August Breezes
Golden prairie fields
caressed by August breezes
softly call your name.
July, 2010
poem by Robert Charles Howard
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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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Tread Softly Soldier Boy
The chapel bells ring solemnly
for the young man in uniform
who has to fight on foreign soil.
His love on her knees prays
that he will return
to her arms safely one day.
No war is ever kind,
a senseless business some say
for the lives that are robbed
from loved ones each day.
Tread softly young men in uniform
in case on battlefields you fall.
Tread softly soldier boy
the enemy waits to hear
your footsteps fall.
Tread softly soldier boy
or in the morning,
you will miss the bugle call.
7 August 2010
poem by David Harris
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When Will Walk Away
from a silence of thrushes
saddened July
give golden fields
and turn pink roses
with thick honey is offering
wants to refresh longing
what unexpectedly
is tasting with bitterness
as the sensitivity betrayed
of wind breezes
somewhere the sky
is clouding over,
in order to rain
to let in only
let them cry over the loss
of the bereavement,
when will walk away for
a long time...
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Dappled Sunlight
The lion stared with gemstone eyes
And heard with ears erect,
Alert and focussed, sternly wise
At all he could inspect.
No more the cub content to play
Or waste his precious time,
For suddenly there came the day,
They saw him in his prime...
The world had changed, new thoughts were born,
He hunted with the rest,
He stood as high as golden corn,
Content he'd passed each test...
The future grants a destiny
Each lion must embrace,
With royalty and majesty
Throughout his adult days...
Dappled sunlight caressed his brow,
Did more than keep him warm,
It showed us all how he looked now,
In stature and in form.
Dappled sunlight caressed his coat,
To show each forehead frown,
As if to show each line God wrote
Upon his noble crown.
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Dappled Sunlight'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Delay
now, we have the September.
is clear and solar
but he likes the July,
not to say the August.
then everything is so kind,
all warm and cosy.
oh well, a September
it is a September.
doesn't worry about it
isn't taking over.
is taking the other
wall diary out
of the drawer is.
he is hanging up
and he is placing
the appropriate date still
and is raising
oneself spirit.
everyone are in September
and he still in August,
not to say in July
so he is able to be delayed
until pleasantly
it is getting at very thought
I... mainly,
I am entire year... in May.
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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The Sunny Months
Poets write of May and June,
But seldom mention warm July,
And August is neglected too
Is this because few words will rhyme?
July and August spell out summer
When children play upon the sand,
Away from lessons ~ life is joyful,
Free from teacher's binding hand.
September is a lovely month
Leaves take flight along the lane.
Summer's over, back to lessons
School friends smiling once again.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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A Cradle Song
O men from the fields,
Come gently within.
Tread softly, softly
O men coming in!
Mavourneen is going
From me and from you,
Where Mary will fold him
With mantle of blue!
From reek of the smoke
And cold of the floor
And the peering of things
Across the half-door.
O men of the fields,
Soft, softly come thro'
Mary puts round him
Her mantle of blue.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Those Who Watch Over Us
Everyone has someone who watches over them.
Some call it their guardian angel
while others call it their friend.
Whomever they are they are there
when I our lives need them the most.
They guide others to help us make our choice.
Sometimes we say we don’t care when we really do.
This when those who watch over us show us what to do.
Everything happens for a reason.
That is why we are what we are.
However, do not look for an answer
because you will never find it.
Only those who watch over us know
and the secret is theirs to keep.
20 July 2010
poem by David Harris
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Warm, Balmy And Gentle Breezes
Warm breezes glide across an open space,
with such invisible grace,
as if they were off on a chase,
wafting softly against my face,
with urgency to win an endless race.
Balmy breezes flow between large dense trees,
with such a veritable ease,
and one can tell, they do as they please,
tickling the feet, the legs and knees,
with urgency there’s a longing to tease.
Gentle breezes pass smoothly on their way,
with such a persistence, they play,
for to them it’s just another day,
they cannot stop and cannot stay,
with urgency they ruffle the rosebay.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Pleasure In Our Bounty
Bountiful harvests compliment you-beloved;
So rich with the gathering bounty...
