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Philosophy Sun Poems | Sun Poems About Philosophy

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

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Details | Free verse |

Discovery

  i cannot count enough stars 
   to tell how many shine in your eyes 
     nor can i gather into one 
     the brilliance of the sun 
      that your warmth brings 
       though the sun and stars pass 
        beyond and beyond 
         all things that last 
          i'll meet you in that discovery


Details | I do not know? |

Freedom from the Wall

Clouds unite
they end all fight
darkness prevails
the bride with no veil
to see with no eyes
why do we despise
as the world does turn
our minds they do churn
thinking too much
my mind loses clutch
and the wall does grow
so high i cannot throw
my words at your mind
they fall short then behind
frustration sets in
as the sun goes to fin
the darkness will win
not i as this is my sin
i will glance with no stare
find the pain that is there
and the wind will be fair
as it carries my prayer
one day you will feel
what i meant to steal
as the darkness will peel
my pain from this real
communicate i cant
i try but its faint
i turn on my pain
i turn on my pain
i turn on my pain
i cannot regain
i want to show the day
that the sun will remain
as the clouds unite
they don't end all fight
it is i that must cite
it is i that must fight
for only i can prevail
only minds can grow stale
if not used you will trail
if not used you will fail
if not seen its your grail
if not noticed your in hell
i will try to tell all
i must try to not fall
only you will be seen
in my eyes of ever clean
that the tears will one day fall
down my cheek in all glory
as they will be of not pain
but rejoice as i gain
and rejoice we shall reign
to the water of no shame
as i finally can blame
no one else for my rain
and all the world will see
it was i that was freed
it was i with no creed
that was released to bleed


Details | Rhyme |

Earthly Colors

Terra cotta, craggy rocks
Scattered boulders, building blocks
In shades of sienna, ochre, buff
To form this high and hilly bluff
With sunlit ledges thin and wide
Place for hyraxes to sun and hide

Cerulean, azure, clearest blue
The cloudless sky that does imbue
Aquamarine lake, with cobalt tints
To gently ripple with sparkling hints
Of gleaming, flashy, silvery scales
With speckled bodies and stripy tails

Chartreuse, dappled, shades of green
Of forest, jade and so serene
Leafy, verdant canopy high
With soft and breezy, gently sigh
While down below in shades of lime
Fragrant flowers so sublime

Scented blossoms in fuchsia flush
And ripening berries in magenta blush
And poppies scarlet, crimson reds
Among saffron yellow daisy heads
With tangerine buds on sage green stems
And luminous violets these little gems

While in the distance, misty rose
Of lavender mountains in repose
Against a background, lilac-puce
And threadlike clouds not yet profuse
Blending into salmon pink
As the sun begins to sink

Plain glass inside the window frame
Now stained with colors of fiery flame
The last rays of sunlight on the glass
In incandescent reflecting rays of brass
And the ethereal golden radiance of day
Passing into evening’s own bouquet


Details | Lyric |

Moon Dance

The waves slide over the shore
Leaving tiny, squiggly trails
The moon and sun battle for the sky
And the big, bright moon prevails.
The beach is shrouded in darkness
Dimmly lit by only one light
That dances through the undertow
Marching its way through the plight.
A stencil of gray laces the sky
Creating a vision of death
Slowly overcoming the shore
'Til it takes its last breath.
The ocean itself which had once held
So much life in its depths
Has become drowned in its own contents
It is meeting its own death.
A storm lashes its way
Solmnly across the sky
To make room for what will unleash
That will cause the very moon to cry.
Dancing and waltzing across the shore,
The moon sadly turns away
She can't bear to see her ocean like this
And witness it going astray.
With one, final, swift motion, 
She casts her love out to sea
The love she held deeply for her ocean
The world, and all her countries.
She makes her way back to where she belongs
And lets the sun take over the sky
I didn't, in all my years,
Think I would ever see the moon cry.
But she shed those tears so bravely
And dried them so nonchalant
She turned and made her way back to the sky 
Like it was something she could never want.
The moon had lost the battle
And, defeated, began to fade away
Then the sun began to dance, too
To celebrate a brand-new day.



