Time for another song to motivate our poem writing. Sort of. One musical group seems synonymous with summer. The American rock band, the Beach Boys, epitomized the youthful exuberance of the beach and surf culture.


Endless Summer is their compilation album, released on June 24, 1974. A collection of hits from the band’s 1962–65 period, Endless Summer was compiled by their old label Capitol Records while the Beach Boys were contracted with Reprise Records. Its unexpected success bore immediate consequences on the band’s then-progressive musical direction.

Four months after release, the album reached #1, and reclaimed the band’s commercial glory in the United States, spending 155 weeks on the Billboard album chart. It became the group’s second chart-topping album in the US, being certified 3x platinum by the RIAA for shipping over three million copies in the US.

The playlist for the album tracks reads like this:

Side A: Surfing’ Safari – Surfer Girl – Catch A Wave – The Warmth of the Sun – Surfin’ U.S.A.

Side B: Be True To Your School – Little Deuce Coupe – In My Room – Shut Down – Fun, Fun, Fun

Side C: I Get Around – Girls On the Beach – Wendy – Let Him Run Wild – Don’t Worry Baby

Side D: California Girls – Girl Don’t Tell Me – Help Me, Rhonda – You’re So Good to Me – All Summer Long

Bonus Track: Good Vibrations


Adopt one of the Beach Boys song titles above as the title/inspiration of your poem and write of your Endless Summer !


    (Girls On the Beach!)

    Forgotten acquaintances foregoing
    fun, fun, fun to head for the warmth of the sun
    would be nice, wouldn’t it?

    I’ve been busy doin’ nothin’
    but thinking about the fairer part
    of this sad kokomo I have become.

    It was a sin how lady Lynda
    found the need to break away and say nothing,
    a sorry soul more lost than I had become.

    God only knows why I chose to be
    the hero and villain in her serial life.
    But, would I do it again? You bet I would!

    And is it possible to forget Caroline?
    No! I was amazed how one woman
    could make this space we shared a better

    place than was served up on this platter
    of life. She would have been a great wife,
    but she liked the ocean, she was free flowing and

    growing impatient with my muse.
    I’m waiting for the day when I can say
    I no longer miss her. I would kiss her

    in a heartbeat were she here, the dear.
    Then there’s the darlin’ Barbara Ann.
    When I get around to her, I can hear music.

    That’s why God made the radio!
    But she was another of those California girls,
    free of spirit and on life’s surfing safari

    with nary a care in this whole world.
    When I said “Don’t worry Baby” she must have
    taken it to heart. A wild honey.

    I always thought that when I grew up to be a man
    who needs a woman, it would work its way around
    to happening. I wonder. Please, let me wonder.

    So help me, Rhonda. I can never learn not to love.
    Isn’t it time I come out from in my room for you?
    Don’t fight the sea, sail on, sailor!
    This child of winter needs you here with me.

    (C) Walter J Wojtanik

        • With the questions about made up names, I had to add a real made up one. I do know, I knew a lovely girl in high school name of Christopher, after her father. And she was gutsy enough to go by Christopher.

          • My dad’s name was Walter (Wladislaw) ad was my grandfather’s. But, my grandmother’s name was Wladislawa (the feminine of Wladislaw) it roughly translated into Charlotte (Lottie) So I guess I already had the feminine name lined up, Toni!

            • So. let me get this straight and I hope I get it right, you are of Polish descent? It is good to know the Wladislawa translates to Charlotte. One of our neighbors was named Cecylia. She and my mother were the same age and my mother’s name is Celia. They loved having the “same” name. Great neighbors, great food.

              • All her official documents list Wladislawa as her legal name. I only knew her as Grandma Lottie. I had found her on as Charlotte in one of the censuses which made sense.So I come from a longer line of Wlads that even I imagined, Toni!

                • We’ve been southern for so long. Ancestors were rowdy Vikings and crazed Irish. Settle on the NC coast in late 1600’s on land grant land (still in the family). So….long line of drawlers. No Olfs or such but still many ericssons.

    In My Room

    This room is a dainty whim.
    Its north light dimmed
    through lacy sheers.
    And against the wall
    an old soft chair,
    covered in ivy green —
    it holds the corner with
    photos, frames, books boxed
    and scattered, and a stuffed
    lizard with a bored grin.
    A room for dust held tight,
    here where life is unseen.
    It’s a dainty whim,
    this lonely place where
    the past never fades.


    © Misky 2016 – p.s. this is not my room.


