Reading is fun. In this book you can read poemsand write some of your own!There’s also room to draw or color.The poems talk about summerand will be great fun duringyour summer break.

Southern Utah UniversityLiterary Arts Internship

SummerPoems for Children

by Dana Sa

vage

Summer days

when you

are a child

are a hazy

dream.

Dreamily wa

lking through

three months

of bliss.

Playing with

friends

or going on

vacations.

Happy memo

ries you can

think

about as y

ou drift of

f to sleep.

Dreaming of

what the

next summer

day will ho

ld.

About Summerby Brittany Pierce

Yellow is the prevailing color of the season.It falls down from the shinning, sizzling sunand splashes offbobbing, budding flowersgrowing on the ground.It’s gathered up by thebuzzing, bumbling beesas they zip the color awayto construct a mightyyellow fortress of comb.They put the yellow into mixersand create a flowing river ofsticky, golden honey.

This poem uses the color yellow to describe different things. What’s your favorite color? Write a poem about things that are your favorite color.

Summer Photographyby Hanna Peterson

Lemon sparkle sun drops splatter on black asphalt,burning little pink toes and fingers that clutch colored chalk.Secrets are whispered from popsicle-sticky lips in the shade;ancient trees, guardians of inno-cence, summer love,green umbrellas in heat-wave down-pours. Birthdays are celebrated by can-non blasts of rainbows;cups of Kool-Aid, hotdogs and sparklers become extra limbs.The sun, a golden nectar, hangs in the sleepy sky,Blinking in between the branches and power poles,Taking photographs of smiles and twinkling eyes.

Popsicles, Kool-Aid, and Hotdogs are some of the summer foods in this poem. What foods do you like? Write a poem or draw a picture with your favorite foods in it.

Something Beautifulby Jackie Orton

Bronze curls dance across soft cheekssitting on a blanket with white stars and red stripesgleaming from underneath her tea set.

She nibbles on the cookies arranged on her plate takes a sip from an empty cup.Slender fingers carefully place the tea pottracing the pink edging as if trying to memorize the feel.Her voice light and sweet

humming—talking to friends not there.She stretches her toes and smilesrests the daisies she picked on her bear.Olive skin glistening under the dying sunher lavender dress inviting the last rays of light.

This poem is about having fun by yourself, What do you like to do by yourself? Write a poem or draw a picture about the fun things you do when you are by yourself.

by Jacqui Harrah

The summer I was nine a magical rain f looded the deser t. For a week, the water f lowed along the foot worn paths and when it was f inally over, the deser t was a garden.My paths were covered in a downy wild green grass that felt softer on my bare feet than the lawn I mowed every Saturday.The rain also brought life to strange things the deser t had not seen in a long time.Firef lies and toads hatched from eggs long buried beneath the pale dir t,replacing the scorpions and lizards that had f led from the unfamiliar mud.At night soft, hovering fairy lights danced to the sound of croaking toads,and I watched through my backyard fence, entranced by the unfamiliar.In two weeks this new world was replaced again by the old, the grass wilted under the summer heat and the f iref lies and toads went back to sleep beneath the dir t, waiting for the day when the magical rain would come again.

Fun in the Sunby Jessica Williams

Summer comes and summer goes,as we wander down the roads.The sky is blue, the sun is hotwhat we need is a shady spot.Under the trees we liescanning the big blue sky.The touch of the grass is coldgrasping us with its hold.Watching as the clouds go byshouting out what we spy.As we giggle and laugh

imagining life on a giraffe.A trip to the lakefor a needed breakis filled with friends and fun.We stay until the day is done.Head home for some needed sleepno need for anyone to weep.More fun will soon be had,a few hours away isn’t bad.The summer continues onand the days are not yet gone.

by Kyra Lehtinen

Dry dry days after the end of schoolwhen everyone is keeping coolunder tents made out of popsicle sticksand colored construction paper bitswhile birds strike up a raucous chorusechoing noisily throughout the forestlike halls of lockers not seen since Juneunderneath a werewolf moonas lost boys run around wild and screamjoyfully in a Neverland dreamwhere growing old is not requiredgrowing up is not admiredtelling fireside stories and counting starsmaking cardboard rockets to go to Marsskipping rocks and climbing treesjumping creeks and scraping kneesslick mud oozing between bare toeswrestling with a writhing garden hoseno need for sleep no need for beduntil lost boys and girls nod their headsand drift off on the dewey lawnfilled with soothing cricket songand firefly nightlights floating into the skyreflecting stars in half closed eyes.

by Lloyd Grimm

We look out on the summer weather.“No school today?” “No school forever!”“Go on outside,” our mothers say.“It’s nice out there, go out and play!”

We dash outside to start the funand run until it hurts our lungs.And then we fall down on our backsand run our hands through blades of grass.

With balled up fists we tear out clumps,build giant hills and tiny lumps.When we’ve grown tired of pulling grass,we single clouds out as they pass.

See that one just above the house,a pirate ship! And there, a mouse.That big one there next to the boat,a castle and it’s got a moat!

