Seasonal Poetry Prompts for Spring and Summer

poetry prompts

Poetry prompts for spring and summertime.

Poets have a long tradition of honoring the seasons by writing odes. Poetry celebrates spring and summer for bringing renewal to the land and warmth to our lives.

Rebirth is a common theme in poetry, so the spring season, with its fresh skies and new shoots, is a rejuvenating source of inspiration.

Summer is packed with sights, smells, and sounds: splashing water and fresh lemonade; hot dogs from the fair; and bike rides on the beach.

All of these things, and many more, find their way into poetry that pays tribute to the seasons that we enjoy during the warmer half of the year: spring and summer.

Poetry Prompts for Spring

Below, you’ll find three lists of words. Choose one of the lists and write a poem using all the words from the list. You can also mix and match words from different lists or try writing a poem using all the words from all the lists.

Some of the words in the list relate to spring but some do not, and you’ll have to find a way to make the poem (and the words in it) about spring.

Good luck!

Flower Buds Blue-Gray Skies Mud and Muck


Poetry Prompts for Summer

Below, you will find five lists of words. Each list pertains to one of the five senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. Choose one word from each list and write a poem that includes all five words. If you want to write a poem that appeals entirely to one sense, simply choose the list that corresponds (for example, the SMELL list) and use all the words on that list for your poem. To really challenge yourself, try writing a single poem using all the words from all the lists. That ought to really tickle the senses!

Sight Sound Smell Taste Touch
Beach ball





Buckets & Spades

Ice cream


Jelly fish



Clear blue skies


Outdoor concerts

Waves crashing


Lawn mowers

Fans (A/C)

Children playing

Ice cream truck

Bees or crickets



Suntan lotion


Ripe peaches


Freshly cut grass


Summer rain

Ice cream


Shaved ice


Iced tea


Cotton candy


Salt water taffy

Vine-ripe tomatoes

Sea (salt) water

(Gritty) sand

Feet in water


Hot concrete

Warm, hot breezes

Freshly watered (or cut) grass

Sun on your face

Wet swimsuit against skin

Did any of these prompts compel you to write a poem? How often do you use prompts to inspire your writing? Share your thoughts by leaving a comment, and keep writing (and reading) poetry!

Creative Writing Prompts

About Melissa Donovan
Melissa Donovan is a website designer and copywriter. She writes fiction and poetry and is the founder and editor of Writing Forward, a blog packed with creative writing tips and ideas.


10 Responses to “Seasonal Poetry Prompts for Spring and Summer”

  1. Ramey says:

    I’ve followed Writing Forward for quite a while and always look forward to seeing a new post on your site. Thank you for all of your great tips and resources!

    See – lightning bugs (fireflies), June bugs
    Hear – lawn mower, fans
    Smell – fresh-cut grass (wet summers like this one), parched grass (dry summers)
    Taste – vine-ripe tomatoes
    Touch – burn-your-feet-hot concrete/pavement, warm/hot breezes

  2. Cath Lawson says:

    Hi Melissa, Great idea.

    See: hanging basket
    Hear: children playing
    Smell: ripe peaches
    Taste: sea water
    Touch: freshly watered grass

  3. Laura Taylor says:

    see: clear blue skies
    hear: ice cream vans
    smell: wild flowers
    taste: strawberries and cream
    touch: water fights ! water baloons in the face !

    these are some of my childhood memories of the summer holidays growing up in the UK.

  4. Greg Cameron says:

    this is a poem working off the ‘hear’ prompt words/I’m working at a library terminal under time constraints/I, as usual, beg your indulgence –

    yesterday was thunder, rain, heaving masses of
    dark clouds
    but today the sun dispels all doubts
    it rose early
    drying the grass by noon
    lawn mowers sound
    from overlooking subdivisions
    music is blaring from convertibles
    as folks lounge on the lawn,
    the beach
    eating, drinking, waiting
    for a series of outdoor concerts
    advertised for today
    (including one Local Legend – the
    Prodigal Sun comes home!)
    the fans are all here
    braving the heat
    and the tedium of waiting
    seagull calls implore for food
    the sound of children playing
    splashing in the water
    some gather about
    the ice cream truck
    walk away dripping
    others prance in the grass
    unaware of the menace of
    buzzing bees
    hidden deep in flowers
    one boy steps down decisively
    instinct of self-preservation
    sharp pain
    the boy hops up squeals
    protests to all who will listen
    the pain
    there’s nothing else but
    the pain
    why won’t someone do something?
    the adults laugh
    perhaps remembering
    one of the band members of the
    opening act
    is tuning his guitar
    looks out upon the sea
    of people
    spots the tragedy unfolding
    smiles leans into the mike
    “Boy, it’s a hot one, eh?
    Just setting up here, folks.
    Be ready in a minute.
    I thank you for your patience.
    We love you.
    We love all of you.
    Get ready to rock…
    but just hold on a sec

    (Greg Cameron, Poem, Sept. 2010, Surrey, B.C., Canada)

  5. Kenna says:

    I reckon I’ve completely missed the boat on this, but it was such a lovely prompt, I couldn’t resist. Here it is then, and I’m terribly sorry if I’ve bothered you in some internet slumber and dragged you unwillingly over here.

    Spring, blue-gray skies.

    The harbour is cold,
    This morning.
    Colder than it should be,
    You reckon, for a proper spring.
    Foul scents rise from the
    Market stands,
    Wafting in the air above
    Dead fish whose
    Eyes are brown and glazed and
    Hard to look at for long,
    You find.
    Horses trot by,
    Pulling rich folk in shiny
    White carriages
    And you find yourself wondering
    How many rinses it’s had,
    And how much they
    (the rich folk, with their
    Bright silks and warm furs)
    Pay, to keep it like that.
    You walk on, telling
    Yourself that it’s
    Best to keep moving,
    Keep the blood pumping
    Through your veins and
    Not to think too hard,
    On things like that.
    The sky is gray,
    This morning,
    And you wish for
    Bright silks and warm furs
    And a dead fish, too,
    If only you had a fire to cook it over.
    Mostly, you wish for
    Blue skies, and for spring
    To come properly
    At last.