Great start, my poetic partners! “Summer Breeze” was an easy listening piece of music to set the mood for a relaxing summer!

Today being Saturday, it calls to mind heading to the theater to catch a movie or to those who remember them, the weekly Adventure series also known as Serials. A great day to spend the afternoon. We’re not concerned with Netflix or those online computer sites. We’re seeing a show! Every Saturday for the month of July will feature the title of a summer movie!

Today’s feature:

“Smiles of a Summer Night”

Smiles of a Summer Night (Swedish: Sommarnattens leende) is a 1955 Swedish comedy film directed by Ingmar Bergman. It was the first of Bergman’s films to bring the director international success, due to its exposure at the 1956 Cannes Film Festival.[1] In 2005 TIME magazine ranked it one of the 100 greatest films since 1923.[2]

The film’s plot—which involves the misadventures of some couples on a summer night—has been adapted many times, most notably as the theatrical musical A Little Night Music by Stephen Sondheim, Hugh Wheeler and Harold Prince, which opened on Broadway in 1973, and as Woody Allen‘s film A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy (1982).

Starring Ulla Jacobsson
Eva Dahlbeck
Harriet Andersson
Margit Carlqvist
Gunnar Björnstrand
Bibi Andersson

Ahem! Yes, well so…

All we need is a poem about something summery that brings a smile to your face. Or it could incorporate a summer night as the theme. I know you’ll find something of which to write!




    I walk the shoreline.
    Evening has lowered her veil
    showing her soft features
    and endearing charms.
    Darkness swept the horizon
    as if her arms had become heavy
    and fell slowly to her side.
    I would slide my hand into hers
    if she would allow it and we’d steal
    soft whispers and tender kisses,
    a bliss unknown to us so far.
    And as the stars found their spaces,
    our faces would be graced by
    a glow so bright it could be seen
    for miles; smiles of a summer night!

    © Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

    Just a Bit of It

    I’d be standing
    at the kitchen sink.
    Maybe looking out the window
    at the blue pots
    at the rubied-red geraniums,
    and he’d come up behind me.
    Like a breeze.
    Surprise me like a gust of wind.
    And I’d smile. Just a bit.
    To myself.


    ©️ Misky 2016

  3. If anyone’s interested, J.M. Barrie (Peter Pan, The Admirable Crichton) wrote a midsummer play: Dear Brutus. It has a country house party, mysterious host, and a forest to be warned about (and get lost in).

    Summer Night Smile-song

    Sultry breeze spirals then settles at dusk
    Hummingbird whirs where each bloom is a cup
    Afternoon washes bare feet then recedes
    Blue, like a tide on summer’s sky-wide sea

    Sun-drenched day softens, horizons subside
    Noon was a young man with dreams in his stride
    Time slows its gait now, forgets its demands
    Undresses wishes with whisper-like hands

    Noise on the highway is muffled with dark
    Boys and girls slumber, somewhere a dog barks
    Moon is a skiff set a-drift all alone
    Stars splay like broken glass caught in the sun

    Jasmine and clover perfume heaven’s wand
    Salt-flavored wind-skin-heart-sea-song are one
    Temptation is a word too young for us
    Darling, the night is blurred with dew and dust

    Touch is a servant to thought’s hungry eyes
    We’ve known each other too long for surprise
    Summer breeze murmurs in raven-leafed trees
    Earth is half-heaven on midnights like these

    © Janet Martin


    Summer afternoons we walked down Graham
    past Montrose where the Rainbow marquee
    lured us kids like hummingbird moths to flames
    of vibrant reds in blooming gardens.
    Anna held our hands as we crossed streets,
    reminding us to behave ourselves.
    I was only eight; Joanie was six;
    Anna, a grand old thirteen, paid coins
    to the ticket booth lady who raved
    about the current matinee films
    as if to justify admission,
    the weekly allowance we had saved.
    “Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein,”
    she said. “you’ll laugh your little heads off!”

