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Gabriel Aug 2022
i see things in high definition colour, but
july is the only month that fluctuates—
between florida orange and, later, burnt sienna;
everything between the 1st to the 31st
is dipped in a honey-glaze of three things:
1. warm, sticky air
2. the feeling of 6pm
3. bicycles riding through fields of fireflies.

naturally, i spend most of july in my bedroom—
the heat gets to me, makes my allergies flare
and i watch movies; old, 80s, movies (or—tiktok clips
of the same movie, only broken up into thirty-six parts
that i view from my bed with my naked legs spinning vertical circles through the air).

i always forget the feeling of august
until it’s there again. july
overshadows it with the final embers, so i only realise
it's august on maybe the 5th or 6th. almost
a full week into a month that my brain—
which is never wrong about the way things feel—
sees a deep, ocean blue.

i don't write home about august. i don't hurry it up
through winter months, when i begin the countdown
to hot, hazy days. if anything, i view august
as the ending of something, of a summer i wished so hard for.

and every time, it blindsides me with love.

i love things more in august. i love the smell of summer-
rain on the pavement. i love songs i listened to in january.
i love waiting around for halloween. i love my bedroom,
the pause of heat-sick sleep, the blue-sky mornings.

i write love letters to autumn in a time capsule. i text july and ask u up?, and wyd?, and come over?

and still, when summer ends, i will never want to get what i wish for.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2022
Wars and rumors of wars,
plagues and questions of reason

sames we see,
times and seasons, sames we see

reasons to wonder, seasons to think
may be so, maybe otherwise, too;

same as me, and you.
Different almost always, still the same.
Sun showers, nearly always, this time of year.
lua Jul 2022
incessant
annoying
the buzz of cicadas in the edge of july

incessant, annoying
buzz of sunlight against my skin
prickles my cells
bleaching my hair

the world does not sway
there is no breeze, no gentle winds
just the shadows of leaves
and circle lights on the grass

dipping into the heat
dipping into the light
into the buzz of summer's noise

i hope it doesn't drive me crazy
i hope i don't sunburn.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2021
~
Eulogy of the heart
in a locket around her throat
all the little memories
of sun and moon
of wind and rain
recited by bruised lips
that took the euphony
of his kisses
to mean him a lover
of such beautiful things
but will-o'-the-wisp was he
as so mistaken was she

~
Inspired by and title taken from Caroline Shank's poem "Tango"
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4466022/tango/
Grey Aug 2021
I strung up Christmas lights on the trees in my mind
and haven’t taken them down yet.
8/1/2021
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, nice day:>


to be rich is to notice the fair from the unfair
give no judge to wisdom from the first stare
but not on the Earth thing
the brutality royal flushes and stings

now I fear
that someday that wheel is put to gear
put the cursed paper
on a thorny throne later

afraid my nose would sniff the skies
afraid my hopes would tear my early rise
afraid my greed would bury my shame
afraid my humor would be trashed in lame

not for me
a jeopardizing frisbee
my tarnished house warmer than a fancy chimney
promise my dreams in purple
faithful to myself would never be a hurdle


                                                                                       ------ravenfeels
Farah Taskin Jul 2021
It drizzled
It's mizzling
It'll rain

The sky is sunless
Natheless
It's not alone
The sky has tender clouds
Unlike me
The sky
is never lonely

July has the musical concert
of rain
Patterson Jul 2021
I am 22;
staring at the mismatched cups
arranged in my kitchen cupboard,
wondering if I'll ever have great big matching sets
of plates, bowls, forks, knives, spoons
and cups

I am 22 and in love,
wondering how I got so lucky
-throwing myself backward,
through time,
to the person standing at my front door
one whole year ago.
Heart-hammering in their chest,
a fresh-cut key in their hand,
still raw with heart-ache:
An empty flat,
and a new life
behind a locked door.

I am old enough now
to recognize the shifting cycles;
to know that every August
is painted rose gold like setting sun
-and to know that February
cannot claw and tear at my ribs
lest I let it.
I am old enough to know
that I can start over -
without fear, without shame.
But young enough to leave bigger things
to chance:
                 love
                 happiness
                 hope
                 promise
these are answers I don't have

And I don't need to.
No,
I am 22,
brewing coffee in chipped cups,
planting kisses on a forehead,
arms, hands, sides, cheeks, lips,
dancing and jumping
when the world lifts around me.
I am 22,
and the world lies open before me.
I moved into my flat on July 4th in 2020, and though I am miles away from America, I felt that same spirit of liberty. To this day I view July 4th as my emancipation - my fresh start. And life has only gotten better since that day; September came and I fell in love, December came and I said it out loud for the first time. And since then I've only been growing and finding my feet in the wide world.
I am genuinely happy, and though heart break left me raw, I wouldn't change a single thing.
Chris Chaffin Jan 2021
She steps
in tune
with night,
with moon,
to trace
the runes
of power.

July,
too soon,
will come—
she’ll swoon,
her lands
festooned
with flowers.
Lanna K Dec 2020
you bring the warmth with you wherever you go. The heat, like your spirit follows everyone you touch. You’re like the afternoon sun, high in the sky your presence and love for all beings is staunch. You are a light in this dark time. Your humility,love, and kindness is like the last piece of desert - you savor every last crumb.
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