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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
[ 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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heat Of Summer, Heated Love.
Summer's heat can swelter and melt...
As summer's heat may simmer as weld.
Some summer's heat can burn as long...
This summer's heat can impel a song.
Summer's heat can cook and bake...
Summer's heat of life can take.
Boil and broil a heart so hot...
A summer's heat can break that romanceful knot.
This heat of summer can smoulder and rot.
Anger's heat, heats up my libido's furnace...
This love of summer can invoke to heart, a loving furnish.
Love of summer brings to mind, a resurgance of love...
Summer's sun may bathe one and all with heat fro' above.
Summer's heat can bring to beaches and swimming pools...
Visions of women in bikinied thongs, these things my eyes do love.
poem by Michael Gale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Omaha
Start tearing the old man down
Run past the heather and down to the old road
Start turning the grain into the ground
Roll a new leaf over
In the middle of the night there's an old man
Treading around in the gathered rain
Hey mister if you want to walk on water
Would you drop a line my way
Omaha
Somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more
I think you'd better turn your ticket in
And get your money right at the door
Start threading the needle
Brush past the shuttle that slides through the cold room
Start turning the wool across the wire
Roll the new life over
In the middle of the night there's an old man
Threading his toes through a bucket of rain
Hey mister if you want to walk on water
You're only going to walk all over me
Omaha
Somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more
I think you'd better turn your ticket in
And get your money right at the door
Start running the banner down
Drop past the color come up through the summer rain
Start turning the girl into the ground
Roll a new life over
In the middle of the day there's a young man
Rolling around in the earth and rain
Hey mister if you're going to walk on water
song performed by by Counting Crows from August And Everything After
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold snap in August;
frost in June, March heat wave:
Peace among nations.
haiku by Sonny Rainshine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Big Wheels
Ive been thinking it over
So many times they say
You got it made
They never understand
The answer lies within your soul
cos no one know which side
The coin will fall.
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning, turning...
Save it for a rainy day
For when the cold wind blows
Just to see how they run
I thought theyd know
I tried my best, all I could do
But somehow it was not enough for you.
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning, turning,
Turning, turning...
Chorus:
I remember the dead of night
A lonely light that shines upon the window
I see it all so clear
The tenderness, the silent tears
Out here in the pouring rain
Through cold dark waiting days
I see you standing there
I see the big wheels turning
Never ending, on and on they go.
I think Im going home
I think Im gonna have to start again
Its rather sad
Because Ive looked around, cant seem to find
Whatevers always rolling through my mind
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning, turning
Turning, turning...
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Kool-Aid Made
Some prefer ice tea.
A Pepsi or their Coke.
Or maybe just Spring water,
To minimize their thirsts.
Some pray for a breeze,
When sweat drips from their brows.
But with Kool-Aid made I make,
I don't mind these 'dog days' few allow.
My Kool-Aid made,
Tastes more like fresh lemonaide.
With concentrated lemon to add flavor.
The Summer August heat,
Spiced with humidity depletes and beats...
But a pick up with my Kool-Aid saves,
The ones who labor.
My Kool-Aid made tastes more like fresh lemonaide.
Here,
Try a sip.
With concentrated lemon to add flavor.
Oh.Oh.
And the Summer August heat,
Yeah!
Spiced with humidity isn't sweet.
And my Kool-Aid made,
Picks up those who labor.
Oh.Oh.
The Summer August heat,
Yeah!
Spiced with humidity isn't sweet.
And my Kool-Aid made,
Picks up those who labor.
My Kool-Aid made tastes more like fresh lemonaide.
With a 'fruit smack'.
And adding my own lemon to the flavor.
Oh.Oh.
The Summer August heat,
Yeah!
Spiced with humidity isn't sweet.
And my Kool-Aid made,
Picks up those who labor.
Note:
My gratitude extended to Edward Perkins and wife Kitty...
Who, in 1927, invented Kool-Aid in Hastings, Nebraska.
Those six original flavors then were strawberry, cherry, lemon-lime, grape
orange and raspberry.
The predecessor was a liquid concentrate
called Fruit Smack!
'Thank you Ed and Kitty'
~LSP~
Source: Wikipedia.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the summer heat
In the summer heat
a dry mouth i got seeking for your lips
In the summer heat
death silence surrounds my heart beat
In the summer heat
a song of love i whistle just for you
In the summer heat
i let my hopes to see the sun
In the summer heat
i see your eyes like never before
sparkling in the sun
calling to be adored again
by your crazy poet.
poem by George Tzouvaras
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When leaves in August
When leaves in August
start to fall and dance,
with the wind swishing past
they are twisting, whirling and turning
while the icy cold sneaks in,
then you know that winter
seriously is causing havoc.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Turning Japanese
Ive got your picture
Of me and you
You wrote, I love you.
I love you, too
I sit there staring when theres nothing else to do
Oh, its in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when theres no one else around
Ive got your picture, got your picture
Id like a million of em over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Ive got your picture, Ive got your picture
Id like a million of them over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder its dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
Everyone
Thats why Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so)
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so...)
