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Ian Robinson Jan 16
March winds
And April showers
Make way for sweet may flowers
Then comes June
A moon and you,

March winds and April showers
Romance will soon be ours
And outdoor paradise
For two
Inkheart Nov 2018
But nostalgia still leaves ink
On my palms
And she leaves stains
On my lids
So when I close my eyes
I can only see you
And see you
And see you

And occasionally she
Will drip down my lashes
An arduous descent
Down the path of friendship
And silently
Blot my cheeks
In blackish hues
Of me and you

And I have loved you since December
SMS Oct 2018
Coverups and bikini strings
Swimming trunks and surfboards
Glow sticks and wristbands
Fireflies competing with bonfires
Beer bottles half buried in sand
Memories of those June nights
Forgotten in this bitter cold
Haylin Sep 2018
you showed me
the kind of love
and kindness
I didn't know at the time
came from above
you were nothing less
than a gift from God
you were
and I wonder
how heart grew so big
he sent you to touch many
especially me
you gave your who life's time
to helping others
I watched you
go so out of your way
to give all you could
to so many strangers
you did it with joy
it wasn't a chore for you
how did your hear get so big
and looking back now
I don't think your heart problems
were caused by your diet
or genetics
it was because you gave
and gave and gave
and gave all that was in it
as much as a human heart
would possibly allow
and I know you didn't regret it
you were sincere
you were genuinely interested
in the lives of others
never considering what you
looked like to them
you just loved to give
when you called me your favorite
I know that you meant it
the bond that we shared
was truly one of a kind
the love you showered on me
was not of this world
how did your heart get so big
talia Sep 2018
i stayed up through the night
and watched the moon get chased across the sky
and watched as the serenity of night
brought forth the bleakness of day
in all its empty whites
bitter blues
and tired greys
there’s something to be said about a sunrise
in which the sun is nowhere to be found
Mary-Eliz Jul 2018
Aztec gold-brown soil between
rows and rows of summer green
invites berry-gatherers
shorts and sun hats
baskets in hand

techniques unique to each

stooping for close inspection
looking for perfection
color, form, ripeness
choosing one by one

bending just enough to grab
in a hurry
sun beats down
wiping brow

others mosey
the peace of this stretch
of land so well tended
so bounteous

best approach
little child plopped down
near the beginning
hand to mouth fast as she can
crimson juice coloring lips
drips down chin
beneath contented impish smile
A memory of my two-year-old niece's introduction to strawberry picking.
Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
"A blue and gold mistake",
Wrote Emily from inside her room,
A self-inflicted tomb,
About a path she could not take,
Into the month of June.

Let others stroll beneath its cerulean sky
And thank the sward, on which they lie,
A lunging into voluptuous play,
Yet blinded to the rushing by
Of sultry month and jovial day.

Did the poet’s being kept apart
From worldly joys well-made,
Or from crystal pools and glaucous glades,
From brilliant sun that fashions shade,
Embitter her admiring heart
To look askance at anything that fades?

Did she not care that
One month, though doomed to end,
Was also made to reappear
After the long march of winter’s year
As the sun came round again,
To loose us from our unlocked pens?
This was inspired by Emily Dickinson's assessment of June as a mistake in her poem "These are the days when the birds come back". I imagined I was writing to her, perhaps reading it outside her window, trying to cheer her up a bit by reminding her that changing seasons are not all bad--that the month of June is not only joyous, but reappears.
ruth Jul 2018
I want to live.

I want to savour the taste of adventure on my lips - as I take a breath
in the first air of June,

I want to throw my eyes into the sky until I'm soaring - through
Cloud and Sunray,
on the brim of Sea and the edge of Horizon.

They'll take me in,
with a warm welcoming wave of wonderwhy
and I'll question the day -


that I was scared to step outside.
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