 










Details | Crystalline |

WHATEVER HAPPENS LIFE HAS TO MOVE ON

THE SUN IS RISING BREAKING THE DAWN
SPREADING HIS HANDS ON THE WRITING DESK

THE CLOCK IS SCREAMING WAKING US UP
FULLFILLING IT’S YESTERDAY ASSINGED JOB

THE CALENDAR IS CALLING TO LOOK AT IT
MENTIONING THE NEXT 24 HOURS OF OUR LIFETIME

THE FLOWER IS SMILING WITH CHARM
EVEN AFTER KNOWING IT WOULD DIE THAT DAY

ONE MAYBE STANDING INFRONT OF THE CLASS
WHERE THE OTHER GET APPLAUSE BY TEACHER

ONE MAYBE PROMOTED AS THE TEAM LEADER
WHERE THE OTHER GOT FIRED BY THE MANAGER

ONE MAYBE IN 1ST POSITION IN BIKE RACING
WHERE THE OTHER IS IN ICU BY BIKE ACCIDENT

ONE MAYBE IN SAFER SIDE DURING EARTHQUAKE
WHERE THE OTHER IS RECOVERING FROM THE LOSS

ONE MAYBE LUCKY ENOUGH TO ENJOY TRUE LOVE
WHERE THE OTHER IS STRUGGLING TO EXPRESS IT

ONE MAYBE TRANSFERRING LUMPS OF BLACK MONEY
WHERE THE OTHER IS SAVING FOR DAILY BREAD

WE MAYBE THE ONE OR THE OTHER
FOR EVERYONE THE SUN RISES BREAKING THE DAWN
WHATEVER HAPPENS LIFE HAS TO MOVE ON…


Details | Epic |

Scent of Paddy Flower

Scent Of Paddy Flower

                                   By Goutam Hazra

           1
Reminiscence

My father told me 
first time 
I was just a boy then,
“Follow the scent of paddy flower
move with the wind it carries,
surely you will go to heaven.”

I remember
he would catch 
fistful of wind
bring near to my face
and wonder,
“Isn’t it godly!”

Magically, opened his hand
but I never felt
what scent he meant.
            
             2
Days of kind rain

“Son, see the misty wind
rushing all over the paddy field
comes every year
to drink the scent of paddy flower.”

Mere as a boy
I could see only
tides of a green plane
touching my little finger
and racing far… too far.
I would ask  
“Where have they gone?”
Smiled my father 
and said
“Did not you listen,
they are going to heaven,
call the goddess then,
‘come goddess dear’
we all are ready with paddy flower.”




Curious was my face,
“Papa, then?”

“Goddess will arrive smiling
her feet will be here
there
everywhere.
Seeing a pot in her hand
all those paddy flowers
delighted, will open their mouth more wider
and life will be poured…”

“Where these flowers come from?”

Remained my father smiling
speaking all his mind
looking high at sky
asked me to see there
spoke he again.

“Rain, rain, kind monsoon rain
on the first day of its shower
kind rain would ask me to come here
with bagful of paddy seeds,
‘let seeds be spread all over,
let its eternal relation with soil
be the fertilizer’
when all said is done
waiting rain 
starts showering its kind
make visible hiding life in the abyss of seed.
Happy wind changes color
being green all around
waits for the day
when the wind would smell the scent of paddy flower.”

Days passed by,
kind rain was still in waiting
sometimes hidden beyond horizon
or simply making sun blind with its smoky face
and whenever wind said,
‘Dry I’m now’
quenched the thirst.

Someday wind played naughty with sun
asked kind rain to make it misty
and with brushes of sun rays 
painted a rainbow on the face of east sky.


