August is the dying month
August is the dying month
When hot July struggles to keep her hold
Moving toward a hopeless chilled September
Pretending to be summer
As if children heading back to school stir the cold from the sky
It is a refined deceiver
August is a butterfly crushed on a roadway
One side dead to the pavement
The other is still vibrantly flutteringly alive
Fighting to fly away but it’s fate is already sealed
It is a delicate executioner
August is the month colors trickle from trees
A first leaf unnoticed tumbles
Sheepishly the others will shortly follow
Shamefully they will drift to the ground
It is a subtle destroyer
August is 6 PM
The disillusion of a day realized
Dinners to be eaten alone
Murky dark mixes with the daylight
Spitting out gloomy gray
It is a sophisticated betrayer
August is the death rattle
Demise by means of a Fall
Stealing gaped mouth last breaths
Swallowing everything into its earth
Coughing back a cold winter in return.
poem by Wanda Swim Strunk
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Related quotes
August....
August is the month for kids it’s the last few weeks of freedom before a new school year begins.
August is the month where many parents are excited that its here cause they don’t want their kids home alone.
August is the last month before fall begins.
August is the only month that has fewer holidays than most months.
August is the month where most teens are happy because it means that it’s the last school year for most.
August is the month that I really don’t care for but I also like as well.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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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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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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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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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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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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[ 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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The Holocaust Song (August 6th, '45.)
8-15 Tuesday morning
a burning flash dissolved the skies,
death reigned without warning...
August 6th, '45.
In a lightning crash of frozen moment,
thousands were incinerated and scourged alive;
firewinds flayed through paper houses...
August 6th, '45.
People cauterized to the melting earth,
their scalding blood, their flesh that fried:
they were the lucky ones...
August 6th, '45.
Who put the horror in Hiroshima?
Who wrote shock on the human eye?
Who etched terror onto mankind's future
that August 6th, '45?
Across the warscape of that flattened city
women stumbled too numb to cry,
their skin pulped with boiling blisters...
August 6th, '45.
Lines of shuffling, staring figures
too stunned and sick to wonder why,
their faces shocked but past all panic...
August 6th, '45.
People peeled like red bananas,
those people lived but quickly died;
skin that hung like paper streamers...
August 6th, '45.
Who put the horror in Hiroshima?
Who permitted genocide?
Who sanctioned that mad disaster
on August 6th, '45.
Lurching beings like lifeless corpses
silhouette an ashen sky;
they wandered, abject, without purpose...
August 6th, '45.
Whose pride murdered Nagasaki?
Whose decision prepared the lies?
Were they doomed or just unlucky
that August day, '45?
Escape's denied to all survivors,
cancers haunt them till the day they die.
And their heirs will curse the craven authors
of August 6th, '45.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Carnival Of Victory
The month of August, carnival for all the year,
When Anna forces the wild democracy move his way,
And showed the nation his power on a single day.
Krishna on Janamashtimi blessed his old son dear;
August 27,2011, lavish, mesmerizes far and near.
The thirteen day fast made all tyrants lay,
Like rotten meat in a garbage tray.
August, revolution, burnt all the liars.
The night guards its dear masses in fine,
Of kingdom’s: honest pearls rebuking rogues few,
Our white empress fled, in western towers safe line,
Back home, August, feasting and dancing on happy dew,
Ready to gulp the corrupts in a single drought,
Sunshine and clean air, delivered by Anna fine!
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Summer Is
Summer is the breeze blowing through the grass in June
It is running carelessly through the meadows
It is taking off your shoes and feeling the grass tickle your toes
It is sitting on the porch at night sipping lemonade
Summer is the fireworks in July
It is going swimming at the pool with your closest friends
It is feeling nothing but happiness
It is the times you don’t want to forget
Summer is walking through the sand in August
It is the memories you have forever
It is what you never want to end
It is always what you look forward to in the winter
Summer ends September begins
Back to school
Back to cold weather
Back to wishing it were summer
poem by ChaCha Poet
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Cold Wind In August
I waited for you
You waited for me
That it seemed like, seemed like a mighty long time
Baby I had to have you
Oh, I had to have you
Come rain, rain or shine
It was a cold wind in august
Shivers up and down my spine
I was standin in your garden
In the california pine
I was standing shivering
Ive got the fever in the rain
But I cant come on back to see you
Again and again and again
I said i, I had to have you
Baby I had to have you
Come rain, come rain or shine
It was a cold wind in august
Shivers up and down my spine
And I was standing in your garden
In the california pine
California pine
(instrumental)
It was a cold wind in august
Shivers up and down my spine
I was standin in your garden
In the california pine
In the california pine it was a cold wind in august
I was pushed on through september
Oh pushin through september
In the rain
Pushin through, pushin through september
In the rain
Ooh
It was a cold wind in august
Shivers up and down my spine
I was standin standin in your garden
In the california pine
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Remember August
I remember August:
that breathy space before fall;
the long slow arc of the sun
touching the northern horizon.
