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Summer heat
Barefoot running on a blacktop street
Lazy days
Swimming pools
summer vacation
There is no school
12 years old
To be again
One more time till the summer ends
Summer Days Remembered is the first poem I have written in about 2-3 years, it is my way of looking back at summer vacation/days as a kid. I forgot how therapeutic and freeing writing truly is. Thank you in advance, to the Hello Poetry community for taking the time to read my poem, I would love any feedback you have. Thank you.
Sharon Talbot Jun 19
California Kids

I’ll call you up on Saturday
And invite you over.
Take the 101, 110 and 1;
(Sounds like an equation!)
And you’re there.
Just use your GPS..
There’ll be a party at my house,
Daft Punk playing on the Echo.
It’ll be epic, Echoic!
With some vintage’ tunes,
Crankin’ the Beach Boys,
Watching surfers
Shredding out-the-back,
Past prowling sharks in the shallows.
Lets go to the dunes and maybe kiss.
I know that you miss me,
So don’t ask me why
And when you come,
I won’t ask
“What are you doing here?”
We’ll eat fish tacos,
Guacamole, Pico de Gallo
And drink margaritas
While we debate French new wave,
I’ll praise Truffaut while you
Tell me that Scorsese is the man.
When we get drunk enough
I will suggest a walk
Along the iridescent surf.
You should say yes because
I’m safe now that I drive electric,
That I turned vegan
(sorry about the fish)
and wear cruelty-free clothes.
I don’t grill snapper anymore
And take my shoes off inside the door.
Maybe we’ll make it to Tower 28,
Lay down and watch the full moon
Like Jim Morrison did to write.
I’ll tell you I’m glad you’re alive—
I’m no poet, but you know that.
This was inspired by the joyous, freewheeling song by Weezer and the SNL skit about the Californians. I sort of envy them!
Much love eternally yours
E,BR,JM, Much Love
choose friends wisely
Your enemies are not above the law
Free yourselves.
Psalm 109.
Na myo ** tenge Kyo.
Ken Pepiton Mar 25
Magic tears, any time,
anytime an old man can share, some
subtle sense that the kids are alright,

life makes sense, over a span,
of three generations, over lapping,
-mindtimespace pre-excavated
bubbles of happy old men
center the evolving sequence
sheltering open minds and soft hearts
being there, inbetween what's coming down
stirring quantum foam
into active magic surficant

applied with sticky gnosisnot
as hot tar on a roof, or thatching,
all in steady ready peace,
occurrence-easy, expanding
at will, becoming as aha at once
as all zeitgeist guests do,
a grand parent bubble, winking
at each,
defined as one of a kind,
no two alike, and, as a matter of fact,
making your heaven
on earth like mine

would cost you the hell I paid, and
there's no need, things, we agree,

you, dear reader, and I, a we, of some
notion once given thought to float on,

after taking a famous great notion,
to jump in the ocean and drown, done

and proceeding to drown, down, down
I lived
to tell, I decided
climbing out from
depths of angst, actual wrong thinking,
twisted proverbs, and jokes with no story.

Nuns or skunks… what's black and
white, and black and white, and
black, and white…. rolling down a hill,

or it could be cop suvs, too.
Or a yen yank thang. right.
- the route from the bus stop
- blind milk horse, what did you say?

I was paying no attention,
then smallest, though not youngest,
granddaughter finishes,

Magic tears, are when you see
another person cry, and you cry, too.

Grandpa said, yeah, that's a gift,
like a subtle super power.

She said, yes, she knows.
Another sappy grandpa echo from the ride up from the bus stop on a kinda dreeary day.
Ken Pepiton Jan 15
Little thinks, discipline
ignoring, thinking,
who would know.

A line in thinking,
a thread of thought
who would know.

A stitch, to catch a run,
never saw it coming,
who would know.

Who are people, too.
You have imagined them.
Who knows what every body
such as you,
fed Ted Geisel, who knew.

Who would know,
if you told them.
I said, I sent you.
I got The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, for Christmas,
and read it interactively live... and learned a lot.
Brandon Diaz Dec 2022
Where does a sneeze go when you don't sneeze?
Just like a hurricane in my nose
but loses wind and just won't go.
Where did my sneeze go?
Its not up high
and its not down low.

Maybe my sneeze got lost,
doesn't know where to go anymore.
Maybe my sneeze got tired,
resting in a big box of cardboard.
Maybe my sneeze got tossed,
down the river washed up on shore.
Maybe my sneeze just retired,
restless on the dance floor.

Ive lost my sneeze
I put posters everywhere,
Ive lost my sneeze
I can't find them anywhere.

One day that sneezed found me
Not one, not two, but three.
I write kids poems now
RayRay Aug 2022
If happiness is a look,
It will be a smile on my child face
If happiness is a sound,
It will be the laughter of my child voice
If happiness is a feel,
It will be the touch of my child on me
If happiness is a taste,
It will be sharing bowl of food with my child
If happiness is a smell,
It will be the smell of my child smelly hair

My children's, A and N, you have saved me more then you will ever know.
I love you.

PS, same with the wife, with all the struggles and up and downs, we learn as we go.
Family is love
David Hilburn Jul 2022
Angel's heed
Master the vice, we sow in a due language?
Set to rights, and kept in eaves
Wasn't a friend to liberate, the eyes of an entourage?

Western courage's
The taste of tones of voice, a ply's tongue?
Able to remain in light, the irony which lingers...
Have is a calmer today, now in demand, among

Commands and irregularity's stones
In the hands of futures with a need, anon
Since, to wealth in named loans...
Of passions redoubt, the deed of love, is coming...

Open airs of motive and suggestion
Made for a like and wisdom of values, we took
To unrest for a need to be, a morality in lessons...?
That began here in our hands, and ended with a look...

Of subtlety and a rosy forecast
The modesty of requiem, the taste of harmony
Is a relationship with ideology, which in your hap
Is a caught sense of poise, that assumes youth is won't...

The call of the home, directions of duty, done
Avid to legends meteoric advance on poignancy, evoked
The truth in long rays of sunshine and the voice of what was
A day for sincerity to sit in the sight, of what was, our hope...
Something simple for the Fourth Of July!
s1mpl3po3t Jun 2022
Who is that on yonder trellis
Oh my gosh it's Little Ellis,
Climbing higher, hand over hand
Chasing something? nothing planned.

Perhaps he saw a shooting star
Or a will'-o-the wisp somewhere afar,
Regardless, Mother where were you?
When Ellis decided what to do.

When Ellis reached the top of the trellis
I think he said, “Hey, look at me fellas”,
And then he waited till his Momma could see
Knowing she will be proud of me

Momma came looking for Little Ellis
At first relaxed and then over zealous,
Running in circles, bordering on frantic
As her worries and fears became gigantic.

Then she heard a giggle, a **** and a burp
Over her head like a little bird chirp,
Raising her eyes upwards toward the skies
Little Ellis on the Trellis
Yelling, “Momma, surprise!”
Lexi Jun 2022
wanted to cut..
did nothing..
cried and then went to bed..
maybe I’m growing as a person or maybe I’m just to scared of the consequences..
like a dog with an electric collar.. eventually it’ll be to scared to move knowing that no matter what emotion, action, sound it makes.. it’ll be wrong.
Cut + doctors = kids Taken
Throw phone = broken phone ..****
Cry + sleep = sad soul with two kids
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