Ode to Summer

Forward: This is one of a few poems I wrote about 30 years ago, when in my mid teens, copies of which were found today. Of course these were very early attempts of mine at writing poetry (so please bear this in mind 🙂 ). I then did not write until 2018, when I started writing poems again and publishing on my blog and on social media platforms.


The very colour of the sand, the bugs, their bites, their stings,

the summer breeze, the wafting, warm and salty, bright blue air,

the sailboards still as water skaters casting merry rings,

and sandy feet with bright pink toes and smiles without a care,

and dainty toes which probe along a ferny sun-baked path,

the painted, heeling yachts which drift like ghosts upon the tides,

and merry, thin, warm voices drifting o’er the water laugh.

The back massaging sun which shivers down wet swimmers’ sides,

a swim, a towel, the sun, a sneeze, an ice cream please,

then walk in shorts, shirt, shoes, no socks, through scented plants, dust, bees.


Oh Summer kind do you not sit beside the sun and spy

the smallest ant which marches up a saw-toothed blade of grass,

steam engine cows which chug away, a butterfly,

a shady copse, a dead bird ruffled in the wind to pass

away a wondering melody, dispersed her song with time;

the wind flows down the sloping fields and beams upon the life,

and wind tossed grass now blushes in return a secret mime,

whose rhythms join the tune beneath the sinking sun, whose strife

against the thirsty west is drunk away. The rabbits still,

with peaceful eyes, do hear the verse which puffs with gentle chill.


The summer light shines bright on shimmering sea and castle walls

which once were shrouded in the winter mist, were hardly there,

but come alive, reveal their splendour, myths of fighting, balls;

and magic dances in the scorching air and everywhere.

It thrills in tourists’ hearts who walk by shady holly trees,

and peer inside cathedrals great, museums cool, and through

the locals, knowing every bush, and calm, and stormy seas.

The eye of heaven burns down from the everlasting blue,

upon a thousand towns with outdoor cafe seats, high rooves,

a million people talking, and the clattering horse hooves.

Bubble, World

Milky cirrus slowly spoil the blue.

Beneath, a gentle, chill, foggy air,

caressing breezes brush our concrete honeycomb.

Behind portrait windows, we forget our nature there.


Dazzling white, dull grey, and darker down,

clouds falling weight toward the buzzing ground,

branches lift upon the hills where horses stare.

Rectangles light our faces, a landscape without sound.


Light drops, sky darkens, soft, electric light,

an angry horn, a walker jumps and frowns,

hardly reaching our muffled conscious, within our block,

a thousand workers, in a thousand buildings, in a thousand grotty towns.


With one dusty cider, beneath a distant tree,

a tired bike leaning in its mellow shade.

Soaking in a balmy air,

one man remembers, there,

as shadows fade.


Beneath the globe, a tropic night, a heavy ocean,

where dark fish glide through swirling tides and shimmer

briefly, slipping to the deep

below, beyond the faint stars’ wavering glimmer,

where mountains of water shift in cold and silent motion.


Morning. Light.

Shells. Crabs. Sand.

Warmth. Colours. Splendour. Blues.

Pacific waves, dark walls, white splashing hues.

Unseen? To come? Gone? Empty, empty land.


Towering clouds stretch to the stratosphere,

where splashing rain has washed away the grey.

Drinking sunshine, touching wind, with watery eyes,

people laugh and shout, and are swept with the leaves in disarray.


Buildings proud, and clean, and strong, and tall,

turning eyes see all, and all anew,

fresh trees waving, waters dancing, voices sparkling,

a rainbow in a raindrop, iridescence in the dew.


Three hundred swimmers lined up on the sand,

the signal goes, we charge into the sea,

thrumming voices, icy, scintillating high.

And as I drift upon my back, I gaze into the sky.

I know, when grey skies come, I’ll know it’s fine, no longer wondering why.