Ode To The Eighth Month

 

MY Ode To The Eighth Month

Those first weeks of August,

Earth holds them quite dear;

Soft winds trace the meadows,

The sun’s chandelier

Stares down trodden pathways

Where sand-castles veer…

New sunflower seedlings;

Through rain, hearken cheer;

Cool drops splash pale petals,

Bright rays wipe things clear…

Blue waves gather seashells

As seagulls shed tears;

No matter the mind trap,

The road’s always here…

        If skies fade to russet

    Once autumn looms near,

    We’ll simply light candles

    And toast one more year !!

Poem written by L.P.-G. / 2026

JULY TURNS INTO AUGUST...and guess who's singing?

 

Their deafening cries

Often trouble our skies;

Such high-pitched,

Cacophonous wails!

I find their spent bodies:

[Discarded, dead armor],

Amongst dirty rags

And old pails…

Yet, tales wrung from nature

Make note of a feature

These creatures have

Harbored for years:

Their lives follow patterns

“Dog-day, or periodical”

Once known,

We can brace

Brittle ears!!

L.P.G. / 2026

JUST A ‘POEM’: WRITTEN FOR THE YOUNG CHILD

                                        I both KNOW and LOVE

 As a precious child,

You gathered rainbows:

‘Beautiful prisms

 In a curved pose’

 Perfecting their colors,

One by one,

You lifted their loveliness

 Back towards the sun…

Such arcuate grandeur,

Bejeweled by the moon;

Imbibes dappled star-light,

 Ignites threads of June.

I watch you swim softly

Through summer’s long stretch;

Moonbeams rouse fireflies,

But none could we catch…

Daydreams turn vapid,

Grasping tendrils of dusk;

We hear twilight’s last breath;

(It’s parting seems brusque).

 When morning arose,

It brought taut, somber skies,

And hinted at mysteries;

Once sodden, twice dry.

In vain, I test secrets

That still pass us by;

Too small to summon cirrus clouds,

 We’ll never know why…

Poem written by L.P.-G.

                                                             c. June 2026

WE MOST DEFINITELY REMEMBER THEIR VALOR,

   … as we surely should

                                                       

Such BRAVE folks:

We thank them!

Tough service merits praise!!

Their selfless acts

Of fearlessness,

Ensured more

Carefree days…

We honor those

Who fought for us,

With picnics and

Parades…

 

Patriotic songs

Are sung

And festive wreaths

Are laid…

Yet, Memorial events

In the “mitten state”

Are often marred

By rain…

Next year I’ll have

To venture south;

States, “north”

Are too insane!!

Poem written by L.P.-G./ May 2026

WHEN MAY-DAY TURNS COLD

 [and COLD it was!]

I ached for their fragrance

In May’s misty spray;

Yet, hope of a sighting

Soon withered to gray…

Not leaf, nor pale petal,

Would grace the damp day

As dawn flickered lightly

And waxed my dismay…

This sparked a recounting

Of Spring’s passion play;

But prized, purple beauties

Remained ‘tucked away’…

To endlessly seek them

Today, seemed in vain;

These lavender treasures

 Evade the chilled plains…

**********

I cherish an old tale

That still lines my brain:

Dear lilacs!

Sweet lilacs!

Please dance in the rain!!!

Poem written by L.P.G. / c. 2026

In honor of my late father’s birthday

[He would have turned 97 on May 1^st]

As a small child, my late paternal grandmother often recounted [to me] the story of my father’s birth in New York on a day that she remarked “the lilacs danced and kissed the rain”. That said, a cold May surely has a way of delaying their beautiful, lavender-purple blossoms.