We’re off to the movies again! Today our selection is Summer Magic!

Summer Magic is a 1963 Walt Disney Productions film starring Hayley MillsBurl Ives, and Dorothy McGuire in a story about a Boston widow and her children taking up residence in a small town in Maine. The film was based on the novel Mother Carey’s Chickens by Kate Douglas Wiggin and was directed by James Neilson. This was the fourth of six film Mills did for Disney, and the young actress received a Golden Globe nomination for her work here.


There is a certain magic to summer. Well, at least when we were younger and we had more summer to enjoy. We’ll be taking a step back, when our responsibilities were more simple (but here’s hoping we acted responsibly) and find something magical about a summer moment! A first love, a day at the beach, playing baseball, a picnic… My thought is much like my idea of inspiration… it is everywhere you look! Maybe it was your first trip to a Disney park (it is the Magic Kingdom after all!) The magic is in your memory, heart and your words. Wow us with some poetic prestidigitation! Write the magic!



    Magical, Mystical Summer

    The summers of youth
    So special yet so frightful
    Each with its own special magic
    And mystical adventures
    Oh to live them over again

    © Earl Parsons


    Your birthday brings again bright memories:
    the summer days, when everything was young;
    when sunlight poked amongst the maple trees
    and lit on clover flowers that we flung

    on summer days, when everything was young.
    We made our ice cream castles in the air
    and lit on clover flowers that we flung
    above our heads, to meld with heavens where

    we made our ice cream castles in the air;
    we watched them scatter in a burst of bling
    above our heads, to meld with heavens where
    the robins and the jays were on the wing.

    We watched them scatter in a burst of bling
    when sunlight poked amongst the maple trees;
    the robins and the jays were on the wing.
    Your birthday brings again bright memories.


    A poetic word magician
    performing feats of fiction.
    amazing micro poetry,
    prose prestidigitation,
    pulling rare bits from my hat,
    tricks and gags, and all of that.
    Alliterative illusions here,
    making limericks disappear.
    Literary magic, that’s my deal,
    I’ll be here all summer, try the veal.

    © Walter J. Wojtanik


    The soft summer sunset
    places our silhouettes against the sky
    and the cast of evening magic in your eyes.
    The crash of the lake at our feet
    is like the single sound of two hearts beating.

    You, the gardener of my soul,
    I am lost in the music of your laughter
    and your gaze robs me of simple speech.
    I love you with the truest love,
    it is nothing compared to an eternity.

    I find myself riding the red-eye to morning,
    because you have charmed the love right out of my heart.
    Your influence permeates everything I touch,
    and the blessing of you has been a well dealt hand in my life.
    I live every waking second in loving reflection of you.

    © Walter J. Wojtanik


    Back then the bottom of the cereal box
    held a neatly wrapped Flash-Gordon ring
    or a magical coin, sometimes a riddle or two,
    and we kids ate our Wheaties or corn flakes
    (though we were not cereal lovers)
    just so we could reach the prize inside.
    We played the game of guessing
    what we would find once we hit
    cardboard-bottom and it was never
    what we thought it would be.

    We’d talk about writing complaint letters
    to Mr. Kellogg or General Mills
    about how we loved and please put
    in every box a little bit of magic,
    those rings you could spin on your finger
    and blow on so it spun like a flying saucer
    we could imagine flying to Mars
    and the code letters you deciphered
    that turned out to be a special message
    from the great Flash Gordon himself



    Long ago, in our
    small Wisconsin town,
    where every need was met.
    Just one grocery store,
    one diner,
    thirty-two taverns,
    plus five churches,
    no less, no more.

    It was between wars,
    our fathers back from
    overseas, our mothers in
    the home once more.
    Rationing over,
    gardens still in style,
    but frozen dinners had
    their place for sure.

    There were comics,
    radio too,
    pin-up girls galore,
    Slinky’s, Silly Putty,
    a fat-tire Schwinn
    our greatest treasure,
    save for sun and shore.

    When the carnival
    came to town,
    there were posters in town,
    shouting, “clowns, a Ferris Wheel,
    games all around.”
    We tried ring-pegs, and
    darts thrown at balloons,
    and bean bags tossed at
    boards on the ground.
    There were wrestlers,
    and goldfish in small bowls,
    a ping-pong ball toss to win,
    midst the noise of the hucksters,
    the freaky old clowns.

    The thing I hold on to,
    remembering now,
    are the smells of the popcorn,
    and corn dogs, cotton candy
    spun out of nothing but air,
    man how they’d wow.

    It was the best of
    a life filled with smiles
    more than frowns.
    In a life too complex
    it’s a joy to recall
    the day that the carnival
    came to our town.


