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S Bharat Apr 2021
In the Hot Summer

The sun mounts high
It blazes down on the floors
The children scurry by
Everyone has to be indoors

All the plants are adust
Temperature rises by degrees
Mulch thobs by gust
Wind is sighing in the trees

The men carpet mats
Lying in shodow they doze
Pests are the buzzing gnats
They deprive them of repose

Buffaloes let out gasp
Sheep squabble over water
On brims birds clasp
And each other they slaughter

A hot wind inflicts harms
Dust is carried by whirlwinds
Boys rush into farms
Eat up melons and leave rinds

Water begins to boil
Every drop ends up in smoke
It is the sons of soil
Who burn in heat and go broke

This is no less drought
Months ahead is the rain
Yet Karanj stands out
Blossomed in thirsty terrene.

S. Bharat
It is about how the summer season gets worse in India and makes things difficult for the people.
Susan N Aassahde Mar 2021
autumn yawn
shire of candles
prune early hop
Steve Page Mar 2021
Spring is a doing word
- quietly, softly, resolutely
repeatedly springing up
through the heavy clay
springing forward
past these ground hog days
offering an initiation rite
of colour, warmth and new light.

Spring is a doing word
- so do it right.
DC Hall Mar 2021
The fear of a frost
Has fled our minds.
I sit in full sun
Pale, after a long winter.
Chinese forget-me-nots
Peek through the ground
Send word to the california bluebell
The time is now
Susan N Aassahde Mar 2021
on the beach
scuttles my thyme
crocuses faze
Susan N Aassahde Mar 2021
on the shore
finding myself
ruins fade
March has marched in
Half way through the month
It is hot and has brought summer along
The grapes and melons have turned sweetest ripe
The mangoes have arrived too
Raw and green, they are best pickled
Come May
King Alphonso, will be here
From the wild coastal lands
To conquer every heart
For a golden reign
Liam Mar 2021
In these ugly times, my words reflect the nature.
Beauty is to be found, but it will be found later.
Like the hard-headed flower at the cusping of the spring,
My petals will soon open and sweet nectar it will bring.
When you breathe in you can feel the sharp spikes of winter
There goes another one, preparing for the winter Olympics, a dedicated sprinter
You can feel the quiet crunch of snow under your boots
You can see on the trees, the fresh winter fruits
Hear the branches swaying in the gentle breeze
The leaves brushing against each other slightly
You pull your scarf around your neck, giving it a small squeeze
Looking at the sky, you smile brightly
Another beautiful day, it might be
~ 10/2/21
Susan N Aassahde Mar 2021
root strike
for peas of zebra
on cotton silk
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