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Chuck Jun 2013
It's too hot to think
And there ain't enough to drink,
It's too hot to think
And there ain't enough to drink!
I don't know what to do
Cause I can't get over you.
I got those summertime blues
And they worse without you.
I got I got I got the bluuuuues

Yea, I got sweat runnin down my back
There ain't nothin, nothin like that
Yea, got sweat in my shoes
There ain't nothin left to do
Got those summertime blues
Cause there's no more sweatin with you
Yea, I like the way you sweat, baby
Better than the whiskey I can get
Yea, I liked the way we sweat, baby
From the hot day that we met
Now there ain't no more sweatin oooo...
Cause there aint no more of you

I got those summer summertime blues
You gave me the summertime blues
Can't get rid of the summer time blue
There just ain't enough cold *****
Got the summertime bluuuuse

Who you sweatin with now baby?
Who you sweatin with now baby?
Whose coolin in yo love?
I got no more you baby
You took away my drug!

Please come back lady!
Take away my blues
Come on back now baby!
I'm runnin out of *****.
It's too hot for fightin
That's not the sweatin I wanna do!

I got the summer summertime blues
Got the blue blue bluuuuse
The summertime blues baby
Got the hot hot blues baby
The summertime blues
The slang and the ***** talk is just my inner blues poet, not met to be offensive, and I'm not a raging alcoholic. I didn't even loose my baby. This is just a fun type of poem. I love the blues!
aldo kraas Aug 2021
Summertime will be here soon
I wait impatiently for you to arrive
Summertime I wished you were here
Summertime you don't know how much I love you
Summertime you give me energy that I need
Summertime you take my breath away
At summertime the sky is blue with no clouds
At summertime all the gardens are at full bloom
And the flowers have different colors
Summertime I am always happy when you arrive
And always sad when you end
I feel that you are very short
Yes there are times when the heat is unbearable
I feel more alive in the summer
In the summer time the birds are back
Singing there symphony
aldo kraas Aug 2021
Summertime will be here soon
I wait impatiently for you to arrive
Summertime I wished you were here
Summertime you don't know how much I love you
Summertime you give me energy that I need
Summertime you take my breath away
At summertime the sky is blue with no clouds
At summertime all the gardens are at full bloom
And the flowers have different colors
Summertime I am always happy when you arrive
And always sad when you end
I feel that you are very short
Yes there are times when the heat is unbearable
I feel more alive in the summer
In the summer time the birds are back
Singing there symphony
David P Carroll Mar 2021
In the summertime I'm feeling
So fine falling in love in the summertime and
Girls all around are so beautiful and bright
And I'm smiling as bright as the stars tonight
So take my hands and let's dance in the sun light and as
The little birds sing along
To this summertime song
I've a smile on my face and I'm
Having so much fun in the summertime
So let's all sing along to this beautiful
Summertime song.
C Jul 2020
I want to be outside in that sky

Summertime, so free, so high

Four walls are my captivity

This roof overhead contains me

I have so much to release, to give,
To share, to sing, to dance, to live!

So let me outside in that sky

Summertime, so free, so high
I have since escaped and am living in that sky
Allison moon Sep 2011
Birds sing
And the creek babbles lazily
trees rustle gently in the breeze
everything is so peaceful here in the summertime

Bees buzz blissfully
out in the golden meadow
Butterflies dance delicately in the clear blue sky
Slowly waltzing to the music of summertime

As evening falls the crickets start up a melody
Why, it's the worlds best symphony!
Fireflies twinkling up above in the night sky
loo just like stars in the summertime
Tyler Smiley May 2019
Hot breeze, 90 degrees. My shirt was soaking wet, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the sweat between my ******* or condensed beer bottle dripage falling from above. My days consisted of no work, all play. Vomiting out every ounce of fluid my body could hold once the clock struck 2AM, only to refuse the water and replenish myself with champagne in the morning. Filling myself with bubbles, hoping it’d make me more bubbly. For it was the season of the sun, of life, of vibrance- but I only seemed to be able to drag myself out from under my drunken mistake ridden sheets once night time arrived. I thrived in the darkness. It made it easier to put my tongue in places it shouldn’t have been, whether that be on a random salty neck or a burning bottle of tequila. It was the same cycle everyday, my goal to forget more than the day before. Until I didn’t remember anything anymore. I desperately wanted to find my way back to my old self, but it was left on the side of a road less traveled. A route with winding trails littered with shards of broken whisky bottles, and with every step I took more blood was drawn. But I was finally letting myself feel the pain instead of forcing its head down to drown in the overflowing liquid in my throat. Hotter than hell, late August brought a new fire to my eyes. I still don’t know how I survived the sweet, sweet summertime.
Summertime, boyfriends, and other things that nearly killed me is a short prose collection by me. Check back next week for part 2!
MalakF Jul 2018
During summer is when my head fogs up even more, its when I begin to lose control. This happens each summer and it always ends the same way.
‘Hurry up’ I thought,
‘Take me away’.
Shawn Dec 2010
the warmth of summertime,
you can almost taste it,
thankful for the sunshine,
not a second wasted,
faced with a warm breeze,
pines become palm trees,
swaying in the wind,
as if they embraced it,

these days are made with,
the feel of your grace,
the smile on your face,
resting on my pillowcase,
there is no other place
that can match this second,
so i hold on to this moment,
trust, i've learned my lesson,

cause the summertime
will soon become winter fury,
and your smile, in that summer,
it's the only thing to cure me,
and surely,
the only thing that keeps me sane,
is knowing you're still the same,
and neither snow, nor rain,
can change

you,
you're the summer, in snow,
you've got that special glow,
that i hope is only known,
by me, cause honestly,
if they were to see,
what i can see,
they would break you down,
bottle you up,
and sell your soul,
like ecstasy

thats what you do to me,

and it may sound twisted,
but the warmth that you bring,
is a gift that was lifted,
from a place that only be amongst the clouds,
you are the brightest light,
shining in a massive crowd,

and I'm wowed by your grace,
there is no other place,
that can erase,
your face smiling on my pillowcase,
i'll retrace those seconds in my mind,
because you,
are the taste of summertime.
Copyright SMK, 2008.
Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
What a rash of time we've wasted.
Drunken, displaced it all.
The hiking trails up solemn, summer
ridge lines. Jagged arrowheads lifted
out toward the sky and we feel gifted.

A crack in the rock a millennia old.
The dangers of going it alone;
the spy who came in from the cold.

