Tuesday, May 11, 2010


Ramona Street on a Hot Summer Day

You can hear the whack
of a tennis ball against the plastic bat.
You can smell Mrs. Lowry’s
honeysuckle bush.
You can lick an ice cold popsicle
from Pete’s ice-cream truck.
You can feel Mr. Garcia’s sprinkler water
tingling on your warm skin.
There’s no place I’d rather be
than Ramona Street
on a hot summer day.

Betsy Franco

A Warm Spoony Day

It’s a day for a cone,
for a plum,
or a peach,
a warm spoony day
for a run
on the beach,
where a ball
hits the clouds,
where the sky tips
the sea,
where we jump
for the water,
one, two, three!

Sarah Wilson


Hear him tumble
rumble.. .
Bash, crash, blunder—
old grouch thunder!
Always in a mood to fight—
morning, afternoon, or night.
Lightning quickly answers back
with a zig-zag

Bobbi Katz

Kathy Stemke's websites:
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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love Sarah Wilson's poem. She relates inanimate objects, weather and food and the beach. I think its important to relate one thing to another with poetry. Nicely done.

Stephen Tremp