    Summer Set For Slumber

    The days are getting shorter still,
    the summer fades away,
    we’ll say goodbye from on the hill
    on some late summer’s day.

    I hold you near and we can hear
    Fall waiting in the wings,
    the colors warm will soon appear,
    with all that autumn brings.

    Moments of love’s long embrace
    sustain me through the night,
    and glowing starlight on your face
    makes everything feel right.

    Prepare to dream of Summer sun,
    a restful sleep ensues,
    with memories of Summer fun;
    the ones we’ll never lose.

    The kiss we shared upon that shore,
    the picnics in the park,
    the magic of this life and more
    will greet us after dark.

    And there my dear, I’ll hold you,
    and whisper love’s entreaty,
    as summer sets, when day is through
    to rest in autumn’s beauty.

    So, go to sleep and have your rest,
    I’ll wake you come the Spring,
    just lay your head upon my chest
    to see what this night brings.

    © Walter J. Wojtanik

    Magic Summers

    M agical summers of childhood filled with
    A stonishing secrets of nature. Crickets singing, peep frogs leaping,
    G rass beckoning to bare feet, dreamlike fireflies giving the
    I llusion of fairies flitting through the night, mysterious
    C harm of trees bowed over foot paths creating a secret tunnel to my aunt’s cottage,

    S parkle of dewdrops on violets and buttercups
    U nder shady maples, delightful feel of bare feet in moss,
    M agnetism of a bubbling creek beckoning to reveal its
    M ysteries: crawdads scuttling under rocks, minnows scurrying, leaf boats floating by.
    E nchanted woods, hills, creeks captivating kids. I
    R emember the magic my country neighborhood held for friends and cousins.
    S ummers filled with discoveries, adventures, and fun.

    On the Farm

    I’d chase the kittens through a field
    and swing on vines that did not yield

    Then, when my mother could not see
    I’d climbed the ancient apple tree

    I’d look into the gazing ball
    which made me seem to be quite small

    I’d feed the squawking guinea chicks
    make a teepee out of sticks

    I’d fish for minnows in the creek
    and with the dog play hide and seek

    But I would never milk a cow
    Oh no, not me! No way, no how!

    • What fun! I love this lighthearted poem. I can milk cows. But oh my, they always seem to either pee in the milk or step in the bucket! and then…start over again. This reminded me of those days I visited in the summer so long ago our cousins’ farm.

    • Suessian to say the least. Reminds me of the old rhyme about the “purple cow” –

      I never saw a purple cow,
      I never hope to see one.
      But I can tell you here and now,
      I’d rather see than be one!

      I love the playfulness of yours! Great stuff.

  10. link to website with photo:

    Summer Magic

    magic begins.
    seeds placed into the warm soil –
    Nurtured, drinking warm rain.
    first the sprout and then slowly
    the plant develops – stem, leaves, blooms –
    and then the fruit of the magic –
    tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, corn, green beans.
    and the magic continues.
    tart tomatoes juicy on the tongue.
    vegetables cooked, steamed, grilled, roasted, raw.
    summer magic at its best.
    summer meals.
    the magic continues:
    canned, pickled, made into preserves.
    rows of food on strong shelves.
    summer meals for the winter.
    summer magic.
    magic anticipated:
    memories of the soft warm flesh of tomatoes.
    musical snap of green beans
    sensual shape of squash and cucumbers.
    through the dark months of the winter.
    dreams of summer magic.

  11. Pingback: Magical haiku | Metaphors and Smiles

    Central Park Concerts

    Concerts in the park
    Evening cool, blues hot
    Not minding
    That winding line over rocks.
    Raindrops fell, but we were under the spell of
    Arlo Guthrie’s tales; we did not care
    Love was in the air.

    Performers like B.B. King, Johnny Winters, Emmylou,
    And Melanie lighting candles for peace,
    Rocked us under the stars–
    Kaleidoscope of tie-dyed clothes, hair, emotions shared.

  13. Summer Nights are Magical Times

    Summer nights
    are magical times.
    surround brightly glowing moons;
    Heavenly bodies.

    Summer nights
    are magical times.
    Cold, long neck
    slake the evening thirsts of
    Heavenly bodies.

    Summer nights
    are magical times.
    Moonlit hair
    the face I timidly kiss;
    Heavenly body.

  14. Pingback: Poem: Summer Nights are Magical Times – Wanna Get Published, Write!

  15. Aquatic Days

    Running through sprinkler til soaking wet;
    Water gun fights aided with our buckets.
    Wading in the creek and seeking crawdads;
    Drinking up profit in lemonade stands.
    Pumping water from the windmill.
    Necessary on days when sky was still.
    Swimming in the horse tank was slimy affair;
    Fishing in the pond with never a care,
    Water magic was everywhere.

Comments are closed.