Two open throated eulogies and scatter her ash.
Two years of time spent together, now memorized pash.

Sifting through sight lines of our mediocre city streets.
Sweating up the summertime together-alone,
and getting twisted as we jam to louder growing beats.

We took our hands and divined a place on the timeline.
Steady rocking for two revolutions until
she set over the horizon beyond the sunshine.
Look for her and see her in every which place.
It's never her figure and never her face, but
shower curtain blurs and the curls in hair of other girls.
She exists as every brunette that I'll never forget.
Not that I'd want it.

They say, "She loved you. That much is clear."
What a romantic gesture to abandon me here.

If you can read this from your heavenly repose. My heart has grown fonder and still it grows. I'm sure you can see me,
the struggle of having to be anything at all.
Your number is somebody else's now. There's nobody to call.
Summertime gives way to Autumn,
I'm sorry if you hurt having to see what I do now.
The glyphs in my mountain roots.
My rotting bark and lost spark.
My constant stops and false starts.
My swelling, my welts, the harm I cause.
You're not to be blamed, darling.
Not a single word from my tongue nor do I entertain
the thought of others who wish you disdain.
I've lost a bit of myself in the guilt and the shame.
Truth be told, I'm not sure I'll recover and be the same.
A jilt is one thing, a turn down is fine.
But I lost who told me she was mine.
I should've doted more and been more attentive.
You fell in love with me because I was romantic.
So where did I fail you and how can I improve?
I just want to make you happy,
I just want to show you.
There was no need to quit the way that you did.
We could have taken a break,
you could have hibernated, hid.
But it's fine you chose the way you did.
Now you're the punchline of my dark jokes.
"Oh, I'm sorry, no, I only kid."
Repeating myself like I've forgotten what I even said.
Loving is hard when you've never felt it.
But it's harder than that when you feel it and lost it like I did.
Do you think you can forgive me?
I don't know if promises will be kept forever.
poorly written poem about an anniversary i hate to be alive for and the two years before where my life peaked

six years is much too many,
but still i'm here
sadly
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
The sunny time's no old news
She is doing the walking in her
instant replay just pray for her
The Instant "Karma Shoes"

Any or too many Travelers' Advice
       ---    ....   _   _gone.. down
You set your own sunset like a price

A lovely lady bringing out
Her sunset went lower down her
body waves
What's inside us that craves?
It's time for you to figure out
her clues

Like he's the detective

A mind is a terrible thing to waste
Being selective pickier
The colors of the sunset change tricky
Burning heart love can be massive
What lines ahead of both of them
The crimes build like a guild

To run or to paint a lovely stay put
Eyes move the sunset
Like a crystal rock shield
Medieval love don't move
Changes the sun yellow yield
The women so beautiful
as they are to hold
  The King-set the chair or cheer
drinking
International  lip to lip he gets
The waitress jumps in an instant
Him or the hugs of bears or  beers

In her honor the Tapestry
What an artistry pink reds
burnt orange
The Venus of Dynasty

Instant Karma thinks he's
the Genious that prodigy
It will get you in your
boxers inside
Like a top student of biology
Like she's the
instant pudding smooth
To mix movie buff
The network like a NetFlix
She had another brainstorm
That's another flavor
puddling to fix
What are you waiting for?
What a gentleman opening
up her door
The Business workers, metals of hearts
Like steel robotic digging for metal heart
the undertakers tearing words apart
The true pledge leaders and
pitter scatter
heartbreakers
Was better watching the
Dog breeders your watch
Something changed at midnight
Cinderella without her clock

Who are the dreamers waiting for there love the sunset
It hot you don't get it yet? You need to cool off

The chocolate to die for the vanilla we cry for
In an instant, he opens her most dangerous door
Watch your heels clicking time bomb floor

You decide the bet never the ring box set
Lord of the rings we are never ready
at the same time near the sunset

The Dragon Lady like a picnic of flies
Vanilla sky

Dinner at eight Jean Harlow
How did she get into the picture
Don't ask why?

Just mellow transcend the prime
picture yellow
Like wings, you smile the butterfly
Your steps will get you just realize

In his Gucci shoes in the sandals
That sunflower hits her every hour
The instant smile resort
Be a sport, the sunset goes down
Can we change someone's heart
Another bone to throw dog watchers
X-Box you're moving to watch your
weight watchers
Your sunset all blood sweat and
tears beard trimming

The Dalmatian keeps taking your spots

How many times to be outfoxed
That sunset will be my last lick shot
Another heart to repair
Have dignity it's hard to work miracles
Don't fall for Autumn
when its the summertime

Her pink blush you heard it through
the grapevine wine
I heard her through the grapevine
How many times did she want him to be mine?

Sweet Caroline loves her lemonade
Flowers at her stand how lovely
Adds character like a big fun parade
They are  growing how her brain works
losing hope
The trees wake you up the color's alive

She's blooming innocent
until we meet again my sunset after 5
  The first time so instantly I saw her face
Those instant messages you need to feel
to regain consciousness your
skin of a  baby seal

She's the cloud passing her
whip cream delicious
But you have been whiplashed
Love should be clean something
cruel leads to mean

Seeing the change to have perished
The sunset disappears when my love
grows deeper it moves to vanish

But someone plays with your head
like a game *Instant Karma

No time for daydreaming
Like a bundle of cute Pomskies
Part huskies and Pomeranians
The sunset is coming
In the strangest place
You've been backhanded
the card game kingdom

Like a demonic joke
Or going broke life is a
comic book Fandom
I phone ring every day
in June

But your not ready its way too soon
Another instant Karma I Tunes
Miss Apple Jubilee so materialistic
you had me
The tapestry box
Poems of letters paradox
Who is truly the go-getter
Someone is springing like a
change of season
The four seasons love liaisons
For the right reasons
Like a new renovation
Internationally speaking
the whole entire
Sunset lips look divine waiting wet
Please don't dampen her spirit
To Remember September to relive it

The Morning glory Sapphire

Her energy got riveting so cheek razzled
Like the magician lost his love facts
Instant Zazzle Red Riding hood
Looking down going to Grandmas house
But down and out like the sunset of the Gods

How the sunset keeps coming love is more puzzling?*

This is a small figment of your imagination
A small town is divided like division
But the huge love
Came with the Divination
Ruled by the bark and paws mission
Something got caught
Bone to pick near her sunset
They left the love was too much
The camera wasn't set up