Your wheat and corn fields are most plentiful... indeed--
Garning the corn 'tis nigh;
We two are within these fields--
Aglow with love...
Our hearts never more sure;
Explicit in our very dreams---
We dance to the rhythm of our hearts...
And welcome the twiglight with open arms...
Soon-yes- very soon--
A waltz under the Harvest Moon---
You 'twil surely catch me should i swoon...
For in your arms...beloved...'tis where i belong;
Ah... but for the gathering...
The season for sowing 'tis done--
And together a prolific abundance we have reaped--
Could our love ever be more grand or fulfilling--
As it 'tis right now...this very moment?
Here 'neath the moon-in the breeze of our Eternal Youth?
Embraced by the harvests and its 'Golden Hue'...
Alive in the Summer of renew...
Most blessed are we two...
Dancing as one when day 'tis done--
With open arms we acknowledge...
A new season for us has begun;
The Essence
August 1,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Do Not Ask
Don’t remind the August sky
how you used to love July,
and even if you should remember
August skies when it’s September,
don’t brood on them, for they have gone,
and you should only dwell upon
the skies that you see now above.
It’s just the same, of course, with love;
what love you may have lost is not
what you should think of, hot to trot
with someone new who takes your fancy.
It’s not a sign of sycophancy
to tell her that you’ve never seen
a girl more beautiful, or been
more happy than you are with her.
Forget the past which, de rigueur,
is just the past, and don’t see shrouds
in skies where there are sometimes clouds.
What's past you must forget and bury;
look up, ahead and now be merry!
Inspired by the lyrics of “Many a New Day, ” quoted in John Steele Gordon’s review of “The Complete Lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II, ” edited by Amy Asch (“Getting to Know You, Mr. Hammerstein, ” NYT, December 25,2008) :
Many a light lad may kiss and fly,
A kiss gone by is bygone.
Never’ve I asked an August sky, 'Where has last July gone? '
Never’ve I wandered through the rye, wondering where has some
guy gone;
Many a new day will dawn before I do!
12/25/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Corn
first the seed
...in March the muffle cover of snow disappears
and good Illinois soil emits
from moment to moment
all the aromas of the history of the earth
then the shoot
...in April with each rain grows stronger
in May as thick as a doe's leg
in June stronger still and green
then the ear
...as June is July as tall as the boy
who rides in the tractor
in August all children work at de-tassling
'til the end of long days now golden and rose
then the kerrnel
...August bakes away
and September on the coolness of evening
is harvest
the monstrous combine gleans
all the cobs
and screens
fodder for forage forever
poem by Jimi Doyle
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Denver Flash
penny on a rail
smiling an August shine
quiet goes the prairie note
until the Denver flashes through
again
poem by Ted Hamilton
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Far North In The Green Fields
Far north in the green fields of old Lisnaboy
Just learning of Nature I used to enjoy
The warm winds of Summer from the south did blow
And young birds chirped on bushes and trees and hedgerow
And the meadows scented sweet of the newly mown hay
In July in Duhallow in a place far away
From this Southern Land that I live in today
Where the father of time has left me looking gray
Fond memories of a happy boyhood I retain
And in fancy I visit the old fields again
But the mentors of my young years with the dead do now lay
And all of those I grew up with walking slower today
But in memory the swallows above the fields fly
And the cuckoo he sings in the warmth of July.
poem by Francis Duggan
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July
In July I caught a butterfly,
it's peacock markings
and its gentle wings
fluttered in my hand
to tickle and delight.
In July we saw the flowers bloom,
raising heads to the sun,
opening their petals
in the strong summer heat,
a maze of colours.
In July I watched you mellow,
red hot flames flickered and died
as did your ardor
against a backdropp of milky clouds
that hid a golden sky.
poem by Ruth Walters
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A Wet August Day In Millstreet
From Claramore the rill in flood flow brown
Through Claraghatlea a mile from Millstreet Town
And dark to gray rain clouds across the sky
Tell that more heavy showers of rain are nigh.
