Rainy day...
Rainy day
Cool evening
Porch sitting
Unusual for mid August.
Where is the usual summer evening traffic?
My thoughts drift
into my childhood past.
They come up blank
and I simply do not recall
what I did on summer evenings like this.
I just remember –
the smell of freshly cut grass
the catching of lightening bugs
devouring Good Humor ice cream
friends trying to invite themselves
into my backyard pool
playing a game called “Murder In The Dark”
in the backyard of the house across the street
when the sun went down.
I wonder
what summer evening games
the kids in my old neighborhood play now.
I wonder where
the kids I played with are now.
Should I visit the old neighborhood,
will I find our childhood spirits
still running around the streets?
Related quotes
Children Playing
Children playing in the street
Dirty face and dirty feet
Skipping ropes and singing songs
This will last all summer long
Fresh air as there playing out
Keeps them fit as they run about
Games they play I know so well
As my journey back to my childhood dreams
Remembering the days no money about
All us kids just played out
Ancient games our parents would play
I still remember to this day
Skipping ropes tug of war
And playing tag I adored
Playing out from dawn to dusk
Happy were we school was done
Dinner time what did we care
With so many friends out there
Mum calls us in its getting late
And homely food on a plate
Slept like a log without a doubt
My energy all burnt out
Just what will tomorrow bring
Our gang is talking about building a swing
These pleasant days I remember well
Because many times in my childhood dwell
To see a smile on a Childs face
The world is a happier place
07 09 2010
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
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Backyard Brawl
Got a cut on my thigh, got a nail in my eye
And I'm bleedin' all over the wall
Got a barbed wire bat and a dude on the mat
Ain't getting up soon at all
Got a head full of rage and a belly full of hate
I'm the neighborhood legend that just can't wait
For the backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Don't matter who you are, don't matter what color
Brown or white'll do
But if you're yellow you'll be covered in red
A whole lotta black and blue
Jump off the trailer in a pile full o' guys
Scratching and kicking and pulverized
For the backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Only got six teeth but three of those
Are sharp enough to bite off your nose
At the backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
[Spoken:]
You think you're so tough
You talkin' to me?
You're mine
Come on, let's go
Come on stitches...
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Salad Days
Once upon a summertime In days now sadly past
We ran we played, a world of time, oh... that it should last
Without a care of busy times, so seldom seen again
We lived a world through child.s eyes... every day a game.
The summer sun our constant friend, forever it would seem,
The rainy days a faded part, of this our childhood dream
The throes of summers growing pains, now left so far behind
The smell of grass so freshly cut, stays etched upon our mind
The fields of grain that caught the wind and whispered such a tune
Of childish thoughts and innocence... they disappeared so soon.
Our friends that walked beside us, so perfect, like the games
Those memories forever ours, tho' time can lose their names
How we laughed and how we cried and yet we never knew
That these would be our salad days, so perfect yet so few...
poem by Dave James
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Sweet Evening Breeze
I was loud and a little sad
She was visiting from atlanta, georgia
She had come to spend the summer with her dad
I thought she was very pretty
We would kiss and hold hands
Every night by the football field
Her body was tan
From the afternoons by the public swimming pool
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
I saw her in a coffee shop
In a big hotel down in austin, texas
She had cut her long hair off
And replaced it with
Blue eyes of sadness
Still acted like we were kids
And she told me that she had to marry
And she asked me if I did
Still remember
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
How redundant the future can be
These days of old are very, very
Ridiculous for me to see
When I think about the real gone stories
And how time holds the winning hand
I can tell by the lines on our faces
And the young cant understand
That they look at me
When they look at themselves
Chorus:
Oh, sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A tale of summer
Swallows catch insects on the wing
In the early morning sun,
And a cuckoo calls to tell us
That the summer has now begun.
The flowering meadow comes alive
With butterflies and the sound of bees,
Cherry blossom showers down like confetti
Carried on the summer breeze.
Swift and house martins arrive back from afar
Making a welcome sight,
And a nightingale sings on a summer evening
And on into the night.
The sweet smell of honeysuckle
Fills the evening air,
While fox cubs play on the edge of a coppice
The beauty of summer is everywhere.