The love Men they ran with the box set
of boxers and ruff with
mans best friend their boxer bark
Their home is their bark
Instant Karma this is in our heads, not the wedding bells that are to ring  just relax I don't bite perhaps a French croissant all night something is always crispy and flaky but what about dreamy or to top things off Sunset is not set into your ******* just racing over something this not real
Ah, summer!
Summertime is ever my favourite, indeed;
with charms t'at are inadequate,
with promises not rich enough,
for my love is even wealthier t'an which!
Oh! But still, a summer garden
is a warming delight to my sights;
it is a living soul to me,
it pats my shoulder and smiles at me,
it sings to me and write me-
a delicate night-time lullaby!
Ah, so sweet and enigmatic
is our beloved summertime,
as it for ever always is;
With leaves t'at canst talk,
flowers t'at canst think,
and clever blossoms
that canst charm
and sway about so prettily
Back and forth,
Beneath and behind me;
O, and perhaps lips
t'at canst promise
Some surge of happiness;
Yes, happiness-vacant happiness,
Happiness t'at is our abode,
and for us only-to dwell in;
Though whose self is still beyond thought
and canst be delicately seen
only from a thousand miles away
from 'ere; o, dear happiness!
Wherefore be thou-come 'ere!
Come 'ere-o, light of my dim light,
fire of my shy fire!
Come 'ere, o dearest!
Flirt with and tease me;
touch and taunt me;
'Till I am but immersed
in thy evil charm, thy evil charm;
Whilst soaked in thy greedy eyes,
Consummate and make me whole,
delude and corrupt me,
but make me forget not
my very own intimate voice;
With a love that I want to kiss,
within a glory I should rejoice.
Stab and ****** me!
Make things blissful a tragedy;
but a glossy tragedy-as thy soul may be;
And be I, the happiest ghost in th' world;
roses are my tongue, lilies are my mouth;
cherries my breath, berries my death;
But on top of all, my dear,
Their blooms my satiation,
Frivolous, ye' stupendous as it is,
Ah, my salvation, health, and incarnation!
And comest to me once more;
Love me and care for me
Like never before;
just like I hath cared and be cared for,
make my feelings sure,
find a cure to my foul longing,
And be my sole angel of bliss
Like when I am lost again today;
Tend to me with thy singing so sweet-
As when I love; as I hath ever dreamed.
Bails B Jun 2014
The night sky lights up in a colourful array of
blues, reds, yellows, greens.
Spectators ooo and aaah over the display.
Loud bangs makes the little children flinch and squeal in delight.

Making memories with friends and family on these warm nights.
Plenty of food in the coolers and the kitchen to share
Board games on the table and lawn games on the grass to play.
Fireflies twinkling and dancing on the front lawn at twilight.

Campfires red and orange flicker softly in the dark,
warming the coldest of feet those nights.
Stories are passed on from generation to generation,
and silly campfire tunes are sung and danced.

It's summer time; ice pops to be eaten,
laughs to be exclaimed, photos to be taken,
friendships to be formed, and all-nighters to be pulled.
It's summertime, yes, *it's summertime.
Viewtifulink Jul 2014
to her thighs....
my taste buds
so eager to say hi,
if I was asked to describe
I'd say just look
outside,   Around the
time... when the moon
was destined to hide and
air conditioners kidnapped
the space windows and their
sills used to collide

While i strive, tongue
kicks a lure for her
sweet surprise.... That
collapse in time mimics
the anticipation of a
hydrant's refreshing
jolt when it's hot outside

her satisfactions
introduction feeds me
the thrill of that last
day of school during
dismissal time, freedom
for what seems like forever
it's two month limit always
fled past your mind

When she divides
and reveals the treasures
her structure was built
to hide... My taste buds
reunite with the flavors
of summertime

taste like summertime

© 2014 viewtifulink
Marieta Maglas Mar 2013
It's summertime. The saxophone  jazz
sounds are pirouettetting the waves
to find their own balance. It's a mauve

inner dance in almost everything around.
More exactly, the melodious movable
sounds become soundable movement

needing a reverberation time to dissipate  
the energy. The movement releases its  own
purity to become simple fecundity. The pulsed

sound waves are also old memories  lost in the
natural green. The saxophone  looks  much
more like a Tahitian prince dancing his love

on the sand. The singing mauve sea waves
have a sadness taste at sunset. The last one
is a watery mermaid and he embraces her

while searching the high. The sounds need
touch and life. They need to dematerialize
and to disappear into the universe. The

saxophone  remains a solitaire keeping
safe his evanescent  hermetic equilibrium.
Ellis Currer Oct 2014
I do not know how long this summertime will last
or for how long these roses will bloom.
I do not know for how long we
can put off the winter of our lives.
I do not know the answers to any of these questions.
All I know is that with you by my side
I will weather through these withering winds
and travel down the path of demise.

How long can we battle the darkness of winter?
With my soul strengthened by yours,
forever my Darling. I will fight
and fight the recessing sun  
and still kiss every wrinkle  
and curve of this wilting rose.
As our blood turns to ice,
I will fight and toil.
I will face winter and its wrath
to keep you here with me.
As summertime morphs into winter
I will fight so our souls will combine and
transcend this material world,
so that when winter comes
I face it with you.
Ella Fields May 2013
Lazy Waves
Sunny Dazes
The Sight Of You Still Amazes--
God, You're Amazing.
You're Crazy,
You Big Baby,
Those Nights Are Hazy
Of Snow Cones
And Karate Kid
And Sitting On Your Roof Alone
Hide And Go Seek In The Dark
Tagging Your Car While You Were With The Boys
Talking And Crying For Hours With The Car On Park
But That's What It's All About,
It's Where We Go
Or What We Do,
Whether We're Quiet Or Loud
It's About How Much Love We Have
Or How Many Times We Fight
Count All The Laughs
And The Sleepless Summertime Nights
Cause In The End,
When This Is All Said And Done
And We're No Longer Lovers, No Longer Friends,
And Winter Comes,
That's All I'll Have To Remember You By,
All Those Summertime Nights.
Marian Jul 2014
Summertime awakens the redolent flowers

