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

Tar Beach

First weekend of summer, threw a backyard BBQ
And new friends pulled me from my chaise
As we tour the house they see an old pix or two
And that brought me back to my younger days

Music blasting on the box with a deafening boom
Ghetto burgers sizzling fast on the charcoal grill
The flowerpots bursting of color in full bloom
That darn Junie spiking punch with Papa’s specil swill

And standing over the fire is Aunt Nanette
Basting meats with her ‘secret’ glaze
The drifting scent alone breaks you out in a sweat
Wafting in the summer sun’s blaze

The older women chit-chat and gossip
With the old mens province being dominoes
All pretending their hooch is ‘justa sip’
Knowing they’re tanked from their head to their toes

Yeah, I remember back to the rooftop era days,
When ‘Right On!” was a normal part of speech
The poor folk’s version of Riviera ways,
Straight up the stairs, through the door to Tar Beach

Little boys trying too fast and hard to be men
Adamant in voicing their first mistake
At little girls trying too fast and hard to be women
‘Must be jelly girl ‘cause jam don’t shake’

And comes Nana Gains with a voice of stone
”You modern kids just like kids was way back when.
Just mind your manners, ‘cause you ain’t grown
And when you is, you best ta mind ‘em then!”

And wouldn’t think Nana could move so fast
‘Cause she look slower than a herd of snails
But ‘fore you know it the boys get bopped on their heads
And the girls get switches to their tails

Yeah, I remember the rooftop era days,
When kids learned what the old folk’s had to teach
The poor folk’s version of Riviera ways,
Straight up the stairs, through the door to Tar Beach

When the cool evening comes, the kids sent to bed
Breezes blow sails made of sheets hanging on the line
Slow music starts to wail, beneath the stars ahead
Bringing a certain calmness to the night so fine

Men and women start dancing real close together
Hooded eyes and silk-veiled words begin
The new heat having nothing to do with weather
With fingers sneaking touches of bare skin

Us older kids hanging just out of sight
Of our parents line of view
Many first kisses happened on such a night
And a few other things happened too

Yeah, I remember back to the rooftop era days,
Before locked doors kept them out of reach
The poor folk’s version of Riviera ways,
Straight up the stairs, through the door to Tar Beach

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week – Anniversary Week

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…