A skylark sings high above
Fields of barley corn and wheat,
While on the lake swans with thier cygnets
Make the summer complete.
poem by Gordon Butchers
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Summer time to have fun
Summer is the fun time when get go swimming
Summer when I was born and took care of
Summer when July 4 comes around
every year
Summer is when you can lay out in sun
Summer is best time at night see
stars out
Summer when all families and friends
go to park with their kids
Summer is good time take animals
for a walk
Summer is good time of the season
plant flowers and stuff
Summer when I meet good friends online
that lives another state then we do
Summer is when I meet good guy to
talk to about anything I want and he lists
to me
Summer is when my birthday comes around
Summer when my mom birthday comes around
Summer is day I went swimming with my best friend
this year
Summer is when Amber birthday is
Summer is time of the year have cook out with friends
and your family.
Summer is good time year to have good time and swimming
and party and just have fun with everyone
poem by Kristina Riggs
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My Father Died
In the middle of the summer,
when I was twenty-two
and wore sneakers with no socks
and was growing my first beard,
my father died.
In the middle of the summer,
when my son was one years old
and lay in his playpen
in the hardscrabble grass of the backyard,
making living sounds
and grabbing for fistfuls of air,
my father died.
In the middle of the summer,
days before somebody walked on the moon,
days after the bright-colored beginnings
of my daughter's life,
my father died.
In the middle of the summer,
when, as a father,
I first sat out on the porch past midnight
listening to the haunting, faraway comfort
of late-night, west coast ball games,
and the tender wisps of breathing of my own two babes,
in the middle of the summer
when I first had trouble sleeping,
and before we had the luxury to know
each others' hurts and hollows,
hopes and heartaches,
in the summer of 1969
(several sad and sorry seasons
beyond the end of his living) ,
my father died.
As did,
as did a part of his boy.
poem by Will Thomas
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Summer evening
This is the summer evening
And I could not find
A bird here at this time.
The temple bell
Could not ring
To proclaim
Where is the king.
This is the pond
With no water
This is the sky
With no weather.
This is the summer evening
And I am crying
Without anything with me.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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My Summer
my summer is boring
my summer is wake
my summer is harebell
my summer is stupid
my summer is in my sisters house
my summer is in a sweet 16 prates
my summer is in my cozens house
my summer is away from my house
my summer is just dome
my summer is boring
my summer is messing my men
my summer is the worst summer of my bf
i wish i was whet my men this summer
i wish i was happy in the summer.
my bday is in the summer
this summer is just this summer: (
poem by Jencelyn Marin
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Gentle Sigh
There is a gentle sigh
as a warm summer evening calls
and lovers slip away
to their hideaways.
The stars twinkle bright
playing peek-a-boo with the moon
and not a stirring word is heard,
except the gentle sigh
that inherits the breeze
that faintly rustles the leaves
on a warm summer evening
just before darkness calls.
The world sings a hushaby melody
to children tucked in their bed
waiting for the sandman to call
and for a few minutes,
everything is still
listening to the gentle sigh
when warm summer evenings call.
poem by David Harris
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5. Friends
I remember in the fifties we didn’t have a lot
We were always pleased with everything we had
I remember how we utilised the things that we had got
Making things we knew would make each other glad
I remember sticks of rhubarb were red but mainly green
Tasting sour it would shrivel up your face
I remember hide & seek we tried hard not to be seen
Or running fast and calling it a race
I remember playing football in the middle of the road
Using jackets as a makeshift sort of goal
I remember by the pond on the day we found a toad
Where the tadpoles swam around it in a shoal
I remember in the summer playing out till it was dark
Made up games from almost anything we found
I remember bits of wood that we took down to the park
Wickets, bats a ball we had a cricket ground
I remember setting standards for other kids to beat
Always being there to set the latest trends
I remember summer sun that gave out a pleasant heat
But I remember most those very special friends
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Blue Summer
blue summer
outside sun is shinning to it’s height
children playing water games
down the street dogs playing same
blue summer, alone the most i have been
afternoon sunsets are great
yellow, orange and blue
but none greater without you
blue summer. i wish you are here
blue summer night
a brisk of hot air from dusks leftovers
sitting by the window, nothing to do
but think of you, and no other just you
blue summer, here i lay
with cold iced tea
a toss to you, conversing imaginarily