It brings to life again the day

Rebirth of the stars

Raindrops become my healing balm

And thunder my elixir

Demure fawns gallop gracefully

Across the woodland’s fallen trees

And the sky is arrayed

In cloaks of fragrant mist

The forest’s familiar scent of petrichor

Fills the moss laden air

And hidden periwinkles glisten with dewdrops

Sweet summertime has returned once more

Her usual fugacious beauty

*~Marian~
Kind of got carried away with some big words here!!! ~~~~<3
Hope you enjoy it anyway! ~~~~<3 :)
NeroameeAlucard Aug 2016
It's the Twilight of my favorite season
Summertime is slowly coming to a close
There are so many things left to discover and open
Like, that bedroom over there and possibly your clothes
Is it that obvious how ravenous I am
For your heavenly body?
I swear I'm an alcoholic for your sweet nether regions and you're a large bottle of bacardi

It's crazy how naughty My thoughts are of you I swear I'm a hormonal animal because of what I want to do to you...
So summertime is coming to a close, and that does **** hard
But the hot fun that we could have together... that my dear has yet to start...
******
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
A-Start the best part*
A-Healthy heart breakfast

Not so fast slow down of prayers
Just come and arrive
Sheer whispering Dress Aline
shapes of water are mine

The Green Gables sweeter lime
The twins whisper in doubles
The pink fur Hello Kitty
My best of the cattle in couples
Meet her friend the Furry Sable

The loud whisperers stealing hearts
Of sleepwalkers
They call her the wanderer
He whispers and she's the keynotes
"Her Real Estate' A-Steal for her estate diaries

But their children love to whisper

The crayons Highlights of the wonderland
Building more Ancient dreams

Stealing the grapes of whisper escapes
Like  A-dream planted to remain
A steal cannot take that away
Even if it's you're last meal

Walking with the one you love for miles
Come on baby light my fire
Whispering Morrison door to save
A dream to give the world peace
Like wishing well pulling the rope

Whisper could that be your prayer of hope?*
The guitar the invisible impossible star
And he steals another dream  
Whispering shadows pass like clouds

Australian Malamutes doing the salute *

Got strung along
And lost you

*A-STEAL for an eye for an eye
     HEART
  just give a life

Whispering over again wasn't
the way to play smart
Losing my voice
How to trust someone's words
So hard like the concrete
The abundance of food
Ala carte or Dente

A-Steal dream putting it
into your mind

Whispering Falltime Women in her
Acorn-SHOE* prime time
Walk-in closet Godly light
Like the Viking of swords
Knight

Where to go who will ever know
Not a pin drop of a slight whisper
Clasping or gasping for air
The Holy Water was left

For the delicate minds
of the deer
That light talk of resistance
Lips of acceptance

With her silken pillows
Tied their dreams
Sopping wet rain
The French soothing whispering rainfalls
Wearing her trenchcoat
Whispering her sugar words
He could find me peace
to my river
Like two peas in a pod to float
A Steal how love can tweed his coat
My difference is hearts like "
Owl Hoot"
Just feel you know what's real
Often told the end is truly the taste
to breathe
Even if you are deep inside her dream
To justify her means
Like the Queen to the Diplomat
The highest authority

You almost felt only your whisper the priority
The Aristocrat cleaning up your
bad dreams
*High beams a spoiled love
Like a *** for the Tat

Not the fairytale Dr. Seuss
Cat in the Hat- or the desperation
of one last whisper
Up the sunrise eyes are speechless
The Astral my Goddess
You are the creature of the night
Shining the light never ending the battle night

Smells of baked cake through your nostrils
Rocky mountains of Colorado dreamy caves

Hearing  sounds but living in the distance
The romance blinded like a ghost
winning out the odds

The Even lovers like the Gods whisper
Canadian waterfall talking love deeper

Doing Pilates what *Yogalates loving the
yodeling dreaming watching him the diver
Going dirt biking just love the dreamy feel of hiking

"Hearing Attention ****** in the Summertime"

All blue eyes what a dreamer
The good Earthly brown so worthy
The Cafe Eyes

A steal dream like a spilled milk
Our cat "Jade Eyes" did I hear you
correctly an heir?


Summer the Kings speech air
The assembly line
Good and the bad memories
The years getting away with ******
The law of attraction what a steal in order

Erasing someone's scent
A- million stars you found your truth
Looking outside of your dream
Was your *Godly
tent
Whispering has many advantages and its amazing to see someone in your dream like your lover the mountains hiking or dirt biking and the change of seasons to *******
Kiana Lynn Jun 2015
Summertime is sweet,
with memories of you sweeping me off my feet.
Sun washing over my face,
hands clasped together at dinner as we said grace.
Those splash wars with salty water,
cooled us down during a summer that couldn’t be hotter.
Summer dresses, stolen kisses,
shooting stars and a bunch of wishes.
We were invincible, up all night,
watching the sun come up was a beautiful sight.
Laughter to the point of tears,
I’ll remember these moments for years.
Those minutes we were stuck on the Ferris-wheel,
your hands tickled me till I surrendered in squeals.
Fireworks that lit up the sky,
my heart feeling like it could fly.
We were so in love, so happy in time
playing carnival games till all we had was a dime.
Heaven and earth seemed in line,
because you were finally mine.
We found something so beautiful and unique,
something others desperately seek.
So summertime is sweet,
with memories of you sweeping me off my feet.
jane taylor Jun 2016
how i have ached to walk amongst the evergreens
encased by dazzling quaking aspen
in my rocky mountain home

i yearn to fall again while skiing
and catch a wisp of icy sky blue
snow powder crystals
on my tongue
******* feelings
rise and fall
as they melt
and disappear

i long to breathe in your scent
sitting on the peak of wooded ridges
amidst slate colored boulders
sea salt combined with cinnamon
laced with wildflowers
crisply filling my lungs

i hunger to once again
behold again your red rock formations
creating tender hollows
through which timid coral sunsets peer

i crave hiking at dusk
into your jagged emerald forests
and sit wistfully mid the columbine
while darkened sunflowers juxtapose
against the jet black emptiness
enticing the stars
to etch enchanting paintings
on inky cobalt skies

hankering to be at the sundance film festival
coyly peeking into restaurants
covertly spying on the movie stars
on old park city main

itching to experience waiting patiently
for a moose to cross the street
its majesty splashing gingerly
sending chills throughout the galaxy
magnificence abounds

i pine to have memories gently cradle me
like worn out patchwork quilts
warmed by incandescent fires
wrapping me in soft colored canvas
the past craving transformation
by an echo that’s now dim

faintly crying out for
an old familiar artist’s brush
that still lingers
to snag times gone by
and paint the future in

amalgamating the antiquated
with the present
luring in
my destiny

i dream to don my fringed leather jacket
and hear my cowboy boots
fiercely clicking
against charcoal shadowed midnight sidewalks
while i watch the harvest moon

i’m parched too see your autumn chestnut leaves
against the bloodshot auburn sky
as cardinal hues give way to glistening winter
melding into tender spring

your summertime birthing
tingles down my spine
as chartreus aspen leaves
morph to golden bisque
enticing ute country
to blow in
copper colored indian summers
with cherry fragrant wind

yutaahih you were called
by the apaches
their historic essence
somehow ingrained within
my every cell
thirsty to lie enveloped
like a long lost lover
in your rugged western terrain

once having left your presence
i return to you now
my heart flutters
with wild anticipation
to see your precious face again
utah

©2016janetaylor
after a 5 year absence, we are returning to utah at the end of this month
Akela Santana Oct 2014
Take me back to June 12th, the day we first hung out together, drinking beers and ***** shots, singing karaoke to Green Day, Michael Jackson and the out of place Lady Gaga at our favorite bar called Villains.