    On summer Saturdays, nostalgia
    wafts me back through the locked-away years
    and I fill my head with movie-house
    memories: the theater scent, the laughter,
    the cartoons, newsreels, coming attractions
    luring us back each week, the serials
    that left us hanging over the edge
    of our seats, the company of my sisters.

    One summer I went back to Brooklyn
    and took a walk down Graham past Montrose
    for one more visit to the Rainbow Theatre.
    All my friends had long since moved away:
    Accardi, Cohen, Murray, Cimino.
    And the Rainbow was gone! In its place
    an Evangelical church, years later
    demolished and apartment buildings
    erected in its place. I can still hear
    Anna say, “Sit quiet and watch the movie.”


    • Oh Salvatore! You made my heart flutter! What a grand memory and perfect presentation of same! Your reminiscence reads like a novel you can’t put down! You sir, make me glad to have turned to poetry and be in your “presence”!

      • Hear, hear. And here, here in this place, I get to rub noses with the best of the best. So humbling. So enriching. Leaves me utterly speechless.

      • Your poem inspired pieces from my country-girl childhood where I had never heard of Saturday at the movies or orchestras etc. in a home with no tv or radio:)

        The Entertainment World of a Country Girl

        The great outdoors
        Was the only orchestra she ever heard
        Half-shut eyes ‘neath cloud-fluffed skies
        Held picture shows thought-blurred

        Singers were boys and girls best-dressed
        Four-part harmony cool
        In Christmas carols to moms and dads
        At a concert in a two-room school

        And entertainment was a shallow brook
        Where minnows and tad-poles played
        She traveled the world in story books
        On a barge of willow-shade

        Sometimes she would sit past the barn on a hill
        Watch the highway that held campers and cars
        And she wondered where all ‘those people’ go
        Then she would lie back and count stars

        Freedom was free as the wind that blew
        Through the only world she knew
        Of field and firth, heaven on earth
        On a stage grass-green, sky-blue

        • The simple life always provided an entertainment that in many ways surpassed the modes today. Because it was communal, it involved family and friends and our imaginations. Technology did us no favors in that regard. Beautifully inspired, Janet!

          • agreed. for all the favors technology provides(like this meeting place:) I think it has robbed us of some precious, crucial face to face relationships, something that in our childhood we never gave a second thought!
            Thank-you Walt.

    Summer Sense

    Seeing lightning bugs blinking in the night
    Smelling woodiness of a crackling campfire
    Tasting sweet, biting burnt black marshmallows
    Hearing friendly voices sing, “The Cat Came Back.”
    Touching cool luxurious moss with hot bare toes
    Feeling warmth, smiles, and sunshine in inner soul


    Sunny day of summer play with friends

    Night falls.
    Streetlights call me home.
    Bathed and pj’d,
    Porch swing lulls, but cannot dull
    The day’s fun,
    Spun of love.

    Mom smiles;
    Files away another day.
    We pray and say goodnight.
    Sleep tight.
    Sweet dreams.

    Even the moon beams.

    © Marie Elena Good 2016


    as dusk pulls open the
    dark curtain of
    a summer night
    flashes of light rise up
    from the grassy stage
    signaling messages of love
    in the stillness while
    stars twinkle brightly
    in perfect accompaniment
    from my front row seat
    I clap with joy, watching
    this magical light show
    put on by
    Heaven & Earth Productions

    Summer’s Sweetness

    Haystack romance is prickly; starlight sex,
    lousy with mosquitos. The South plays
    rough with sweet fantasies, delicate

    and tender dreams. Humidity is hard
    on romance and candied violets. Meringues
    sweat and pink spun sugar weeps.

    It’s difficult for me to want a bright eternity.
    Heavenly is dappled, shot with sprinkler prisms,
    clinks with melting ice. Sweet is a deep porch,

    cool as a cave with a bottomless lake. Togetherness:
    ephemeral, though long as all summer’s afternoons.

