Two poems - Lemonade and The Stickman

*I put these two poems together because I think that they have the same vibe, plus they are both about summer and have the same rhyme scheme. This is under my folder 'poems'. Enjoy!*

Lemonade

A hot summer evening
Full of things unsaid
And you’d really like to sing
But your tongue feels like lead

A hot summer evening
Setting out on the street
And you don’t know where you’re going
You have blisters on your feet

A hot summer evening
Pass the lemonade stand
And the smell makes your ears ring
Of ocean, mint and sand

And the fresh smell of limes
And the sharp one of lemon
Thinking of the old times
A sweet smell: orange or melon?

Rummage in your pocket
There’s still a coin or two
There’s a rusty old locket
And the lace of a shoe

Give the seller the money
Take the glass in your hand
Laugh at a joke; it’s quite funny
Share your thoughts on a band

Walk away past the same street
Sipping at the cool drink
At a bench, take a seat
And then you start to think

Think of birds and a song
Look around, see a mole
Think of what’s going wrong
Think of life as a whole

And you’re not afraid
Because    that’s    what  life       is

That moment

Sitting on that bench

With a glass of lemonade.

The Stickman

I drew a stickman
On the side of my page
Wind in my face from the fan
But I feel like in a cage

What lesson is this?
I think I forgot
The teacher’s voice is a hiss
And my brain is so hot

My stickman has two legs
A body, head and arms
There’s the stain from the dregs
Of a tea from brand ‘Charms’

My stickman is walking
To where, I know not
It might also be mocking
Through its eye that is dot

Mocking: “Ha! I am free!
And you are stuck at school
Because you have to be.”
I rock back on my stool

“No I’m not!” I say.
“Well, not any more.
See, on this hot day
I’m here at the shore.”

The white sand under me
And the blue sky right over
And there, there’s a palm tree
With leaves green like a clover

And the breeze in the tree
And the breeze in my face
And I’m running to the sea
And I’m doing a race –

The stickman is there!
Who will touch water first?
There’s the wind in my hair
I have a bit of thirst –

Oh.
I’m back.
No.
What a smack.

That was just a daydream.
Before me, the worksheet I never began
And in the corner, smiling supreme
The sketch of a stickman.