Take me back to all those days we'd hang out at Milk Coffee Bar and laugh at horrible things like the Columbine Shootings or the 9/11 attacks and *** smokes off our mutual friend Jean; drinking beers and listening to horrible local indie bands play their horrible, airplane sound/ white noise, indie music.

Take me back to "the perfect 90's couple".

Take me back to the first time I kissed you by accident, causing the caterpillars in my stomach to induce metamorphosis, letting the butterflies to spread their wings for the first time.

Take me back to the first time we slept together, with no ***. You caressing my back, me slipping into a peaceful slumber to the sound of your heart beating, a sound I've never heard before.

Take me back to July 10th, the day we told each other we liked the other and I talked you into asking me out.

Take me back to the time you said I was worth it.

Take me back to the nights we'd stay up till 4 in the morning talking about nothing in particular or talking about everything and anything that came into our heads.

Take me back to the day we were on my front porch and I said "I love you, you're funny" and you replied "I love you too".

Take me back to the first time we had ***, making love, and you made fun of my blushing and called it cute.

Take me back to your birthday party I can barely remember because I drank so much and you ended up taking care of me and checking my pulse to make sure I was okay.

Take me back to our first official date at Bubi's where I dressed up for you for the first time and was so nervous I could've ****** myself.

Take me back to the talks we would have about moving in together, or when I was sad that you didn't want kids and I did so you said "I might hate children but I would consider having children with you".

Take me back to the Loop where I showed you I could be stupid and dance like a fool.

Take me back to the Cards Against Humanity game where I showed you I can be a bad *** girl and make you laugh at my dumbassery.

Take me back to Korey's end off summer party where I got to watch you fail at the NHL game and record your cute silliness  when you actually scored.

Take me back to when we started to drift apart because you had to go back to University to start the semester, where I should've suggested staying over for weekends even if you had to study.

Take me back to when I got depressed and said "I have no reason to live" and made you think you weren't good enough for me to stay, even though that was far from the truth. You were my only reason.

Take me back to when you needed some space and time to think.

Don't take me back to when you broke up with me.

Take me back to when you wanted to give it another shot.

But don't take me back to when you decided to break up with me again.

**It's been years since then, and all I can say is that, I loved you. I'm glad we could've dated, cause you showed me what love was, even though we didn't last, and for that I am grateful. Thank you, Nektarios.
Something I had to write. This Is about my ex boyfriend Nick.

I just want him to be happy......
Moriah Jean Feb 2011
The sky is pink with the sunset and,
The clouds look like cotton candy.
I want to eat popcorn at carnivals,
or spend all day by riverbanks soaking up the atmosphere.
The air is tinged with sun tan lotion, freshly mowed grass and,
the laughter of children playing in puddles
left over from afternoon showers.
The breeze is thick and warm, flowing through the skirts of lovers
And kissing bare shoulders.
Daisies and dandelions tilt their faces towards the sun,
Proudly pretending they each deserve to be picked and
braided into chains, adorning necks and hair.
Little girls dressed in sunshine
dance in the evening glow, as
little boys catch fireflies in an attempt to captivate and impress.
I hold my breath as the sun dips below the horizon and,
sets the sky on fire one last time.
I could swear time stops
As everything transforms into silhouettes of what they were.
The clouds give way to a million stars, that still can't shine
as bright as your eyes.
The whole world tucks itself away, but not us.
We lounge in the cool grass and breathe in the moment when
all I can feel is your hand in mine, and
the earth still coming alive with summertime.
© February 2011 Moriah Jean

For a contest about seasons. =)
Kia Apr 2014
open road
shining sun
a glorified affair

grass so green
skin so tan
hands running through hair

wind whispering
kissing, tickling
as they start to become bare

fear so strong
love so wrong?
far from despair
How strange to greet, this frosty morn,
In graceful counterfeit of flower,
These children of the meadows, born
Of sunshine and of showers!

How well the conscious wood retains
The pictures of its flower-sown home,
The lights and shades, the purple stains,
And golden hues of bloom!

It was a happy thought to bring
To the dark season's frost and rime
This painted memory of spring,
This dream of summertime.

Our hearts are lighter for its sake,
Our fancy's age renews its youth,
And dim-remembered fictions take
The guise of present truth.

A wizard of the Merrimac,--
So old ancestral legends say,--
Could call green leaf and blossom back
To frosted stem and spray.

The dry logs of the cottage wall,
Beneath his touch, put out their leaves;
The clay-bound swallow, at his call,
Played round the icy eaves.

The settler saw his oaken flail
Take bud, and bloom before his eyes;
From frozen pools he saw the pale
Sweet summer lilies rise.

To their old homes, by man profaned
Came the sad dryads, exiled long,
And through their leafy tongues complained
Of household use and wrong.

The beechen platter sprouted wild,
The pipkin wore its old-time green,
The cradle o'er the sleeping child
Became a leafy screen.

Haply our gentle friend hath met,
While wandering in her sylvan quest,
Haunting his native woodlands yet,
That Druid of the West;

And while the dew on leaf and flower
Glistened in the moonlight clear and still,
Learned the dusk wizard's spell of power,
And caught his trick of skill.

But welcome, be it new or old,
The gift which makes the day more bright,
And paints, upon the ground of cold
And darkness, warmth and light!

Without is neither gold nor green;
Within, for birds, the birch-logs sing;
Yet, summer-like, we sit between
The autumn and the spring.

The one, with bridal blush of rose,
And sweetest breath of woodland balm,
And one whose matron lips unclose
In smiles of saintly calm.

