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History Sun Poems | Sun Poems About History

These History Sun poems are examples of Sun poems about History. These are the best examples of History Sun poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Acrostic |

Malta


Mediterranean island, where one finds so much to do
Abundant days of sunshine and the sea is limpid blue
Lavender, thyme and laurel; history spreads in rich galore
The temples, feasts, devotion bring religion to the fore.
Acclaimed for fruit and honey and the fish that’s brought to shore.

This is a friendly nation; you’ll be welcomed by a toast
To the best of health intended to last long while she’s your host.


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Contest: A poem you have not entered in a contest #5
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed: 6th


Details | Rhyme |

I Have Seen a New Dawn

I awoke this morning, before Dawns early light; the Sunshine still slept.
I took my coffee cup, out on the porch, and  for “Lenore” I  Finally wept.
The pain, the agony, years of grief: rolled down my cheeks: My Soul’s Relief.
A single ray of sunshine over the majestic purple mountains peak, peeks.
Out of this single ray of light, my Heartbeat; my Soul “ LENORE “ speaks.

“ My Dearest and Only Beloved ; I’m  sorry I left, upon our Everlasting Day.
I’ll sing to you My final Poem, before OUR Heavenly Father; bids Me to stay
I remember every Rhyme, YOU wrote For ME : Lets memorize each TIME.
GOD grants US togetherness : “ LENORE, Lets make this HOUR, OURS.
LENORE and I shared Memories, OUR POETRY : many of OUR HOURS

As I came back, from this Adventure, the morning Sun was smiling at ME.
Atop the Mighty Purple Mountain he had climbed ; I was not There to SEE.
With eyes now wider opened, I watch the warmth of the SUN racing at ME.
I feel the wind the warmth flies in on, Flowing through my Grey White Beard
I Smell the flowers growing; I see the mighty OAK Limbs wave; WEIRD.

I must Retrain my senses; To see, hear, feel : TO WRITE!! My FRIENDS
Relearn the Basic laws of Truth  and LIFE and LOVE and FEELING. 
Must Retrain my hands to write of The Beauty of Mother Earth! My FAMILY
I have to Study very Hard, my Contemporaries , to quicken the HEALING.
Then I can Write, to the ones I love; They teach me Everything  THE  POETS


Details | Free verse |

His First Love

I remember the heavy round wooden tables
Built low to the ground,
Just right for kindergartners.
He would always sit close. 

I didn't notice. 

Out-of-doors on the playground was a giant oak.
He made me an acorn pipe, then taught me how.
I made lots of acorn pipes, giving them all away;
Even his. 

He stood quiet with little fists pushed deep in his pockets.
But I didn't notice. 

The sun was golden
Shining through high windows
Down on the low round table,
Particles of dust dancing merrily on the beams. 

He handed me a present,
And as the royal blue paper with tiny pin stripes 
Crossed the sun's rays
The stripes lit up like diamonds. 

Gently opening the paper,
Careful not to lose the sparkles,
I could feel the whole class watch.
I was embarrassed. 

Inside was a book about a velveteen kitten.
She was black and feminine.
She wore a pink bow,
And she was fuzzy to the touch. 

I treasured that book.
As time went by I rubbed the kitty's fur
Until she was loved slick and smooth. 

I don't remember saying thank you.
I'm sure I did.
Surely the teacher would have reminded me;
There in front of the whole class. 

Over four decades ago - yet - 
The memory of that special gift is as clear and bright
As was the sun beam that day.
And I would like you to know Jimmy Wilson; 

That I noticed. 


Note: An old kindergarten memory to share with you. Written about 22 years ago.


Details | Pantoum |

Bronze, Silver and Gold

 
Bronze, silver and gold Caught in the sun so light The momentous reveal of every fight Wishes we are never told Caught in the sun so light Bronze faces contrite Wishes we are never told Faces much too bold Bronze faces contrite Compared to crinkled green notes Wishes we are never told Survival’s fight Compared to crinkled green notes The momentous reveal of every fight Survival’s fight Bronze, silver and gold


Details | Rhyme |

RACHAB OF JERICHO

Deliberately inching its way toward break of day,
The morning sun begins to emblazon the barley field.
Relaxing and watching the orb find its way,
The lady of the house waits for night to yield.
Like every morning, she is seated there,
Enjoying the dew scented breeze on her veranda.
Feeling its coolness on her scalp while combing her hair,
And the warmth of the rising sun becoming grander.
Her mind wanders back to the city of her birth,
Just over the rise, beyond the barley field’s treasure,
Lies the city with the most famous name on earth,
Where, in her youth, she was a lady of pleasure.

