#heat poems on Hello Poetry

Sally A Bayan Apr 2017

(on a Black Saturday)

Sun beams touch the lustrous shells of
the capiz chime, dazzling the eyes and mind,
the walls on both sides of the big window are
newly painted, immaculately white, so bright,
....the pink blooms of the bougainvillea,
humbly bowed for almost two weeks now,
have turned to a faded brown.......wilting...

the strange nest had fallen, and gone
the young of the yellow green-breasted birds
have grown, flown away...all have found
............other trees to perch on

the sweet sop tree quivers
from its heavy fruits and birds on branches
enjoying their meal of fruits...ripe and juicy,
leaving some for the bats at night

a striped yellow cat rests on a shaded part
of the roof...i patiently wait for daddy long legs
to come out from the gutter...but in vain...
...paint still wet?...scent too strong, maybe?

maybe, the gravel and pebbles on the ground
weigh too much...did i unknowingly bury them?
i am missing the spectacle of an earthworm,
..........emerging from under the soil

big ants are restless...driven out...roaming,
the bricked wall's natural tan-beige shade
has surfaced...concrete wall is too hot...
these bricks, must be repainted white, as well

the ants, the spiders, the earthworms,
the bats, make their own preparations,
why can't we human beings do the same?
we prefer to suffer the consequences, and
deal with the results of unpreparedness:
el nino, earthquakes, unwanted people,
la nina, unexpected decisions, unwanted
changes...and all sorts of crazy "uns,"

townhouses have risen on my street
strange faces of new neighbors
......pass me by...
......as i write...
the worst heat of summer is yet to come...

Sally

Copyright April 15, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(the day had just started...
these are Black Saturday morning reflections...
my late mother had often said before,
Black Saturdays take too long to end...i don't know why)

#observations #blacksaturdaymorning #heat #uns

LucidLucy Apr 2017

thoughts about Summer

When I start thinking of you,
will you think of me too?

#love #summer #space #heat

Raghu Menon Apr 2017

Unbearable..(15w)

The heat
Is it outside
Or inside of me
Either way
It is becoming
Unbearable.

#heat #inside #outside #unbearable #15 #words

Camellia-Japonica Mar 2017

خمسين‎‎ khamsīn, "fifty"

There's a promise brought on the wind
A whisper that speeds to a shout
50 days of sand walls heralding spring
The promise of new beginnings
First as payment for this new birth, Mother Earth
Blows grains of sand into the eyes of humankind
Suffocating and choking all in the barren land
Spring is heralded by a claustrophobic cyclonic dust storm
A new beginning, fresh and clean
Above the howling rising sandstorm, spring is sprung.

Khamsin is a hot southerly wind, varying from southeast to southwest, that blows regularly in Egypt and over the Red Sea for about 50 days, commencing about the middle of March.
Copyright © JLB
31/03/2017
00:45GMT

#wind #promise #heat

Scott F Hemingway Mar 2017

Ä Spree

Where I met allure
she was my craft inured

that round my futon
when her neck was born

ready her an all nighter
with vita relinquished

uproariously keen in swelter
but really resurrected platitude

a scorcher for sure
and dreams whetted with desire

while attire was crumpling
here round my dumpling

the weather most attested her rap
that I'd relish her bare

much than sympathy again
always tile her spree.

#love #season #bliss #heat #fresh

Nishu Mathur Mar 2017

A summer of spices

I foresee a summer of spices
Of a saffron mid day sun
And flowers of anise
On trees of cinnamon
And the aromatic pepper vine
That seasons lands of green
Will find its way into -
A warm summer cuisine.

#life #summer #warm #heat #spices

K Balachandran Mar 2017

Sultry noon

None other than him
matters here at the noon.
The sun is an out and out autocrat
the sky, he singularly rules,without
any apology to anyone.
He has banished all the clouds;
not even the faint trace of
fluffy, milky  white strands
seemingly unstoppable
till the far horizon.

This is when his hidden
intention to scorch all at sight
is at it's atrocious peak,
which would lead to his decline.

Under the low hanging sky
the earth parched dry,
is a cry for mercy.Sun now is
a roaring water fall of heat
waves lash one after the other.

The village of thatched mud huts
stand dazed, like it's women
in this ascending symphony of pain
not feeling any difference of tune,
this is what it always been.
It's a living miracle, it  still exists
fighting the vagaries of winds and the sun
not willing to collapse as dunes of dust,
which would have been a better solution.

The little girls from a school
the only secret this village keeps,
in midday break pour out
like ants from  hidden anthills,
scurrying to all directions, trying
to cheat the wind spitting fire.

A frail old woman, her skin
sun scorched,dark,
deeply furrowed and folded
a true face  of resistance
life capable of in the face of
the attack of armies of obliteration,
sweating all over, sits under a tamarind tree
all twigs and only few patches of weak green,
cobbling for a living, as if it is her day last here.

Face to face with a village almost in all time drout

#existential #struggle #heat #wither #village

WJ Thompson Mar 2017

Bonfires Under Bridges

It was summer's bleeding
whether on dried grass
or straw
or whatever you want to call it
soaking
Sweat from pouring instruments
that we would give
Hands outstretched to our counterparts
our falling stars
That gave shape to our words,
our turns, our learned behavior

Static kisses, that were such the darling fantasy
My, empty vase of colored strings instead of tapestry

You've, been, watching me.
Our hauntings seas, my gallantries.
Shining armor on my eyelids
Painted faces, flying starships
All my heartstrings into

Static kisses, that were such the darling fantasy
My, empty vase of colored strings instead of tapestry.

I heard that when you walk on past those doors
You're followed by the man that you had left
behind so long ago, when you began to notice,
Those silhoettes, those heated scents
That greet us from a hand to hold
A cheek to kiss, a face to miss.

We all adore the hopeful mountains in the distance
We all have planned our mansions in the distance
Grasp the walking stick and for an instance
Plan to have our mansion in the distance

But you and I
We were such the sudden contemplative types
Your icy eyes, the daisy type of deeper maybes, for a moment.

And let me tell you, it sort of strikes me how this conversation's been
such a smooth and gentle river stone for skipping
classes, distracted, by the way your eyes reflect so well this fire
stirring in my soul like sparks that rise up towards the sunset.

Wrote this one years ago, one of my personal favorites.

#love #summer #fantasy #heat #bonfire #sparks

Ashley Black Mar 2017

Clarity

And in the waves of confusion,
we laughed as life swept us off our feet.
And in the fire of destitution,
we claimed joy amidst the heat.
And despite all our tears,
and beyond all our pain;
We sought clarity,
and danced through our rain.

#life #fire #tears #rain #joy #confusion #laughter #heat #clarity #destitution