Fill soft and deep, O winter snow!
The sweet azalea's oaken dells,
And hide the banks where roses blow
And swing the azure bells!

O'erlay the amber violet's leaves,
The purple aster's brookside home,
Guard all the flowers her pencil gives
A live beyond their bloom.

And she, when spring comes round again,
By greening ***** and singing flood
Shall wander, seeking, not in vain
Her darlings of the wood.
ADS Mar 2017
Playing in the the summertime air
Placed our minds at ease
While our imaginations made a scene
Swinging in the breezy
Smiling and laughing so gleefully
Oh the silly games we use to play
Hide and seek until we couldn't see
Scrapped knees and bee stings
Made me sing mom please help me

Sitting outside in the summertime air
Makes me my mind uneasy
While my imagination screams please
Let me see my computer screen
Anxious to see my apps dance so playfully
I hold back my tears so painfully
I can't see why my parents hate me
They don't buy me anything
No matter how much I scream help me
The other day I was at the doctors and I saw this child who couldn't be five years old crying because his iPad couldn't connect to the internet. Made me think about how great my childhood was compared to what most kids have nowadays.
Gossamer Dec 2013
Scorching sand covering my toes
Salty air in the wind that blows
The land and water harmonize ;
You're sublime, sweet summertime.

The ocean waves are in my hair,
And there are people everywhere.
This whole place is a perfect rhyme;
You're so sublime, sweet summertime

Sunset to sunrise, I am awed;
I cannot find a single flaw.
The stars glow brighter every night;
You're so sublime, sweet summertime.

She sells seashells by the sea shore
Returns each year, for she needs more
Of the grand, ever-changing skies;
You're so sublime, sweet summertime.
Cori MacNaughton Aug 2015
Here is the inimitable Jeff Buckley's poem, "My New Year's Eve Prayer," which he performed live at Sin-é in Manhattan, NYC, in 1996.


"You, my love, are allowed to forget
about the Christmas you just spent stressed out in your parents' house.

You, my love, are allowed to shed the weight
of all the years before,
like bad disco clothes.
Save them for a night of dancing ****** with your lover.

You, my love, are allowed to let yourself drown
every night in bottomless wild and naked symbolic dreams.

You, my love, in sleep can unlock your youth
and your most terrifying magic;
and dreaming is for the courageous.

You, my love, are allowed to grab my guitar
and sing me idiot love songs
if you've lost your ability to speak.
Keep it down to two minutes.

You, my love, are allowed to rot and to die
and to live again,
more alive and incandescent than before.

You, my love, are allowed to beat the **** out of your television,
choke it's thoughts and corrupt its mind.
****! ****! ****! **** the *******
before the song of zombiefied pain
and panic and malaise
and it's narrow right-winged vision
and it's cheap commercial gang ****
becomes the white noise of the world.

Turn about is fair play.

You, my love, are allowed to forgive and love your television.

You, my love, are allowed to speak in kisses
to those around you
and those up in heaven.

You, my love, are allowed to show your babies
how to dance full bodied,
starry eyed, audacious, supernatural and glorified.

You, my love, are allowed to **** in every single endeavor.

You, my love, are allowed to be soaked like a lovers' blanket
in the New York summertime
with the wonder of your own special gift.

You, my love, are allowed to receive praise.

You, my love, are allowed to have time.

You, my love, are allowed to understand.

You, my love, are allowed to love.

Woman, disobey,
when little men believe;

You, my love, are Rebellion."
For Hello Poetry user "Jeff Buckley":

While I agree that musician Jeff Buckley's lyrics are poetic, and often reach the level of true poetry, here is one of his actual poems, never set nor intended to be set to music.  

It is a ****** good poem,  touching on a number of subjects near and dear to my heart, which strongly resonates with me.

For the record, I have come only recently to the music of Jeff Buckley, within the past year, through my wonderful and musically adept husband Marek.  Buckley's music has moved me far more than that of most other singer/songwriters, save only for Steven Wilson, Mariusz Duda and Nick Drake.  He and I shared a lot of influences in common, from old 1920s blues and jazz, to pop standards, French music, classical and early British rock and progressive rock.  His first and only studio album released during his lifetime, "Grace," is not to be missed.

Sadly, he drowned at the age of 30, accidentally or otherwise, robbing us all of his incredible gift.  Not only was he an amazing songwriter, but a fine guitarist and, most of all, an incredible vocalist.  He had not only an amazing vocal range, but as mentioned a widely divergent source of influences, lending to some truly transcendent music and lyrics.  

RIP Jeff Buckley.  You are sorely missed.

For those interested in seeing his performance of the poem, which shows what a humble guy he was, you can find it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=duoujUI--Mo
Ryan Jakes May 2014
Dog lies baskin'
music blastin'
barbecue cookin'
beer chillin'
friends laughin'
kids playin'
Sitting on my sweet ***
procrastinatin'
no scarf, no coat
no socks, no shoes
These are the cures for the summertime blues.
Party at mine BYOB :-)
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
The Straw Furniture (Summertime and the Living is Easy)

The ancient straw furniture, yellow-white, cracked,
My boon companions from the Sun Room where I write,
Give me a welcome back embrace and purposely snag my sweater,
Crackling a laugh and tween boisterous gasps, all wish me a hearty
Welcome back ancient mariner, to your cottage
On the bluff overlooking Peconic Bay.

The deck furniture exhumed from the garage,
Accompanied by a parade, nay a slew,
Of spiders and insects waving Adieu to their winter palace
Climb aboard to get a better view of their new deck digs,
And of me, the anti-hero of their grandparent's tales.

I go down to the basement.
Chagrined,
I come back up the twisty stairs
which designed, aimed to maim,
vowing never to return.

The refrigerator says do you like modern art?
Mold of multifarious colors, heavenly hues worthy of the
Museum of Modern Art,
I bequeath to you freely, no charge!

The clean laundry left out from last summer,
Looks so forlorn, asks politely,
Make me gone, wash away the winter's dusty grime,
Besides, traces of aged balsamic suntan lotion, still inhabit.

The golf clubs say nice meeting you,
Tho we think we met you once before,
Five or eight years or even never-years ago, was it not?

My obedient servants?
No, my friends, my helpers, my guides,
For in their sheltering embrace, in this holy place,
Inspiration floods, overcomes me and I am compelled alive,
Poet renewed, ****** why am I crying...