To Rachab went all of Jericho’s possession,
By decree of God, for which Achan was stoned.
For this soldier could not control his obsession,
Though aware the city’s riches were God’s own.
With God’s grace, Rachab’s wisdom grew,
And she made the city’s outskirts her spread.
Her land into a field of grain did accrue,
A breadbasket from which hordes were fed.
Her hires were the finest laborers in the land
And were busy harvesting barley all spring.
She paid the very best wage to every man,
Cause her crop was the best early rains could bring.

The fields and glades, that gave her pasture form,
Seemed sensuous in every contour and rise.
At daybreak, contrasting tones were the norm,
Painted artfully by the brightening skies.
Mounds appeared convexly round breasts,
Lovingly sculpted over a span of human girth,
Whose beauty was able to put the heart to a test,
As the machinery of memory rotates the earth.
Babbling brooks flowed from shady nooks,
Giving refreshment to denizens of land and sky,
Producing a scene of green worthy of  picture books,
That not one skilled artist would dare deny. 

Gingerly she rose the doorway torch to quench,
Watching the shrinking darkness become shadows.
Rachab calmly returns to her veranda bench,
To observe butterflies dance above the meadows.
In her dreams, she envisions a more golden age,
When royalty would be attributed to her seed.
A zephyr flows over her mind turning the page,
But she still aspires the prospect of the throne to accede.
What a lovely story to behold just beginning to dawn,
Rising out yonder, just beyond the horizon of time.
How we yearn to see that age return, now long forgone,
So our hearts may once again be joyous and sublime.  



Details | Quatrain |

Pitter Patter

Pitter patter, drip, drop, it’s not an April shower
Drip, drop, drip, drop raining hour after long hour
Suddenly the sun streaks through, javelins of sunlight
Then back to pitter, patter, and rain throughout the night.

In and out of doorways, trying to stay dry
Thunder crashing the Queens dead, the country seems to sigh
Edward the happy monarch will rule with fun from now on
Rain, rain, it never stops crying for the Old Queen is gone.

The sun breaks through the London grey, it sparkles on a tree leaf
Drops still dripping slowly, displaying all their grief.
Happy times are coming, skipping down the London streets
Children playing hopscotch, while the bobbies are on the beat.

A blossom opens a leaf unfurls, breathes the rain drops in
The first sup of clean water in these london streets so grim.
Pitter, patter, feel the rain - dodging in and out of doorways
Trying to keep dry in the summer rain as one does always.

The ringing of the bells, Big Ben strikes the hour
A begging hand from a pile of rags huddled in the shower.
The old queen is dead and gone, but wanders through her city
Looking left and right, she shakes her head in certain pity

Through London town she wanders where dirt and grime abound
She’s searching for she does not know - until it she has found
The thunder crashes the rain pours then drips slowly to an end
The queen is dead long live the King she prays his ways he’ll mend.

©~GG~ 2012 
Entry for Tracie's Anything goes competition This is a Poem I have just done for a Magazine about when Queen Victoria died. 


Details | Dramatic monologue |

A Survivor's Story

I wake up to a deserted town
"Where are the people?"
I ask myself aloud.
"Gone." answers a voice.
But no one's here...
but me.

Broken glass litters the street, 
a Kristallnacht in the making.
Houses, half gone and half standing,
specked the dirt road.

I lay, pinned to the ground by a monstrous wall...
I don't know if I'll be able to move...
but I must try. 

"Hello! Anyone there?"
No reply.... just what I thought.
As distress fills my heart,
I use that anger and helpless feeling to my advantage
and somehow
I managed to lift the heavy burden off my chest.
But this was a small victory in what seemed to be WW II.

