Summer prose poem

With sticks and stones, to pass our time, we roamed the countryside. Like our mouths, the earth was dry. The sun poured down on our joy ride.

Summer holidays always bruised my ankles and my knees. Once it gave me a deep cut on my forehead for trying to climb a tree. I carry the mark even today.

Little inventions were part of this mid-year Christmas. Mostly games and nick names. In one of the games I was the captain of the village bus.

Sometimes there were discoveries -Like a new road to Geraldine’s house, a wild guava tree- or how to open a can of grease.

Dirt and we were one. Evening baths were a must. Morning’s were optional. Every little boy and every little girl had a crush. And every night was a long wait for the morning Sun.

When the moon arose between the branches, and silence rested on roofs, stories and secrets were exchanged in murmurs between pillows.

Television was for older people. We watched flat stones skip on water and counted how many times they hopped. Once, we tried to climb the church’s steeple.

Many summers have passed since then. And I have two long minutes before the signal turns green. The car is hot. I sit here and think of Summer when she was a friend.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "Summer"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Editorial Board

Remarkable @Jasper_Daniel, your words unwind time and revive childhood days when life was so full of adventure and joy and Summer was not about heat and dust..Your verse has the power to reach out to every reader and take them back in time.


Sonnet #2: Hot, New Summer Day

Sonnet #2: Hot, New Summer Day sonnet poems

’tis a playing field for many kinds out in the arena, to discern the companionship of the puissant sun ’tis a hot, new summer day , blithe and sound maketh thou run, run, run… syrupy voice of nightingale, fills candied

A Summer Place

A Summer Place ballad

Days when the wind blows so cold It tears at my bitter soul I think about that song, A summer place and wanna close my eyes and picture you and me on that beach I remember sitting on a blanket

In The Morning Of Summer

In The Morning Of Summer short poem

In the morning of summer, when life was lonely Sitting beneath the trees, and thinking about you My heart, my heart is lonely Still don’t realize you left me lonely In the morning of summer, when life was lonely Remembering

Summer Soulitude

Summer Soulitude short poem

We walk the deserted streets of my city. The scorching hot cement sizzles that transparent vibration that warmth has under the light of day. We go from empty shops to empty museums to empty shops again, staring at blank walls

Beauty In A Summer Breeze

Beauty In A Summer Breeze long poem

Swallowed in dreams of bliss, and sunset berry kisses in the still of azure skies I gaze into your eyes. Your lips, like honey exude strange sweetness as a dream lover’s dream I find you resistless. Soft whispers pant to