    The high heat makes me burn and perspire
    and it makes clouds of dust of the mire;
    how I wish for the shroud
    of a passing grey cloud
    but the sun will not deign to retire.


    Taking liberties with verb tenses,
    myopically, this old man looks back
    at a lost time when I GOT around,
    wishing I still GET around,
    but these shaky legs of mine
    once sturdy as the mighty oak
    remind me I’m no longer
    a young cool head, more an old bald head
    who loses his balance when,
    yeah, he turns around, turns around,
    and God help me if I hear those Boys
    break out in 156 Beats per minute.

    My wife begs me again not to get up and dance.
    I get around, I get around, I get around,
    thinking: Hey, once upon a time
    I never missed yet with the girls I MET.
    I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip.
    “This is the A & P,” Sharon says,
    but I tell her, “Don’t worry, Baby.
    I can do this all summer long.”
    Out of breath, chest tight as Dennis Wilson’s drum,
    my legs nearly felled like forest timber,
    I stagger towards the meat and fish aisle,
    happy as a clam I can still GET around,
    get around. Yeah, I GET around!


  5. Best music ever! Who doesn’t want to dance, rolling down the highway, to the whole thing? Yet…

    California Girls

    Where are they?
    The California girls
    like me. Where
    do the freckled, fat
    and short hide
    from camera sneers,
    averted eyes?
    Are they, like yeti,
    sometimes found existing
    in dim hours, doughy and gray
    and trailing attic webs
    like long, silver,
    dusty hair. What
    did their mothers
    say to them? How
    did they learn
    to disappear?

    • I learned to be invisible at an early age, though I wasn’t fat and freckled. Ninja stealth mode I guess. But I was way shorter than everyone else – still at 64 I’m only 4’10” and still invisible. One does wonder where all the unacceptable disappear?

      • I was invisible all through high school. (Debilitating shyness) And the I found poetry. All the folks that never knew I existed, read my poetry now and are fans! The few that saw me when I was invisible read me all along!

    You’re So Good to Me

    You’re so lucky,
    I said.
    she asked.

    you have had me
    to love.
    She laughed.

    No, really,
    I am so in need
    of love, and you
    have loved so well.

    I tried,
    she said.
    Oh, way more than try.
    You did so well.

    And now?
    Who will you love?
    she said, at last

  7. Pingback: Haiku for Today | kanzen sakura

    Fun, Fun, Fun

    I had no beaches growing up
    Never once did I see the ocean
    Just potato fields and woods
    Cows and horses eating grass
    Long cold winters were the norm
    Springs and summers a delight
    Changing leaves meant autumn’s near
    Some would think my life a bore

    We had a drive-in movie theater
    Bowling alley and skating rink
    A 9-hole golf course for the old men
    Who sometimes dared bring their wives
    We bought old cars and supped them up
    Rebuilt motorcycles into choppers
    Took road trips on down to Woodstock
    Woodstock, New Brunswick, that is

    We listened to every Beach Boys’ songs
    And dreamed of places far away
    That we would one day hopefully see
    With beaches and surf and girls and fun
    Meanwhile we had fun on our own
    Just growing up in rural America
    No beach, no surf, just girls with no tans
    A country boy’s version of fun, fun, fun

    © Earl Parsons

    Flirting With The Lifeguard

    Closest thing we had to bronzed,
    blonde-haired surfer boys
    of California notoriety,
    were lifeguards. There they sat,
    white tower, white cream
    on noses, commanding
    whistle around their necks.
    We spread our beach towels
    next to their stations. Glorious
    summer, lying on our stomachs,
    chin up to catch their attention.

    An occasional wink set off fits
    of giggling, and much wiggling
    to adjust our bathing suits
    just right. Biggest thrill was when
    their shift ended. We watched
    them descend onto the sand
    hoping for a smile, a few words.
    They were not California surfers,
    but then, we were not California

  10. Good Vibrations

    Way cool jazz
    at the local lounge
    Summer nights
    Sultry voice
    Shared good vibes with the beauty
    who’d become my wife

  11. Pingback: Poem: Good Vibrations – Wanna Get Published, Write!

  12. Good Vibrations

    I was attracted to him for two years
    But wouldn’t admit it to myself
    Since he was my boyfriend’s best friend

    But after four years of going together
    Our relationship finally faded
    And one night in their college dorm room

    The lights were low
    We danced to the music
    And I was picking up good vibrations

    We dated for five months
    Then I went to Wyoming
    Met my future husband

    Some things aren’t meant to be
    Good vibrations or not

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