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Away With The Summer Days
Verse 1:
I met her on a sunny sunday afternoon
She hit me with a smile warmer than the days of june
By then I knew she had to be in some way a part of me
She was as beautiful as a flower in bloom, flower in bloom
Chorus:
The heat of the sunshine could not compare
To the heat of the passion in times we shared
And then out of the blue the cold winds came
She went away and Ill never be the same
She went away with the summer days
She went away with the summer days
Verse 2:
We were inseperable we would spend
Everyday together night after the day would then
The time would come for the sun to leave (sun to leave)
Thats the way things had to be (had to be)
And when the sun was gone I looked around and so was she
Chorus:
The heat of the sunshine could not compare
To the heat of the passion in times we shared
And then out of the blue the cold winds came
She went away and Ill never be the same
She went away with the summer days
She went away with the summer days
Summer days, oh, summer days
She went away with the summer days
Bridge:
Though the summertime is through (the summertime is through)
I cant stop thinking of you (thinking of you)
I cant seem to get you off my mind
All I know is I cant wait until next summertime
Chorus:
The heat of the sunshine could not compare (noooo)
To the heat of the passion in times we shared
And then out of the blue the cold winds came
She went away and Ill never be the same
She went away with the summer days
She went away with the summer days
The heat of the sunshine could not compare
To the heat of the passion in times we shared
And then out of the blue the cold winds came
She went away and Ill never be the same
She went away with the summer days
She went away with the summer days
song performed by by Youngstown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heat
O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.
Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air--
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.
Cut the heat--
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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August
August
The massive heat which paralyzed any thought of going
outside during the day, the heat was as a huge military
blanket glued to the body like skin of grief, wars fought
for no gain other than the knowledge that new masters
who promised peace and freedom, will renege first thing
when safely in power as sure as August will return.
The September evening is soft and gentle as lover´s sigh
the breeze is cooling wooden telephone poles, it is now
possible to ring without hearing the crackling of agony of
sap dripping dowels. The voices of people eating their
meal on terraces and porches are like forgotten a tune
remembered; this, a moment to be cherished when rain
and fog comes and turns the village into gloom and we´ll
under our umbrellas say: ” August wasn´t that awful.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Summer's Ode
~0~
A summer's fallen from the sky, it seems,
with heat a'waving in the sultry breeze.
Though June has fled 'pon wings of time, now gone,
its goodbye echoes through the swaying trees.
And July brings its days of warmth to hold,
with sun a'melting in a sapphire sky.
O'summer's middle-aged by now, alas,
breathing fire upon the days that pass us by.
A gentle turn of earth brings August near,
with fleeting day and ever-ending night.
And July passes through the summer's rain,
its thunder heard within a season's flight.
And so, a summer's aged with sweet remorse,
with days a'dwindling down 'til chill's return.
Yet, September still must sing its last refrain,
'ere summer days of memory swiftly burn.
A summer's fallen from the sky, it seems,
with heat a'wavering as its days grow old.
Though bittersweet the parting soon will be,
goodbye echoes with a promise ~ made of gold.
~0~
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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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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A Warm August Day In Old Duhallow
A warm August day in old Duhallow far north of here and miles away
And swallows high o'er sunlit meadows scenting sweetly of mown hay
And songbirds silent on the hedgerows in Summer you seldom hear them sing
they always pipe their finest in the prime months of the Spring.
A warm day in August in the fields of Knocknagree
And old gray faced rook is cawing on high branch of elm tree
And the magpie he is chattering as into the grove he fly
From once seen and heard he's one that's not hard to identify.
A warm day by Clara mountain by the old Town of Millstreet
And the skylark is not singing o'er the bracken in the heat
In the warm days of late Summer he doesn't feel the urge to fly
High above the sunlit mountain for to carol in the sky.
A warm day in August and the drains of water dry
And the old man says often in August I've seen water flowing bank high
And the long range weather forecast is the weather will be fine
And that at least another fortnight of warm days and sunshine.
A warm August day in Duhallow and the farmer in short sleeves
And the temperatures quite pleasant around 25 degrees
Still it can't be very long now till the cool winds of change blow
And the Paps and Caherbarnagh will be in their hats of snow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Light of the Fire
As the daytime sun draws closer to rest
The light still lingers
The loving heat of a sun loved bliss turning cold
My heat refrained by my fire
My fire now alight
The crackle and snap of the wood so burnt
It provides my heat that the day sun will not
My friend in this increasing darkness
My companion whilst I tread upon my thoughts and memories
My item of the real world in my abundance of life
I see in my mind a many things lit by my fire
My friends the ones whom shall never judge me only love me
My partner the one who I shall always love and hope she does in return
My family particular to my cousins so young and unprepared
Waiting for me to help them through
And also my enemies the people who would hurt me and I would be happy to hurt in return
But I smile upon them, for if not for them how would I know what trust is
All my thoughts relate to a fire as for one spark and the whole thing can be burnt
But without the burning of flames ignited how would I live my Life?
Time to return now to tend my fire large it has grown such has life
Both need tending to see them continue and to keep me warm and satisfied for at least a bit longer.
poem by Daniel Laurence
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Snow In July
Love was burning like the summer
We were lost in one another
Holding on, holding on
We could not escape the heat
Love was dangerous but sweet
And it was strong
Now youre talking bout your freedom
What is that you say
You suddenly declared to me
Your independence day
Caught me by surprise
Fog turning to ice
Well it aint even cold, baby,
How could it snow in july
Well, you led me to believe that
You found everything you needed
In my arms, for so long
I thought everything was fine
Now youre turning on a dime
And moving on, moving on
Now I should have brought my sweater
For a chill is in the air
Theres a sudden change of weather
For which I am not prepared
Caught me by surprise
Fog turning to ice
Well, it aint even cold, baby
How could it snow in july
Well, I should have brought my sweater
For a chill is in the air
Theres a sudden change of weather
For which I am not prepared
Caught me by surprise
Fog turning to ice
Well, it aint even cold baby
How could it snow in july
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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