I remember August:
its dampness confined to fog
pulled along the seashore's edge
and into the bays and rivers.
I remember
silent waves rocking small stones:
shifting, slipping, and sliding
sibilant sighs and whisperings.
I remember
the hay lying cut and straight,
drying in the summer sun
waiting for the baler to come.
I remember August:
with the soft shade and shadows,
and the long hours of twilight
creeping slowly toward the night.
On this October rain day
I remember August.
My little august bloom
My little august bloom
I will always love you
Even when I am feeling blue
Where ever you may be
I will be there next to you
I will always love you
My little august bloom
If you ever cry
I can see it in the sky
I will light a candle for you
My little august bloom
Every breath that I take
I take it just for you
I wish that I was there with you
My little august bloom
You will always be the light
That warms my coldest nights
You shine bright within my eyes
The only reason for my life
My little august bloom
I am so in love with you
Nick Kler
Song Of August!
August tunes and replays
a tearful song from the heart
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
and monsoon droplets
resonate that heartfelt song
on the strings of August.......
August 2,2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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A Will to Unit Venus and Mars
I have decided to make my will and leave everything that I have to myself.
Mars is scheduled to come on August 27, to stay within 34.65 miles of earth,
Then he shall only return in 2287, by then I might be ready to rebirth,
As for 280 years shall be well enough for two lives thenceforth,
For which I shall save all that I have, as they say I am from Venus,
After all that travelling I shall be back around Earth for Mars to nest our hearth.
I will leave all my poems, love letters and everything else,
All the feelings I have, and all the secrets I have shared,
Please save them to yourself, as for I shall come back to collect.
Don’t waste any time crying as I know time is rare nowadays,
Just go rush and be aware that I won’t have a penny to spare,
I shall save everything for myself because I won’t waste a day,
On August 27 I shall be here ready for Mars,
and on 2,287, back again for we shall have our MAR GRASS.
(August 19,2007)
poem by Florida Angel
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August Cold
Oddly this August is unusually cool
Soon the kids will head back to school
Summer has mysteriously slipped on by
Leaving us empty and asking why
Soon autumn will fall across the land
Will it be mild or make a stand?
Or will it fade into winter, and leave us cold
Will its colors be drab, or brilliant and bold?
Oh, what a strange year you have been
When will things be right again?
poem by Rhonda Baker
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Turning on the Heat
It seems kind of odd to me
When you have to start
Turning on the heat in August
In the middle of the summer
Is it just a cold snap
Or a precurser of things to come
It just seems so odd to me
Turning on the heat in August
poem by Jerry Abrahamson
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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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August Sunrise
The sequence of months
reoccur without exception
Never failing to reiterate...
Recreating life's dimensions
The phases of the moon
punctuate each day and week
as eventful chapters fade away...
August is here as I speak
The eighth month of the year
is especially significant to me
It is the month that loved ones
departed… leaving only a memory
Grandmother, mom, and spouse...
all relinquished all earthly ties
during this month of bountiful giving
Reminding me of their goodbyes
Their caring love is felt with the
greatest intensity at this moment...
when an August sunrise wakens
my heart… their spirits are present
8/10/2010
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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Into The Last Month Of Winter
Into the last month of Winter and the wattles cloaked in yellow flowers in bloom
And pink flowers on the camellias and yellow flowers on the broom
And all through the night the white backed magpies sing
On the third week of August coming up to the Spring
On the third week of August in the Southern Hemisphere
One does have a sense that Spring is quite near
The paddocks and parklands are looking quite green
And fragile pink flowers on the fruit trees are seen
Into the third week of August and birds sing in the rain
And all through the night frogs sing in pond and drain
And in the calm of the night in the parkland nearby
The breeding spur wing plovers in their territory cry
And all through the night on the moonlit gum trees
The songs of the magpies carry in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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