summer poem

[ccr]

The elderly pastor at the acton methodist church said years ago when asked,
what season do you like best? His response, with a smile, was I like the
change. I too like the change and am looking forward to fall.

Here is a summer poem I came up with a couple of days ago:

Sun coming up,
and the eastern sky is red.
Some may miss this beautiful site,
cause they are still in bed.

The sun gains momentum,
across the cloudless sky.
With normal temps,
reaching 102 for a high.

Crunchy sound of walking,
across the yard is made.
The deer are at the tank,
and the cows in the shade.

Cicada's are singing their song,
while the evening sun slips out of sight.
Now we can enjoy,
another cool summer night.

 

[Bigfoot]

Nice.

 

[Bright Raven]

Thanks for sharing. It is interesting to me that poetry is no longer a modern art. I think as nice as technology and the information age are, we have lost some of the finer skills and arts.

 

[haase]

We have lost more greater things than that, technology is a big part of what we lost.

 

[Jeanne - Simme Valley]

ccr - that was really good. Did you write it a couple days ago? Did I understand you right?

 

[ccr]

ccr - that was really good. Did you write it a couple days ago? Did I understand you right?

yes mam, i was looking out the kitchen window cooking breakfast while the sun was coming up and the eastern sky was red, later i walked across the yard and the grass is so dry and brown it made a crunchy sound when walking across it, then later in the afternoon there were several deer at the tank hanging out and the cows are always in the shade this time of year, and later when the sun finally sets there is a little reprieve from the sun. a margarita and a note pad and it was on paper. my sister liked it so i thought i would post here. hope that's alright.

 

[haase]

Nice job.

 

[Bigfoot]

Surprisingly, I enjoy poetry. Always have. As a kid, my family placed no value on education. They were the "I hate to read" and "I hated school" crowd. I remember anxiously awaiting library day at school. The poetry selection in my elementary school was sparse, Ms. Putman used to let me take an encyclopedia with me.

 

[bball]

I wonder if poetry was diminished when lyrics were added to music. Many songs, when music is removed, and the lyrics listed in print, resemble poetry.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.

Home
Home again
I like to be here
When I can

When I come home
Cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones
Beside the fire

Far away
Across the field
Tolling on the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spell

The above are lyrics written by a man in his late 20s(read the lyrics and let that soak in) and became a legendary song composed and performed by a legendary band. I expect someone will recognize the song immediately.
I enjoy poetry and lyrics because of the exceptional vehicle they provide for communicating.

 

[Bright Raven]

I wonder if poetry was diminished when lyrics were added to music. Many songs, when music is removed, and the lyrics listed in print, resemble poetry.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.

Home
Home again
I like to be here
When I can

When I come home
Cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones
Beside the fire

Far away
Across the field
Tolling on the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spell

The above are lyrics written by a man in his late 20s(read the lyrics and let that soak in) and became a legendary song composed and performed by a legendary band. I expect someone will recognize the song immediately.
I enjoy poetry and lyrics because of the exceptional vehicle they provide for communicating.

I enjoy the written word. It is one of the reasons that a forum like this is entertaining.

 

[TexasBred]

The elderly pastor at the acton methodist church said years ago when asked,
what season do you like best? His response, with a smile, was I like the
change. I too like the change and am looking forward to fall.

Here is a summer poem I came up with a couple of days ago:

Sun coming up,
and the eastern sky is red.
Some may miss this beautiful site,
cause they are still in bed.

The sun gains momentum,
across the cloudless sky.
With normal temps,
reaching 102 for a high.

Crunchy sound of walking,
across the yard is made.
The deer are at the tank,
and the cows in the shade.

Cicada's are singing their song,
while the evening sun slips out of sight.
Now we can enjoy,
another cool summer night.

Mercy ccr that sounds just like here. Good job.