Luna Sees

They sit on the roof drinking in the sight
Of diamonds twinkling in the witching hour
Alone at last on this shortest night
A blanket is beneath them, but heat scours

Tar and flowers scent this roof top tower
Fingers follow trails on skin damp with sweat
Where light cotton clothes have little power
And their slow loss causes no one to fret

Cool jazz plays on an old cassette
As the solstice weaves its most magic ways
Soft curls are set free from its shell barrette
As I softly smile on their loving plays

Throes of passion begins, they close their eyes
And breezes carry away their heightened sighs


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: Sun, Sand, Storms, and Celebrations: Summer Ekphrastic

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Though it’s not technically summer (yet), here in the northern hemisphere, we’ve already had a few scorching days. Merrill who is tending the pub tonight, entices us to pick from a selection of paintings evoking a variety styles and summer themes to write a summer ekphrastic poem inspired by what you see or feel.

I chose: “Tar Beach 2” Quilt 1990
by Faith Ringgold, American, born 1930. Produced at The Fabric Workshop and Museum, Philadelphia, founded 1977 Philadelphia Museum of Art. I can’t upload it, but you can see it here.

Before I even clicked on the link to view it, the title alone took me back to the days of rooftop barbeques, nighttime parties and things that happened in the late-late-late nights that only the moon sees.

Cannicular Days

The day’s just begun
And it’s a hot one
Step out with caution
An hour in the street
I’m already beat
Destined for exhaustion

Warmth first felt a blast
To winter’s cold past
But now no relief’s in sight
The summer heat rays
Cannicular Days*
That stifles most of the nights

Seeping from within
Crawling on my skin
Sweat leaving salt trails on me
Humidity’s bane
I pray for rain
Just for my own sanity

Yes, summer winds down
Seeing leaves turn brown
But from fall or this hot spell?
I live for the day
It all goes away
From these hot Dog Days of hell

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* Cannicular Days – Another term for the dog days of summer, coming from Canis – dog. The night skies proclaim dog days Orion’s dog – Canis Majoris, high in the sky with its brightest star being Sirius.

I learned a new (for me) poetry form! Welcome to the Alouette

The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:  Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7 Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b

At Tuesday’s Poetics Toni (Kanzensakura) challenged us to write about the infamous dog days of summer, which I missed posting by thismuch. But it’s now Open Link Night so I submit it here.

OpenLinkNight-mic

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics : Dog Days

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Open Link Night : Week 153

 

Stolen

.
.

The memory of it still lingers
Like sticky nectar on our fingers
Made the more so in summer’s heat
From the vain attempts to sluice
Our chins of honeyed peaches juice
But in a moment replete
Under the fading eye of Sol
We heed the thrill to shun control
The stolen kiss even more sweet

summer kiss

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And this is the Nove Otto

The Nove Otto poetry form  is a nine-lined poem with 8 syllables per line (isosyllabic). The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabccbddb

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight : Week 106

Summer in the City

Johnny pumps sprinkle water on the kids in its midst
A modern city’s version of a provincial mist
The drifting mist calls, but I somehow resist
Knowing wet clothes aren’t high on my boss’ list
From blocks away I can see the asphalt steam
Summer in the city makes me want to scream

Summer sun blazes down on the street
Feels like my soles are melting off my feet
It’s just 8 AM and I’m sweating from the heat
I’ve got a long day to go and already feeling beat
The humidity making it all the more extreme
Summer in the city makes me want to scream

Perfectly pressed suit of the business woman
Perfectly squashed in the subway sardine can
Hotter than the devil’s cooking pan
Even in the shade I’m catching a tan
Skin feels like jelly oozing through my seam
Summer in the city makes me want to scream

Sweat drips and I can feel the drop of each
Fall to places my fingers simply just can’t reach
Another working Jane, dodging taxi tires’ screech
Adamantly not losing my manners with my speech
The horns, the haze, the heat, it all seems
Summer in the city makes me want to scream

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dVerse Poets Pub | In Summer-y; Dog Days/Zucchini/Poetics

Seasons

Seasons



The first day of his smile

Banishing the chill of a late frost

Thus my love comes


On the dawn of the first day

of the first spring

To tend my garden, till the sacred soil

Where the silky folds of my flower blossoms

Gently, widely


As my summer sun also rises

When he gazes past the twin hills

To the valley beyond

Offering the sweetest of nectars

Thus my love comes


To reap that which was so deeply sown

On a harvest moon divine

The fruit of his labor stretched out

Across a starlit ravine

Call him yet home again

Thus my love comes


On the last sunset of the last day

of the last fall


Stoking the hearth warmth

And we rest

The seventh day of my smile

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Poetry Picnic Week 37: Peace…