Hot Summer Day
The seashells I’ve collected stink,
not one of them is pretty.
My cordial’s too warm to drink,
my sandwiches are gritty.
I’d build a fortress on the shore
but no one here will help.
I won’t go swimming any more
with jelly fish and kelp.
My face is hot, it’s getting pink.
I’ll turn into a peach.
I hate to grizzle, but I think
it’s time to leave the beach!
© Jenny Erlanger
Although I have many positive memories of the many Christmases I spent as a child on the Mornington Peninsula, eating sandwiches on the beach in the middle of summer, with no shade in sight, was not one of them. This poem comes from my volume of children’s poetry, Giggles and Niggles (Haddington Press, 2007)
Congratulations! Short, sharp and funny! LOVE IT.
Thank you for the feedback.
Hi Jenny, was looking for you on fb – where are you? Would love to exchange rhymes. All the best, Guundie https://www.facebook.com/nacktehausfrau
Love it.
Thank you Patricia. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I never liked the beach as a child for all these reasons – you’ve encapsulated it so well – but what about the flies, the sand in your swimmers and the salt-water-nasal irrigation?!