August Poems
Circe
by Augusta Davies Webster
The sun drops luridly into the west;
darkness has raised her arms to draw him down
before the time, not waiting as of wont
till he has come to her behind the sea;
and the smooth waves grow sullen in the gloom
and wear their threatening purple; more and more
the plain of waters sways and seems to rise
convexly from its level of the shores;
and low dull thunder rolls along the beach:
there will be storm at last, storm, glorious storm.
......
The City Planners
by Margaret Atwood
Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the sanities:
the houses in pedantic rows, the planted
sanitary trees, assert
levelness of surface like a rebuke
to the dent in our car door.
No shouting here, or
shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt
......
You Can'T Have It All
by Barbara Ras
But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands
gloved with green. You can have the touch of a single eleven-year-old finger
on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back.
You can have the purr of the cat and the soulful look
of the black dog, the look that says, If I could I would bite
every sorrow until it fled, and when it is August,
you can have it August and abundantly so. You can have love,
though often it will be mysterious, like the white foam
that bubbles up at the top of the bean pot over the red kidneys
until you realize foam's twin is blood.
......
The Lay Of The Mountain
by Friedrich Schiller
To the solemn abyss leads the terrible path,
The life and death winding dizzy between;
In thy desolate way, grim with menace and wrath,
To daunt thee the spectres of giants are seen;
That thou wake not the wild one, all silently tread--
Let thy lip breathe no breath in the pathway of dread!
High over the marge of the horrible deep
Hangs and hovers a bridge with its phantom-like span,
Not by man was it built, o'er the vastness to sweep;
......
The Garden Of Eros
by Oscar Wilde
IT is full summer now, the heart of June,
Not yet the sun-burnt reapers are a-stir
Upon the upland meadow where too soon
Rich autumn time, the season's usurer,
Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees,
And see his treasure scattered by the wild and spendthrift breeze.
Too soon indeed! yet here the daffodil,
That love-child of the Spring, has lingered on
To vex the rose with jealousy, and still
......
Lights Out
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Redbird at midnight
Where did the orange sun go
on Emerald Lane?
Stars twinkle summer
butterfly wings so weary
Lights out cool fireflies.
Resting on jade grass
do the crickets miss their song
in mellow moonlight?
Flowers waltz in pearls
......
Cuties Chilled
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
chicago cuties
tangerine days of summer
when noon redbird sings
cool burst of sunshine
from the fridge of hot august
its dream turned to dust
flowers are flaunting
crisp tomorrows coming soon
......
End of Summer
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
August is fading
lushest blooms kiss a fierce sun
sudden surprise chills
standoff of seasons
spicy fragrance thrills both sides
butterfly bliss hides
skies still berry blue
melancholy wake up call
......
August Evening
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Pink, gold and purple
at the verge of baby blue
Soft, twilight birdsong
Flickering fascination
in the glow of green fireflies
Weary day gives way
to cool night's diamonds and pearls
and pervading scents
Lush evening, dripping colors
......
Into the Sunshine
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
through the dim hallway
to bright blaze of better days
optimistic smile
interesting hues
and all are feeling warmth's touch
in sweet summer's glaze
sultry, rich August
when the roses are teeming
......
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Edith Wharton (1 poems about August)
24 January 1862 – 11 August 1937 / New York City / United States -
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