That skinny cloud looks like a man.The round one there’s a frying pan.That one’s a sheep! So’s that one too!And that one looks a lot like you.

What do you see when you look at the clouds? Draw or describe different shaped clouds.

Magic of Summerby Mette Holden

It’s sleeping in until the sunlight creeps into your bedroom, cut into pieces by the blinds, and then covering your face with your blanket,so you can go back to sleep;

it’s eating sticky watermelon on the porch, spitting the seedsinto the garden, careful not to swallow them sothey don’t start to grow in your stomach;

it’s walking around barefoot, feeling the cool grass, the rough asphalt,and the smooth concreteagainst calluses of your feet;

it’s reading until all hoursof the night, swimming in the pool until your skinburns pink, traveling across country with you family.

Summer is dreaming during the day—purefreedom from the interruptions of school. You are who you want to be.

What about summer is magical to you? Could you write a poem or draw a picture about the magic of summer?

One twilight, my best friend

and I played in my backyard.

Running in the cool grass,

dodging every moth in sight.

My friend stopped, looking up

at the tree in our yard.

Too big to climb.

“I bet you all the moths live here.”

One two three,

we kicked that tree,

and the moths fell upon us

like a warm summer rain.

Instead of being scared,

I felt the magic.

by Seirra PeaceI never liked insects

crawling on my skin.

The feeling left me jumpy, jittery,

checking my closet

for giant spiders.

One summer, the moths came.

They hid everywhere.

On my windowsill.

In the air conditioner.

Burrowing into the screen door.

When a few of them flew in,

they raced around every light bulb,

never getting tired.

The sound of their wings

made my eyes twitch

all night.

Summer is…by David Baxley

Summer is more than the seasonthat falls after spring and springs before fall,is more than sitting quietly at your deskwhile holding your breath waitingfor that last bell to ring.Summer is running loudly throughquiet halls and no one askingto see your pass.

Summer is more than sun bright yellowbuses with wheels that go round and round.Summer is the apple red family carheaded for the beach wheremy brother and I bounced up and downto the energetic beat of the back seat.

Summer is leaving eager footstepson hot dunes the way astronautsleft footprints on the moonnot wanting to be late to the classroom of the shorewhere our teacher Mrs. Atlanticwould greet us with blue-greenhands that waved hello.

Summer is more thanA is for apple and B is for ball.In summer the letters are markedon a chalkboard made of sandwhere A is for an Anemonethat tickles Clown Fish with rainbow fingersand B is for a Boat sailingon the border of where the ocean meets the sky filling their white sail lungs with the huff-ing and puffing breath of the wind.

In summer two letters to watch out forare J and S becauseJ is for Jellyfish who stings when shaking handsand S is for lookout…Shark!

Summer is more than 2+2=4and counting all the way to a hundred.Summer is for being confusedwhen you learn that you can’t buy ice creamwith Sand Dollars, for subtractingsea shells from the shore, and adding upthe number of gulls circling abovewho cry impatient thunder waitingfor your storm cloud fiststo rain bread drops into salt skies.

Summer is more than readingabout things such as the animal kingdomand how there are insects, reptilesbirds, fish, and mammals.Summer is for seeing these things for ourselves,for diving beneath the waterpretending to be explorers, for playing hide-and-seek with Crayola fish that live in the coral.

Summer is for not being scared to be silly,for grabbing your mother’s leg while actinglike a shark, for building castlesout of salt and sand and then smashingthrough them while the Fiddler Crab knightsthat walk its walls click their clawsand scuttle away angrily.

I guess summer is more like schoolthan I thought. Everywhereis a classroom with differentand interesting ways of learning.We should greet all of these classroomswith the excitementof held breath.

My swim trunks are onand I’m ready to go.But I’m taking my timecuz that water is cold.My friends are all watching,waiting to see,if I will go first,then they’ll follow me.I run to the edgeand my stomach drops.The one thing I fearis the belly flop.Crashing into the water,swimming back up and thenhurry back to the edgeso I can do that again.

LOOKING INTO THE WATERby Denny Munson

Hum

min

gbir

d V

isit

by J

am

ie N

elso

n

He

cam

e in

lik

e a fl

icke

r

of

a r

ain

sto

rm

’s l

ightnin

g fl

ash

and c

aused

a b

ig c

om

mo

tio

n

as, f

ro

m b

loo

m t

o b

loo

m, h

e dashed

.

Onc

e he

was g

one, w

e did

n’t

kno

wif

he

had e

ver

bee

nfo

r w

hen

we

loo

ked a

ro

und u

sther

e w

as n

o e

vid

enc

e o

f him

.

But w

hat w

e saw

was a

ll b

ut f

als

e o

n t

hat e

arly

sum

mer

day

a h

um

min

gbir

d s

o s

mall

and l

ight

he

co

uld

alm

ost fl

oat a

way.

