.
Though still youth's summer sunlight glows;
Though thou art kind, dear friend, I find
I have no heart for thee.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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June In January
When in January it’s June,
in March it will be August, hot
and clammy while I swoon
within your arms, if I am not
mistaken about climate change
that is inevitable when
the summer months within my range
make me perspire once again,
and long for January that’s cold,
when I feel comfortable within
your arms, not feeble, frazzled, old,
and ready to embark on sin,
without the need for air condit-
ioning that I associate with June.
That’s why in wintertime I wish
that January will not leave soon,
but when it does it should be May,
my favorite month when birds do sing,
accompanying my love each day
with joy while you make my heart spring.
Inspired by “It’s June in January, ” a song associated with Bing Crosby, written by Ralph Rainger and Leon Robin:
A clouded moon creeps across the clouded sky
Winds of January sigh and moan
And yet it's June.
I can see a sky of blue
Dear the miracle is due to you.
Just you.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
It always is spring in my heart
with you in my arms.
The snow is just white blossoms
that fall from above.
And here is the reason, my dear,
Your magical charms.
The night is cold
The trees are bare
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love.
But only because I'm in love with you.
Oh the night is cold!
Won't it be to bear?
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
`1/23/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Another Way of Love
I
June was not over
Though past the full,
And the best of her roses
Had yet to blow,
When a man I know
(But shall not discover,
Since ears are dull,
And time discloses)
Turned him and said with a man's true air,
Half sighing a smile in a yawn, as 'twere,—
"If I tire of your June, will she greatly care?"
II
Well, dear, in-doors with you!
True! serene deadness
Tries a man's temper.
What's in the blossom
June wears on her bosom?
Can it clear scores with you?
Sweetness and redness.
Eadem semper!
Go, let me care for it greatly or slightly!
If June mend her bower now, your hand left unsightly
By plucking the roses,—my June will do rightly.
III
And after, for pastime,
If June be refulgent
With flowers in completeness,
All petals, no prickles,
Delicious as trickles
Of wine poured at mass-time,—
And choose One indulgent
To redness and sweetness:
Or if, with experience of man and of spider,
June use my June-lightning, the strong insect-ridder,
And stop the fresh film-work,—why, June will consider.
poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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June Bug
They call me a June Bug, But I don't come in June
They really should call me a May Bug
I fly all night looking for a light
A little romance and then love
I'm the June Bug of another's dream
Yeah, I'm the one that's on your screen
I'm the one that comes in the hundreds
The one you step over with your feet
I'm a June Bug, A June Bug
I'm roly poly round
Looking for love, Yeah, looking for love
And I know it's flying around
I spend seven years in that ground
And all I ever am is a Grub
Of course when I climb out of that hole
I wanna find me a little bug love
You want to see my buddies?
Well, just keep that light burning bright
We will come in the thousands
And visit you all night
We come up from the ground
At night we can be found
We visit you in the month of May
And all night we hang around
You want to know just why
We don't move when you come outside?
Well, that's because a Bug named Fred
Told us all to pretend we died
We come up from the ground
All we want is a little Bug love
But I tell you that ain't easy
Sometimes it's just real tough
I saw Sam the Bug the other day
Flying straight for a big head light
I guess he liked it quite a lot
Because he is still there and bright
Poor Arnold the Bug, Well, I don't know
He is stuck on someone's shoe
We tried to tell him but he had listened to Fred
That Bug just wouldn't move
You think you've got troubles
Well, let me just tell you
You don't know the half of it
Til a shoe comes down on you
All we want is a little love
A little bit of that Bug love stuff
Although we come in the month of May
They call me a June Bug
A June Bug, A June Bug
I'm roly poly round
Looking for love, Yeah, looking for love
And I know it's flying around!
copyright 2005 Bill Simmons
aka [email protected]
poem by Bill Simmons
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The Sweet Month Of June Is Now Gone
The sweet month of June is now gone
Can you believe me?
In June
We sat almost everyday
During the day
In our patios
And
The bumble bees
We heard going by
And at the same time they
Had collected the nectar from the flowers
Of our gardens
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Too Soon (Dedicated To Mrs Tham My El Lit Teacher, hi PUALINA
The bluebells of June have finally been lost,
back to the earth that bore them,
throughout my life I will dread their flowering
for they scar a time of yearning.
Their coming fills me with the happiness
of memories of you, but they still gave me suffering
with the time of mourning for you
But yet these could still
Reveal the secret garden of my heart.
The forest floor, full of purple glory
scented gently of you,
one March we strolled its peaceful path
a meadow beneath our feet.
