Pencil Stubs Online
Reader Recommends


Honeysuckle Nights

By John I. Blair


In the South there is a season
When the soft, seductive scent
Of honeysuckle blossoms
Perfumes the warm night breeze.
Down my quiet city street
Beneath the overarching trees
On such a night
Some older houses catch my glance
And I find my mind is bent
To imagine moonlit scenes
From years before
When lovers chose to meet
On shadowed porches
Sheathed in honeysuckle vines.
Our grandparents didnít have
A tenth of our technology,
But it seems quite evident
They knew a lot about romance. © circa 2002 John I. Blair

Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


Refer a friend to this Poem

Your Name -
Your Email -
Friend's Name - 
Friends Email - 


Reader Comments

Name: Juanita Email:
Comment: Ummm...I can almost smell the honeysuckle! Your poem makes me homesick for the South. How truly enjoyable it is to leave the TV and computer off for awhile and take an after dinner walk through a "spring scented" neighborhood or park.



Post YOUR Comments!

Please enter the code in the image above into the box
below. It is Case-Sensitive. Blue is lowercase, Black
is uppercase, and red is numeric.

Horizontal Navigator



To report problems with this page, email Webmaster

Copyright © 2002 AMEA Publications