take my hand make this cold
blue summer day away from me
blue summer, alone the most I have been
poem by Azmayu Azmayu
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Tuesday Evening
AN EVENING
AFTER MONDAY
IS ALDO KRASS'
FAVORITE EVENING
IT IS TUESDAY
EVENING AND
IT IS NOT A BUSY
EVENING AND
ALDO LIKES IT
TO BE NOT
A BUSY EVENING
WITH HIS JULIET
AFTER WINTER
AND SPRING
IT WILL BE SUMMER
ON A TUESDAY
EVENING AND
IT WILL BE A LOVELY
EVENING
ALONE PERHAPS
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This is what summer means to me
A warm summer day
without a cloud in sight
A baby bird
Taking its first flight
This is what summer means to me
Trees full of leaves
Giving me shade
My dad and I
Fishing in the glade
This is what summer means to me
Watching my daughter
Play on her slide
And how She will never
Want to come inside
This is what summer means to me
See how she enjoys the day
Until the very last
Just like me as a child
Long ago in the past
This is what summer means to me
The distant roar
Of a neighbors lawn mower
Unruly grass be gone
For ever more
This is what summer means to me
The smell of charcoal
And good friends all around
Birds singing in the trees
What a lovely sound
This is what summer means to me
© JPM 5/25/2008
I remember my childhood
I remember my childhood
Whenever I am in the mood
I remember my childhood
With the bad and the good
I remember my childhood
With the variety of available junk food
Funny, the old want to be young
While kids endeavour to be old and strong
Girls wanted to grow up fast as women
Boys wanted to grow up fast as men
Before they could walk right or learn
Those were good times
With very little crime
We had fun with little a dime
How is that for a rhyme?
Mum would call us for biscuits and cakes
While we played games and learnt from mistakes
We all went anxiously to school
To see what best pranks any of us could pull
I remember my childhood
I was always polite and not rude
I remember my childhood
If I could then you should
We as kids all had dreams
Which we shared as a team
We all loved to rock but hated homework
I mean what was the point of so much paperwork
And what is really bizarre
Is that I was always after
The bedtime stories from Mama and Papa
I also enjoyed the view of the nightly stars from afar
Same way I loved presents at Christmas and Easter
Mama always used to say
A gift no matter how little will lift anyone's spirit any day
I remember my childhood
And the adventures in the woods
I remember my childhood
With all the includes and excludes
I remember my childhood
And till today there are still things I've never understood
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Summer Is Here
I hear the sounds of children at play,
as the sun has turned
the black clouds of rain away.
Summer is here
and laughter fills the air,
flowers fill the gardens
with colour everywhere.
After a hard days work
you feel free,
some will sit the evening out
eyes glued to the TV.
Not for me the little box,
rather an evening stroll.
Then sit to rest
my weary bones somewhere,
letting the cool evening breeze
dance with my hair.
As I sit quietly
absorbing all around.
Watching the sun
sink slowly in the west.
Breathing in the cool evening air,
as night begins to call.
11 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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Once Again In The Southwest Balcony
what connects me to you
and this southwest balcony?
it's the same balcony
it's the same sky
and the chair too is the same...
you know, this late summer evening
the lightly-cast sky over the balcony
moved to descend on me sitting
as usual insulated in the accustomed chair
that typical cool early summer evening breeze
came swinging in fits only after
caressing the capricious clouds
it brushed past my forlorn cheeks
setting ablaze the memories i tightly
gift-wrapped and kept securely
in a tiny wicker-basket in my heart
the same passing cloud this time
released trillion needles of rain drops
even on my eye lids making it difficult for me
through the blurred vision there appeared
your persona once on the cloud
once between the real big rain drops
unique to a summer shower
alluring and eluding my grasp
an unknown destination beckoned me
between you and me
did i miss my way?
31mar2010
19.40hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Get Hold Of The Night
Some fresh air will do your good
Get hold of the night
This is the last summer night
Before winter gets here
Still light out side
Isn’t this night incredible?
Or what?
It is too late now
I wished I knew it would had happened ahead of time
So I could get a picture
Of this summer night
Looks like the kids got the idea in the street to get out doors and play the last
Hockey game of the summer
On this spectacular and magnificent night
Get hold of the night
It would be silly to stay
In doors on a magnificent and spectacular summer night
It won’t last long
I kissed the summer good bye
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Summer! ! !
last day
bell rings
kids say
and angels sing
ITS SUMMER
tank tops
dark tans
flip-flops
electric fans
ITS SUMMER
sunshine
cool shades
tanlines
big parades
ITS SUMMER
memories
photographs
we all say cheese
but it wont last
ITS SUMMER
poem by E.A. England
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