ALAS! I remember.
This is WW II....
and the US had just dropped something...
something unusual on my town...
I'm surprised I'm still alive.

The explosion was enough to kill all of my native land, 
Japan.
But it only stopped 2 miles from the heart of my country,
Tokyo.
But no time for reminiscing. 
I must find a way out of this...
hell.

A sharp pain in my chest heaves me to the ground,
I've seen this ground so many times, face to face.
Something starts to lunge itself out of my mouth.
When I look down, I notice
that it is my own blood.

I knew I must find a hospital, quick, 
but which way was which?
Was East West? Was West South? 
Was North behind me? Was South ahead?

I sulked in defeat as I trudged along a snake-like road...
a road to nowhere. 

I grew weary, hungry, tired
but I knew I must walk on.
Every few minutes, I'll drop to my knees
and cough up my life support, 
but I couldn't let that stop me.

The sun went down,
but I didn't.
The moon rose,
I kept walking.
The sun started his day-shift, 
but I was at work all night,
counting steps and listening my heart beat.

Finally, I lost the will to live,
I wanted to die, 
I waited to die...
But death didn't come.

I spit up blood every few seconds now.
Life leaving me with every breath.
I close my eyes, and draw in my last breath.

Muffled sounds reach my ears.....
I try to look but my vision's blurred.
Everything blacks out.

"I will not be defeated" 

My vision is back.... I see people...
Everything blacks out.

"I will not be defeated"

I see their faces now, splattered with dirt and dust
Everything blacks out.

"I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED!!!!!"

I CAN SEE!

"Are you with us?!"
A desperate cry reaches my ears.
And I reply, 
"Yes. Yes I am."


Details | I do not know? |

Pleasure Is

Pleasure is.
So sweet the seasons sounds,
That makes for those summer days.
Skies make for a back drop of hues of blue,
Sweet mowing grass now sheared as hay.

Upon my face the beads of perspiration,
As I wipe my fevered brow.
The days now long as I swing forth the scythe,
High above the sun beats down.

A shout breaks my concentration,
For it is Mary who is my love.
Under a large oak tree she shelters,
Truly a pure vision from above.

For with her a wicker basket,
Its contents now lay out before.
She beckons me come forward,
Asl my senses cry out for more.

In her tender arms my head gently lies,
Beneath a canopy of green.
 Dappled sun light highlights her flowing hair,
For the world id trade, for these moments gleaned.

©N . Windle. 2009	



Details | I do not know? |

Upon this Christmas Day

He sleeps there in a stable
The babe born to the world
Both mother, father watch with care

Though swaddled in a cloth
He is born, yet, to be king
With but just rags for Him to wear

This special morning
The sun now shines bright
From stars there in the Heavens
To the rise of morning light
The world now is much brighter
As angels, too, now play
There’s hope and happiness to share
Upon this Christmas Day

For within the early morning
Angels brought the sky a voice
Calling forth those who wish to hear

Along then, came all others
Knowing truth within their hearts
That all now have nothing to fear

This special morning
The sun now shines bright
From stars there in the Heavens
To the rise of morning light
The world now is much brighter
As angels, too, now play
There’s hope and happiness to share
Upon this Christmas Day

Go forth and tell all others
Who had no chance to hear
The news of hope and of the joy

Let them know the Gift of God
That comes to save us all
His son sent as this little boy

This special morning
The sun now shines bright
From stars there in the Heavens
To the rise of morning light
The world now is much brighter
As angels, too, now play
There’s hope and happiness to share
Upon this Christmas Day


Details | Free verse |

Much Like the Sun.

 You look up to the sky.
 It is a normal summer day like any other.
 Sparse clouds line the sky and the sun beats down on you.
 Except this is no ordinary summer day.
 This is the day you ship out.
 You have said your good byes and cried with your lovers.
 The weight of your country rests upon your shoulders.
 It beats down on you much like the sun. 
 It burns you if you are not properly prepared,
 much like the sun.
 Much like the sun you are depended on by all that you known.
 Depended on by your country.
 Much like the sun,
 you fade away into the night appearing in a different country


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