Ken_W_Writer’s Stories and Poems
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The golden effulgence of the sun,
begins its rise as I run.
Dappled shadows beneath my feet,
is much cooler than noonday heat.
The sun at its zenith, it’s time for the beach,
soaking up the radiance, my mind out of reach.
The joy of the summer solstice frees my mind,
and lets my stressed-out body slowly unwind.
From early morning ‘til nearly dark,
All sorts of kids play in the park.
Little kids, big kids, every age,
jungle gyms, see-saws, a batting cage.
Good kids, bad kids, they all stop by,
basketballs, baseballs, kites that fly.
Lots of things you see in the park,
skaters, bikers, dogs that bark.
So, if you want to have some fun,
go to the park, bring everyone!
The sand was hot beneath my feet,
I didn’t care, I welcomed the heat.
Me and Summer are like one,
I love the warmth of the sun.
Winter is gone, I am so glad,
Though in Spring, I can be sad.
School and snow are both such bores,
In the summer, I don’t mind my chores.
I’d rather dig a garden in the sun,
Than shovel snow when it’s minus one.
Summer is the time for me,
The only time I feel free.
I can lay on the beach all day long,
And listen to the ocean’s song.
The ocean song fills my mind,
Allowing me to unwind.
If I need to cool my skin,
I race to the sea and jump in.
With all I’ve said I need no reasons,
To say Summer is the best of seasons.
The crowds come every summer.
For us locals, what a bummer.
A tourist town is where I live.
People flock here with money to give.
To stores and attractions where they go,
to buy some stuff or watch a show.
Even at the ice cream shop,
the line’s long, I will not stop.
They visit my town every year,
but let me make one thing clear,
though they spend lots of cash
they also make lots of trash.
To the bars, they go at night,
to get drunk and then they fight.
I know they spend lots of dough,
but I wish that they’d go
elsewhere else with their money,
and their kids and their honey.
But to the town, cash is king.
They want the tourists and their bling.
I’ll end this rant with one wish,
they don’t find where I fish.
I need just one place,
where I won’t have to face
a tourist with an angry voice.
Quiet time is my choice.
If they find my fishing hole,
then I know just where I’ll go.
I’ll have to run on the beach,
where I’m always out of reach.
Though in the end, the crowds will come,
they won’t bother this beach bum.
You lay back in the sun
after a long hard run.
The ocean’s waves lap the shore,
and you relax down to your core.
Your eyes close, your muscles unwind.
Tension leaves your body and mind.
As you slowly drift off to sleep,
happy thoughts, your dreams keep.
The sun shining, the sky clear,
nary a cloud found far or near.
Time goes by, then slowly you wake,
rising from the sand with a shake.
Running your fingers through your hair,
sand, sand everywhere.
Hair and clothes now free of sand,
feeling connected to the land.
Your feet moving, your mind now free,
your thoughts as happy as can be.
Towards home, you go, leaving the beach,
your dreams now feel within reach.
Ken_W_Writer’s Stories and Poems 