May 26th
10:15 AM
Shelter Island
In the Sun Room, weeping.
Ann Voge Mar 2014
I see what she writes about you.
She writes about your
unforgettable blue eyes,
your unforgettable  lips,
and your unforgettable smile.
She loves you still, I can tell.
I only wish she knew.
all the lies you fed her.
Because when I asked about
the summertime girl,
the first thing you said was
"I never loved her."
with no lie or hesitation behind your statement.
So now my heart will forever ache for
the summertime girl.
because she still writes about a love
she thought to be
real.
-4 c.
Where Shelter May 2023
<!>

Four Irises tall & gallant, looking though
slighted worn out, a tad bedraggled
they are springtime survivor stragglers
of the Great Spring Weather Battle.

living in an open trench, battle conditions,
wind-whipped by constant strong breezes,
raked by intermittent machine gun rain,
familiar weapons of the “handover” season

loyal guardians of their pinpoint position,
remaining on duty, standing at attention,
dignified amidst the serene, nearly summer, now,
accepting quietude & gratitude of surround soundings

arrow-straight, in dress uniforms of royally purple,
four lead a cohort of unbloomed green fellows,
protecting their charge, an ancient marker of time,
rusted-green bronze sundial, symbol of continuity

these four, boon companions to human and animal,
shall persist long after I cease to dabble in this art,
they greet their admirers in full regalia, every year,
long, long may they live, die and be yet reborn!

here, in place, when we arrived four decades ago, a tiny forever,
changelings heading a processional of the summer season,
greeting all with a simple story of constance of change, of beauty,
leading our Summertime Commencement Exercises

May 26 ~ 27, 2023
message me if you would like to see photos of the source
Summertime
Hot days
Warm nights
No pain 'cause it numbs
But opposes frostbite
I become numb from the sun
The salt
The sea
As the summer comes around
I bring back the old me
But I'll bring back the old you
If you give me one chance
One wave
One smile
One look
One glance
One hit from my pipe
One sip from my bottle
Relax, live the moment
Always follow that motto
Cyril Blythe Nov 2012
Janie pushes the metal book cart back into its parking space in the Document Delivery Department of the St. Louis Public Library and hangs the last sticky note for October 30, 2012 on the wall by the head of the department’s closed door. She retightens her brown scarf under her chin, tucking the wispy hairs above her ears back into hiding. Having your hair begin to prematurely gray as a teenager has dramatic effects on a person. Her mother wore scarves around her wrists when Janie was growing up and when Janie begin to wear scarves to conceal her salt-and-pepper hair, her mother just smiled. The clock hanging on the wall above the children’s section reads 11:28pm.
Two more minutes.
She reorganized the pens and books on her desk and set the box reading NOTES onto the right corner or her desk with three blue pens and a stack of note cards. Her coworkers learned fast that Janie does not like to talk. She does not like eye contact. She loves the silence, and never ever to ask her about her hair. Her manager gave her the NOTES box after about a month of horrible miscommunication and everyday it fills with requests for books or tasks that Janie has to complete. She completes the tasks one by one, alone, in her back office in the Reference Department and hangs the completed sticky notes on the wall by her manager’s door. She works the night shift and locks the library up every night. When she’s alone she can talk out loud to herself and those are the only voices she cares to hear.
“Goodnight, books. Good night, rooms.” Janie shut the heavy wooden door to the library, placed the color-coded keys in the front right pocket of her jacket, and began her walk to the bus stop one corner away. She avoids the main road, taking her first right onto a side street that she knows would spit her out right beside the bus stop.
“Goodnight Taco Bell Sign. Goodnight Rite-Aide. Goodnight Westside Apartments. Goodnight Jack-o-Lantern smile.” She stopped in the middle of the alley and peered up at the Jack-o-Lantern grinning down at her from the third story window above. “Mother wouldn’t’ve liked your smirk, Jack. She would’ve slapped that **** right off your face.” Janie, satisfied the pumpkin was put in its rightful place, smiled as she trotted on.
“Mother carved smiles into her arms and that’s why Daddy left, it is, it is.” She kicked at a crushed Mountain Dew can as she remembered that night from years ago.

“Mommy?” Janie pushed opened the door to her mother’s bedroom and saw the moving-boxes torn open and all their contents scattered across the floor. She tiptoed through piles of scarves and silverware and corkscrews until she reached the bathroom in her mom’s room.
“Come to us like rain, oh lord, come and stay and sting a while more, oh lord…” her mother’s voice was slipping off the tiled bathroom walls. Janie pushed open the door and saw the blood for the first time pouring from her mother’s wrist. Her mother was naked and perched on the bathroom sink, singing to a red razor blade.
“Mommy?”
“GET OUT!” Her mother jumped from the counter and perched on all fours on the floor. She began to growl and speak in a voice too deep to be coming from her own throat.
“Mommy! It’s Janie!” She began to cry as her mother, still naked and bleeding, twisted and writhed onto her back and began to crawl towards the door that Janie hid behind.