His

win

gs m

oved

lik

e ey

elashes

bli

nki

ng

in t

he

sun

his

to

ng

out l

ike

a n

eedle

ki

ssed

the

sw

eet C

hrysanthem

um

.

Wit

h t

he

quic

k turn o

f his

hea

d

he

knew

that w

e w

ere

ther

eand o

ff h

e w

ent w

itho

ut a

wo

rd

danc

ing

ac

ro

ss t

he

air

.

This poem is about a humming bird. Write a poem or draw a picture about another of animal.

Hum

min

gbir

d V

isit

by J

am

ie N

elso

n

He

cam

e in

lik

e a fl

icke

r

of

a r

ain

sto

rm

’s l

ightnin

g fl

ash

and c

aused

a b

ig c

om

mo

tio

n

as, f

ro

m b

loo

m t

o b

loo

m, h

e dashed

.

Onc

e he

was g

one, w

e did

n’t

kno

wif

he

had e

ver

bee

nfo

r w

hen

we

loo

ked a

ro

und u

sther

e w

as n

o e

vid

enc

e o

f him

.

But w

hat w

e saw

was a

ll b

ut f

als

e o

n t

hat e

arly

sum

mer

day

a h

um

min

gbir

d s

o s

mall

and l

ight

he

co

uld

alm

ost fl

oat a

way.

His

win

gs m

oved

lik

e ey

elashes

bli

nki

ng

in t

he

sun

his

to

ng

out l

ike

a n

eedle

ki

ssed

the

sw

eet C

hrysanthem

um

.

Wit

h t

he

quic

k turn o

f his

hea

d

he

knew

that w

e w

ere

ther

eand o

ff h

e w

ent w

itho

ut a

wo

rd

danc

ing

ac

ro

ss t

he

air

.

Popsicle Delightby Kasi Henderson

Popsicle juice runs down small fingersa bracelet of red dye.Sticky, sweet smiles tending to linger.

Hot days call for a cool treat—Popsicles perfect, never neat.

Impatiently biting down to the stick,where patience is triedit’s time to lick.

Round and round,not fast enough.Starting to nibbleLike corn on the cob.

The fronts of our teetha faint shade of pinkthe popsicle’s gone as fast as we blink.

The hot summer daysturn to warm summer nightswe’ll begin again tomorrowwith popsicles delight.

This poem talks about sticky popsicles. When you think of popsicles what do you think? List words that you think of when you see popsicles.

Dandelion by Kim Stapley

A treasure can be found

among the wild grass and weeds.

Like golden coins carelessly

scattered, and forgotten along the road.

Many who walk past do not see

their great worth. And others

may not notice the bright beauty

they mash under their foot.

But when I see this yellow flower,

I pluck it from a jungle of

clover and thistle. Placing it in

a vase to share with my friends.

Dingus the Doltby Robert Durborow

Dingus the Dolt was very odd fellow,with his dirty old clothes and two teeth that were yellow. I’d seen him round town with his grocery cart drawing chalk on the sidewalk and calling it art, which it was, if you looked at it just the right way, in fact you might think that some people would pay, to have Dingus draw dragons, blowing fiery gouts, of many hued flame on the walk near their house, and wouldn’t you know, that’s just what some did, some rich folks in Richburg had him draw on the lids of the brown, drab, and boring bins they put on their curbs every Wednesday and Thursday up there in the burbs.

So Dingus drew rainbows, and lemurs, and trees,and bees that were so real they buzzed in the breeze, such a great job he did, that strange fel-low called Dingus, that no one in our town treated Dingus with meanness.

In fact our own Mayor called the town for a talk,about dirty old Dingus and his drawings of chalk.“They’re great,” said the Mayor, “all these things he creates, so it only seems fitting to reciprocateand set up a day, the same one every year,we can all honor Dingus and give him a cheerfor the lovely old mess he has made of our townby tracing his chalk sticks all over the ground!”

Now the ninth day of summer is

known far and wide as the Day of

the Dingus and shouted with pride

from the center of town, where we

have a parade in the honor of Dingus

and the pictures he’s made.

So if you should see, in the streets

of your city, a fellow like Dingus, all

dirty and gritty, think of what such

a person might really be worth, he

just might be the greatest chalk

artist on Earth.

Even if he is not, why not toss

him a penny? For he has too few

and you have so many, that a few

passed along to a very odd fellow,

with his dirty old clothes and two

teeth that are yellow, could just be

the difference he needs on that day,

to buy a few chalk sticks and show

him the way.

Summer Poems for Children is provided by the Southern Utah University Literary Arts Internship. Dr. Danielle Dubrasky acted as the advisor to this internship. Jamie Nelson edited the book and the design was made by Tyce Jones in April 2011.

Poetry written by Southern Utah University 2011 Advanced Poetry Class.

Sponsored by the Utah Humanities Council and the Southern Utah University Student Association.

2011

Reading is fun. In this book you can read poemsand write some of your own!There’s also room to draw or color.The poems talk about summerand will be great fun duringyour summer break.

Southern Utah UniversityLiterary Arts Internship

SummerPoems for Children