You know that bird to whom the voice belong
When you hear the dipper sing his scratchy song
He pipe his loudest when the flood is high
And the wet conditions he seem to enjoy.
The last thing that the farmer needs is rain
A hungry Winter for his stock again
In August only four or five days dry
And half of his hay crop rotted in July.
And yet in all of his years he has not seen
His fields in August quite so lush and green
And he can only hope for a good Fall
And that September will be drier after all.
O'er rushy fields by where the rivers meet
Perhaps a mile from the Town of Millstreet
The little lark of Humankind quite shy
Above the rain clouds carolling as he fly.
The Winter months the Duhallow farmer fear
The very wet Summer has cost him dear
And from Claramore the rill in flood flow brown
Through Claraghatlea a mile from Millstreet Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Love Changes Everything
(Clint IngersollJeremy Spillman)
Before my second year of college, you were barely seventeen.
I was haulin' hay for your Daddy, an' you brought me a glass of tea.
To a farm boy from Oklahoma, you were small town Texas prize,
An' every young man's dream in cut-off jeans, with that Homecoming Queen smile.
You were makin' fun of my farmer's tan an' I was lettin' you.
An' fightin' bull in the July heat, tryin' to keep my cool.
An' the prairie wind sang while the dust devils danced.
It just got hotter as the summer passed.
An' that first kiss stole our breath away.
An' the breeze died down as our hearts surrendered.
The moonlight shattered as it crashed on the river.
We both knew we'd never be the same:
'Cause love changes everything.
I think your Daddy wondered but I know your Momma knew,
'Cause she pulled me aside one Friday night and said take good care of you.
We'd steal away after supper to our favorite place in the sand,
By the red water's edge where we'd hold hands while the sun melted into the land.
We lost more than sleep on one hot August night.
By mornin' we were seein' some things for the very first time.
An' the prairie wind sang while the dust devils danced.
Just got hotter as the summer passed.
An' that first touch stole our breath away.
An' the breeze died down as our hearts surrendered.
The moonlight shattered as it crashed on the river.
We both knew we'd never be the same:
'Cause love changes everything.
I never found my way back to college,
An' we found other loves since then.
But that first one will live forever,
'Cause I'll always remember when:
Those prairie wind
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Season Falls 1902
Another summer evening's golden link:
Neglecting Time's progression, peaceful, man
Offers appreciation. Solstice brink
Towards September readies harvest van.
Harmonious fulfillment interlink.
Expectantly tanned weatherman can plan
Resplendent Indian Summer's warming wink.
SEnsations softly scented Spring began,
AS August ends greet Autumn's sunsets pink
SO storybook in beauty feelings fan
Nature's serendipity. Stars twink.
FALL starts gilding garland trees again
Squirrels nut while rainbow colours reign.
(30 August 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Hot! Like a Heat Hot Drops
Hot!
Like a heat hot.
These past few days,
In the first week of July 2010...
With humidity high.
Sweltering the air and wetting the skin.
Not a part of the body remains dry outside.
And usually it is the month of August,
That simmers in New England...
With an egg on rocks to fry.
Hot!
Like a heat hot drops,
Moisture undenied.
Cooling to dry has to be done inside.
Unless one is among the unfortunate.
With a crying done that goes undetected.
Since tears from the eyes go unrecognized.
Hot!
Like a heat hot,
Drops.
As temperatures soar.
Dripping a salty sweat from every known pore.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prairie Rose
(ferry/manzanera)
Texas thats where i
Belong
It seems to me
Texas lonesome star
Shine on
The big country
Texas with open skies
And you
For company
Texas oh prairie rose
How happy
I should be
Hey hey you can take it from me
Hey hey ill be coming, youll see
Hey hey oh what a state to be in
Hey hey youre tantalising me
Texas I will compose
In fancy rhyme
Or just plain prose
Texas a song of praise
To you
Prairie rose
Texas though im not sure
I can explain
Your strange allure
Texas prairie rose -
A crown of thorns
A scented flower
Hey hey id better leave right away
Hey hey I can hear you calling me
Prairie rose
song performed by by Roxy Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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