“Thirty-Three percent, dear. Just a thirty-three percent chance.” She shivered trying to clear the last memory of her mother with the words that all the shrinks had echoed to her over the years. “Schizophrenia is directly related to genetics, little is known about the type of Schizophrenia mother was diagnosed with except that it is definitely passed on genetically. But, there is only a thirty-three percent chance you could have it, dear. Thirty-three percent.” The sound of the bus stop ahead reminds her it is time to be silent again.
“Disorganized Schizophrenia.” She mouthed to herself as she stepped back out onto the busy street from her alleyway. She tightened her scarf and saw the bus pull into the pickup spot. She walked forward to the bus, again immersed in her self-imposed silence.
Stepping out of the February cold, Janie removes her wool scarf as the bus doors close behind her.
“Where to baby?” The driver smiles a sticky smile. Her nametag reads, “Shannon” and has a decaying Hello-Kitty sticker in the bottom left corner.
“The Clinton Street drop.” She hands the driver her $2.50 fare and avoids the woman’s questioning eyes. The night drivers are always more talkative, curious.
“Your ticket hon.” She tears Janie a ticket stub. “Everything is pretty dead this late, I’ll have you there in ten minutes top.”
Janie begins to shuffle towards the seats, ignoring the woman.
“You mind if I crank up the music?” The bus driver asks, purple fingernails scratching in her thick blonde hair. “I need to keep my eyes open and blood flowing and music is my fire of choice you know?”
“Sure.” Janie shrugs her bag onto her shoulder and walks on before the woman can say anything else.
“Route E-2, homebound.” Shannon’s voice crackles over the loudspeaker.
She shuffles down the bus towards her usual seat; second from the back right side.  Shannon starts the bus rolling before she reaches her seat and Janie can hear her singing along to “Summertime” by Janis Joplin. The bus floor, today, is sticky because of the morning rain. Two years of riding public transportation has taught Janie that staring at the floor as she walks to her seat is better than the risk of making eye contact. The bus is usually empty this late but if there ever happens to be anyone else on, it’s better not to converse. Safer that way.
She plops into her seat filling the indention that ghosts of past passengers left. The seat is still warm and Janie squirms around until the stranger heat is forgotten. She tightens her scarf and sighs. The brown pleather seatback in front of her is peeling towards the top. Janie leans forward and idly picks at the scab-like dangles of brown as she watches the sodden city canvas roll past her out the foggy window. As she picks, the hole grows. She twists and digs her unpainted nails into the seat until her hands feel wet, warm. Looking down, they are covered in blood and mud.
“What. The. Actual. ****.” she whispers, wiping her hands on her pants leg. She cautiously picks off another piece of pleather and a trickle of deep red begins to run from the seat back, clumps of mud now falling onto her knees. A puddle of blood and mire splatter down her legs and pool around her feet as she picks at the seat. Her white tights are definitely beyond saving now, so she digs faster until her thumbnail catches on something, bends back, and cracks. She gasps and withdraws her shaking hand, watching her own blood mix with the clotting muck in the seat, half of her thumbnail completely stripped off.
Looking around, all else seems normal. The driver is now muttering along to some banter by Kanye West, completely unaware of Janie’s predicament. She closes her eyes.
This is a dream, this is a dream, wake the **** up.
She opens her eyes to see the pool of filth around her feet trickling towards the front of the bus. Panic sets in with a whisper, They’re going to think it was you, your fault, you’ll be thrown in jail.
“But I didn’t do this.” She lashes out to herself. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”
Next stop, E-2. Shannon blares on the intercom.
“It’s just a dream, get your **** together, Janie.” She laughs at herself, manic.
Prove it! Her subconscious screams.
Convinced to end this moment she has to continue; Janie plunges her hand into the pleather grave one more time. Frantic and confused she laughs as she digs, spittle of muck splashing on her bus window.
Faster, faster, faster.
Deeper, deeper, deeper.
Realer, realer, real.
Wake up, now!
Then, as the bus slows, one last chuck of mud splatters to the floor and Janie sees a pink piece of her thumbnail stabbed into the white of a bone in the bottom of the seatback pit. Her white Ked’s were becoming so red they were almost black. She pulls her knees up to her chest and begins to rock back and forth. Clenching shut her eyes she begins to hum. Janie’s sweet soprano harmonizes with the buses deep droning purr, their wet melody interweaving with the driver’s alto and Lil Wayne’s screech made her feel dizzy as the bus turned right.
She take my money when I'm in need
Yeah she's a trifling friend indeed
Oh she's a gold digger way over town
That dig's on me
The bus slows to a stop and the bass is shaking. Janie is cold. She slowly peeks out of her right eye, expecting to be instantly immersed into the same dismal scene. The seatback is whole again. Releasing her knees, her feet fall back to the floor and her shaking fingers stroke the solid pleather.

“Ma’am? We’re at the Clinton Drop.”
Janie hurriedly picks up her bag and flees down the aisle to the bus doors.
“Everything alright, dear?” The bus driver asks, smiling.
“Fine, just fine.”
“You be safe out there tonight. The night is dark and only ghouls stroll the streets this late.”  Shannon laughed as Janie’s jaw dropped. “Happy Halloween, dear. It’s midnight, today is October 31st.”
The bus doors opened and a cold wind ****** the warm bot-air surrounding Janie into the streets. She begrudgingly followed, her mind spinning as she stepped onto the pavement. The doors slammed behind her and she turned to see Shannon pull out a tube of lipstick and smear it, red, across her cracked lips. Shannon made a duck-face in the mirror and reached down to crank up the music as loud as it would go. The bus exhaled and rolled forward, leaving Janie behind as it splashed through the potholes.
She surveys the surrounding midnight gloom and the street is quiet and dark. Even the stars are hidden behind swirling clouds. She begins to hum, hands in her pocket, and shuffle towards her apartment.
“Goodnight, stars. Goodnight, street.”
As she approaches her single-bedroom apartment, digging through her coat pocket for her keys, her thumb pulsates. She grasps the keys and pulls them out as she steps up to the apartment. Sticking the cold, silver key in the lock she looks down at her thumb and in the shadows of the porch sees half of the nail completely missing. She laughs as she pushes the door open to her bare apartment, light flooding out. Without any hesitation she closes the door behind her, sheds her clothes, and slips onto the mattress in the corner of the room gripping her thumb tight. She reaches out for the glass of milk on the floor beside her bed from the morning and it’s still cold. Nursing the milk, surrounded by blankets and solitude, she reminds herself,  “Only a thirty-three percent chance. A nice, small, round number. Small.”  
She sets down the empty glass and curls into the fetal position under the heavy blankets, pointer finger tracing circles on her thumb. Only when she has heated her blanket cocoon enough to feel safe does she remove her scarf and allow her thick white hair to fall around her face.
“Goodnight, room. Goodnight, mother,”
Just Maria Jul 2018
When I was a kid, Summer was so much fun
Playing and laughing all day in the sun
We would all gather for a game of tag
Or running a race to the finish flag

We would think of ways to try and stay cool
Like going for a swim at the public pool
Drinking tall glasses of cold lemonade
While sitting under a tree in the crisp shade

Riding our bikes up and down the street
Waiting for the ice cream truck for a popsicle treat
Staying up late with my best friend
Hoping that Summer would never end

I'm grown up now but it's just not the same
The loss of innocence is such a shame
It's been a long time but they're still  very clear
Those summertime memories that I hold so dear
Summer is here and it got me reminiscing about those fun days I spent as a kid playing  with my friends having so much fun during summer vacation once school was out
Mari Carrasco Nov 2017
summertime has never been my favorite.
the sun is too bright.
the days are too long.
public pools are *****.
and so are those men,
you know the ones.
the ones who you can't help but catch their eye.
the ones your fifteen year old mind had been conditioned to ignore.
the ones your twenty year old self has been told to smile for.
the strangers.
the fathers.
the uncles.
the family friends.
the men that made your mother tell you to close your legs for when you were ten because you were drawing attention.
the ones who shouldn't have been looking.

— The End —