Tag Archives: summer

Poem 38: New Zealand springtime

(The poetic form selected for this month is the Standard Habbie aka Burns Stanza. This is the last habbie for this month).

Spring has almost sprung Down Under,
Then summer will rip spring asunder.
But first the cuckoo ‘cross the tundra
Sings a lot.
Our cuckoos whistle! What a blunder!
I quite forgot.

Then let us think of little lambs
Cavorting round with new-born charms.
All hardened hearts are then disarmed.
What a clot!
They’re born in winter on the farms.
I quite forgot.

Let’s call to mind the blossom trees!
Their beauty brings us to our knees!
Pinks and whites in gentle breeze.
I’ve gone to pot!
The florets burst in frosty freeze.
I quite forgot.

Springtime comes all to and fro,
The ducklings hatched a month ago,
Mountains may still get some snow.
It’s ordered not!
The spring’s a messy dance you know.
I quite forgot.

Poem 34: A frightfully PC love song

(The poetic form selected for this month is the Standard Habbie aka Burns Stanza).

Seasonal comparison
Seems to be the thing that’s in:
You’re like a summer’s drink of gin –
At first all pop
But once the alcohol sets in
You’re really hot.

I’ll pour myself another one
And when that’s drunked I think I’m done
And hope we could be in for fun.
You leave? Aw super.
Why go before the night has run?
Party pooper.

Poems 23: The four seasons

(These limericks are the last of my first-of-the-month poems. There have been 35 poems in all. The weekly music finishes this coming Wednesday the 6th. There will have been 101 music compositions. The daily stories reach the finish line on Thursday 7th with story 1001).



Take note that the weather each winter
Is grey and in need of a tinter
If you slip on the ice
Which isn’t that nice
Your leg’ll get put in a splinter.



Just look at the weather each Spring
It’s an utterly pleasurable thing
It seems to get lotta
Brighter and hotta
With blossom buds blooming their bling.



Observe that the weather each summer
Can be a bit of a bummer
They forecast a drought
But we hardly get out
It just gets crumbier and crumber.



It seems that the weather each fall
Is worse than the autumn before
The more the rain wetters
The colder it getters
I’d rather no weather at all.

(Finally, since some definitions of the limerick say it must be bawdy and involve a member of the higher clergy…)


Did you hear of the bishop of York
Who was heavily into his pork?
Bits of the gristle
Sliced up his pizzle
So now he pokes with a fork.

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Poem 15: Thus ends


Thus ends the last summer my father saw.
No one comes back, yet
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

His last days fell full, he could no more
Caste his kindly net.
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.

Mid-autumn’s sun can still burn raw,
But longer shadows set.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

Hoar winter numbs hearts, stuns the core,
The callous wind throws forth her frozen net.
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.

Spring returns, so say platitudes of yore,
But things get farther set.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

Death strikes us dumb, grief mixed with awe,
And makes pretensions smaller yet;
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

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640. Hot shopping

© Bruce Goodman 12 July 2015


It was one of those hot, hot, sticky summer days. Wade sat in his living room in front of an electric fan taking turns holding up one armpit after the other in an effort to cool off. He still had the grocery shopping to do, so eventually he bit the bullet and off he went.

Wade always kept his wallet in his trouser pocket, so he didn’t even bother to check to make sure it was there.

At the supermarket he followed his grocery list and got most things, and at least the shop was a bit cooler thanks to air conditioning. Then he thought (it wasn’t on his list but he thought it would be a good idea) he’d buy a couple of bottles of cold cordial drink or something, but he couldn’t find any that were cold. They all seemed to be in the normal shelves. So he asked a shop assistant where the cold drinks in the fridge were, and she said I thought you were going to ask me where the condoms were.

What a stupid idiot, thought Wade. I might be heading for forty and look about thirty, and am not that bad looking overall, but that proposition on a hot day came from nowhere. Quite frankly it pissed him off. So he said “Ho! Ho! Ho!” like he was Santa Claus or someone, and she eventually told him where the cold drinks were.

Then he went out through the cashier, and went to pay for all his stuff but his wallet wasn’t in his pocket.

In fact it might have been in his pocket, but he’d forgotten to put on his trousers.