    I Remember Summer

    It was a great time to be alive
    A time for adventures
    A time for excitement
    A time for living it up
    A great time to be alive

    From the last day of my spring
    To the first day of my fall
    My summer was a time to remember
    And I remember it well

    I think now that fall has arrived
    I will write my summer memories
    Before they fade in the winds of time
    Before winter sets in
    Oh, for summertime again

    (c) Earl Parsons

  11. Pingback: Poem: Summer Lovin’ – Wanna Get Published, Write!

    Okauchee Summers

    It was a small town, just a village,
    not even incorporated,
    but it had elm trees and lilacs, a big lake,
    and back then,
    the homes weren’t yet outdated.
    We were poor, but it was all of us,
    so we didn’t know it.
    Everyone had gardens, fished and hunted,
    wasted nothing that cost nothing,
    shared their bounty, their friendship,
    and neighborliness, they showed it.
    Daytime fun was free, mostly in the lake,
    but there was also tag and war and hide-and-seek,
    and man oh man, the noise we’d make.
    Neighboring farms had silos of corn and piles of hay,
    and you don’t know kids if you think
    we couldn’t turn that into play.
    Nights were for crabbing, and fires and more,
    on holidays, sparklers, marshmallows,
    y’know, non-chocolate s’mores.
    But the best parts of the nights were reserved for the skies,
    the stars and Milky Way, the awesome fireflies.
    We’re blessed with more bounty now,
    perhaps more reasons to smile,
    yet, if I could go back….(oh, just for awhile).

    Behind Pastel Doors

    Rental house, maze of rooms.
    Boys upstate in Woodstock, fumes
    of incense, patchouli, and musk.
    An Adirondack Trailways bus
    bore a group of city girls
    caught up in a heady swirl
    of summer freedom. Three hour
    trip though hot, did not sour
    their elation or plans of which boy’s
    company they would want to enjoy
    on their summer weekend of bliss.
    Monday morning at work, they’d reminisce


    Just recalling that night makes my breath quicken
    my heart pound, even now
    I see the two of us strolling the lake road leisurely
    Headed for the farmer’s meadow, unlatching the gate,
    stopping to kiss in the golden glow of a slow setting sun.
    How is it I can’t remember what I had for dinner, but
    can feel your lips scorching mine so clearly back then?
    Did we know when we started off that it would be
    that night?

    I can still see your eyes watching mine as we lay down
    in the long grass
    So serious, a tenderness there, I knew I could trust
    And your every touch both a question and a match
    setting me aflame
    You were amazing, I remember thinking – wondering
    how it was possible you knew how to do
    what you did, so carefully, so patiently,
    so, so … skillfully.
    I thought if you stopped, I might die.

    Dusk was full on us and stars pierced
    the night sky by the time we lay back
    To hold each other in gentleness and love;
    we were embarking on eternity even then.

    Smiling in Shades of Blue

    The sky’s
    got a twinkle in her
    eyes, a certain slant of
    moon sliver holding
    midnight court with breeze.

    These trees
    have got some secrets and they
    in leafy tongues some song
    we’ve seldom sung,
    to make us smile.

    These blues
    are self-azured and we are
    cobalt savvy silent
    and wave slaphappy
    in our own bright skin.

    and grin.
    Be true.
    Infused with blue.

    • gorgeous! I enjoy sharing your work with my daughters. You have a special style all your own, that just keeps on wowing the reader! thank-you again.

      • You’re not kidding! I’d recognize my De anywhere. Nobody does romance better than Walt, and nobody plays with words better than De, IMHO.

        Case in point: Self-azured. WOW. WOW!

    • Oh, so much to love here – “blues are self-azured and we are (indigo-bled)/cobalt savvy silent” – stuck with me in particular. As always, your word-play is superb … it’s really good to be back reading your work again, De.

  16. Pingback: Smiling in Shades of Blue | Whimsygizmo's Blog

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    A Moon, A Quarter Full

    There is something magical
    about the moon at night,
    whether she winking
    or full and bright.

    When she’s barely there
    you can hardly see
    but the stars so bright,
    man, what a sight.

    And when she’s full
    your way is lit,
    the creatures of the night
    give less of a fright.

    Babies are born
    and owls give a hoot,
    lips meet, it feels so right
    under the moon and the whispers of the night.

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