July Poems

Popular July Poems
A Birthday
by Aleister Crowley

"Aug." 10, 1911.

Full moon to-night; and six and twenty years
Since my full moon first broke from angel spheres!
A year of infinite love unwearying ---
No circling seasons, but perennial spring!
A year of triumph trampling through defeat,
The first made holy and the last made sweet
By this same love; a year of wealth and woe,
Joy, poverty, health, sickness --- all one glow

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Fourth Of July
by Julia Ann Moore

Fourth of July, how sweet it sounds,
As every year it rolls around.
It brings active joy to boy and man,
This glorious day throughout our land.

We hail this day with joy and pride,
And speak of our forefathers who died;
Who fought for liberty in days of yore,
And drove the British from our shore.


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Attack Of The Squash People
by Marge Piercy

And thus the people every year
in the valley of humid July
did sacrifice themselves
to the long green phallic god
and eat and eat and eat.
They're coming, they're on us,
the long striped gourds, the silky
babies, the hairy adolescents,
the lumpy vast adults
like the trunks of green elephants.

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The Months
by Sara Coleridge

January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.

February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.

March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.

April brings the primrose sweet,

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(inner Tube)
by Michael Ondaatje

On the warm July river
head back

upside down river
for a roof

slowly paddling
towards an estuary between trees

there's a dog

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Recent July Poems
Here Comes July
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

On posts of gaunt and naked bamboo
spread forth the green banner
beyond the scorched hills.

Let it flutter loosely
across the blue sky.

The sun is a witness today.

Within this hiatus of sun-witness

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Rites of the Seventh Month
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Empyrean drops,
Monument of July,
The pluvial chapter of life...

O July of enfeebled yolk,
Dispenser of splendour of sempervirence,
God has watered your tongue.
Therefore, pour, July, pour
The essence of life,
The grit of living

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watching fireworks through the skylight
by Sarah A

watching fireworks through the skylight
i feel pretty tonight
sprinkles on the ceiling
always lick off the frosting
dizzying silliness
accompanying unadulterated bliss
why can’t life always feel like this

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My Home
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

This is the place that I love the best,
A little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest,
Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,
Summer retreat of the birds and bees.

The tenderest light that ever was seen
Sifts through the vine-made window screen--
Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls
On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.


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Preparation
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We must not force events, but rather make
The heart soil ready for their coming, as
The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,
Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost,
Prepares for Winter. Should a July noon
Burst suddenly upon a frozen world
Small joy would follow, even tho' that world
Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting
Of sharp December pierce the heart of June,
What death and devastation would ensue!

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