A year passed in a blink of an eye,
And then you were gone
Later in the month of June,
came the anguish of my soul -
you left me far too soon,
Like the bluebells of June
If only I could hear your voice,
the calming things you would say,
the earth itself would bow to my grief.
Like the bluebells every June,
You came and-
Gone too soon.
12/07/12
poem by Skylar Stamon Silver Salvatore
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The day in june
It was one day in June
I was surfing the Internet
I was hopeless confused
when a picture hit me like a jet
The view the hit me from the picture
This blond smile with the curly hair
The heat in my body was heating on
My eyes open up wide, it was not fair
Since the day in June
My live change for ever
Her eyes her look are always there
would I walk out on her, never
The picture stills hit me like lightning
I know I must visit her soon
Take her down to the lake
and make love to her under the moon
It is not more the day in june
My heart is locked by her thrust
July is gone by in the heat
Still my body is full of lust
Now we are in the month of august
She will ask why are you still away
My heart beat as the day in june
I will come to you - and i will stay
Time is flying by the souls
Still she is so kind
I will be with you forever
you are always on my mind
poem by Tekkoo Heinrich
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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
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In Fountain Court
The fountain murmuring of sleep,
A drowsy tune;
The flickering green of leaves that keep
The light of June;
Peace, through a slumbering afternoon,
The peace of June.
A waiting ghost, in the blue sky,
The white curved moon;
June, hushed and breathless, waits, and I
Wait too, with June;
Come, through the lingering afternoon,
Soon, love, come soon.
poem by Arthur Symons
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June
Last June I saw your face three times;
Three times I touched your hand;
Now, as before, May month is o'er,
And June is in the land.
O many Junes shall come and go,
Flow'r-footed o'er the mead;
O many Junes for me, to whom
Is length of days decreed.
There shall be sunlight, scent of rose;
Warm mist of summer rain;
Only this change--I shall not look
Upon your face again.
One Day In June
One day in June
I slipped away
Caught by desire
Drawn to the flame
My virtues disappeared
Light on my feet
Whispers as sweet as honey
Callin' to me
One day in June
One day in June
I felt the hunger
I ate the fruit
One day in June
So don't cry for me
I had my chance
I took a risk
I asked the wind to dance
Don't try to save me
I'm already gone
Everything's over
But I'm burning on
One day in June
One day in June
I felt the hunger
I ate the fruit
One day in June
And I don't like how it feels
To tell all these little lies
Tryin' to be the one you can count on
But all it's a thin disguise
I kissed it all goodbye
One day in June
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The June I Know
The june i know comes in the middle of the year,
when there is no worries and fear.
Full of so many exicitment and fun,
even when there is no bright light from the sun.
A month full of expectation,
and natured by determination.
Driven and directed by one's outstanding visions,
even in the presence of so many conspirations.
I know one's dreams are so indispensible,
because these june ambitions are unquestionable.
Even if there is still some doubtable swoon,
i know we will make it to the top soon.
poem by Stanley Oguh
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Bunbury Afternoon
England in the summer is a pretty sight
Flowers in the meadow in the morning light
You know , satisfy the song inside
And the dream is making you care , evrybody smiles
And the dream is taking you there
Theres a little bit of heaven on the village green
And the bunbury eleven that you never see
And they take all comers in the month of june
On a friday , saturday , sunbury afternoon
On a friday , saturday , bunbury afternoon
On a friday , saturday , bunbury afternoon
They all say it couldnt be real
Shakin their head in wonder
Makin it long drive home
And when the sun and the moment is gone
Breakin that spell were under
We played a part in the heart of a beautiful memory
Theres a baby in a cradle and a wise old man
Young lovers happy to be hand in hand
Evrybody finds their way
They will learn the secret in time
Theres a ring on her finger
And a love that shows
And the bunbury eleven say the rumor goes
They re married in the church in the month of june
On a friday , saturday , sunbury afternoon
On a friday , saturday , bunbury afternoon
On a friday , saturday , bunbury afternoon
Theres a wind in the willows
When the day is done
People disappearing in the golden sun
You know , evrybody smiles
Theres a little bit of heaven on ....
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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June Become December
And so May turned into June
One page falling gently
Against the other.
I’d seen her last in April
The legendary showers
Masking the tears.
We had parted as friends
I’d have rather been lovers
Until the end.
This new month, new sun
Held promise of her return
In summer, she said.
When things heat up
When passion’s high
I will be back.
The train’s come and gone.
My passion quelled
June, become December.
poem by Gerry Leopard
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