Wait was over
green field blossomed with flowers
and wind said,
“Fill in my heart
with scent of flower
I shall bring life…”

Happy was my father’s voice
“Rain, rain, kind monsoon rain
said so
green wind brining life 
did so
scent of paddy flower
is made so.
Bare footed be here
print your soul
in the dust of this soil
kind rain will come
green wind being there
life will be yours 
beautiful
simple
with the scent of paddy flower.”
           
             3
Cruel entropy

How old was I then
nine or ten
my father looked up
up to the sky
again and again
for a month long
only to see 
change of sky’s color
from the color of a summer day to a long humid night.
Dry wind cried at last
over my father’s sweating body
“Rain, rain O kind rain, where have you gone.”

One day sudden
kind rain came again.
Cried to my father
“Why no green wind came this year
from ocean 
to bring me here.
Desert wind why
dry my breath
seeds you have sown
how could I then
enliven with my rain.”

Question 
many question
my father had asked the rain.

Short-lived, hurried rain could spell its last breath,
“I am not that rain 
as was your friend,
I am the curse of dying forest
I am the ghost of all pollution
I am born out of acid weather…”

Who knew, it left for where?

My father cried 
As kind rain left him alone
hiding in a dry wind’s bone.

My father was still
going every morning
asking the soil
in vain
if soil could alone
make the paddy flowers to be born.

Year passed by,
came back the time, 
for green wind to bring kind rain.

Rain came one day.

But why
as a cloudburst
treacherous
roaring always
pouring unwanted
like an unkind monster
flooded misery
in the life of a simple farmer?
           
            4
Relinquishment

Dumb remained my father
for days together
sad was his voice at last,
“Run away, son, run away from here,
sky rain wind
river village land;
thread of this garland
who cuts it
go, stop now there hand.”

Draught and flood,
uncertainty of life 
changed my mind 
as of a farmer’s son.
Books, studies and education
reasons, truth and compassion
might have had fulfilled my father’s mission.

But… 
Does not this civilization
converts us 
as the products to do more production.
Run, run and run 
run ahead of time
let be it, at the cost of inhaling killer tension,
stress taking  over your life.
Insomnia, cholesterol or cynicism
is our success’s companion? 
‘A’ is shaped as ‘B’
and ‘B’ is sold as ‘C’.
Modification
innovation
sophistication
but I found the basic
what it remain
as life’s supreme conviction 
‘simply a fist full of paddy
and its grain’.

             5
Scent of life

So here, I am again
standing in front of this green plane
searching for the shadow of my father.
Green wind surrounds my existence
I can see the dance of those bunches.
My mind whispers to my ear
echoes those words of my father, 
“Bare footed be here
print your soul
in the dust of this soil
rain will come
green wind being there
life will be yours 
beautiful
simple
with the scent of paddy flower.”

I never felt so,
what I smell now 
is the scent of paddy flower.




















Details | Narrative |

The Median Death of the Red Delicious

“God bless us all when the door is shut behind us, 
only then will we breathe our first breath,
and awake 
from the long dream…”


Forging past the indisputable summit onto the 
shelf of the perfect medium (ah, ‘tis noble here!)
he sits, contemplating his balance. He does not sweat. 

The winds breath breaks upon his predestined neck, 
bestowing the gift of lily white scent upon a lapel that’s 
stiff, yet pliable – just stiff enough. A 72 degree sun 

shines its neutrality, (fueling his desire for nothing at all, 
just the concept of sun giving heat, like a heartbeat, 
unnoticed in its certainty) upon his stagnant face. 
He is wearing his favorite pants (soft, worn jeans with 

a little give, but not enough so that he forgets to hold 
in his stomach), and from the ample pocket, he takes 
an apple. It is a Red Delicious. Not quite living up to its 
name, but unassuming and secure in its redness – he eats. 

It’s not the best apple he’s ever had, but its good enough. 
The vultures, native to this coveted desert waste circle, 
vying for the core of his Non-Delicious, yet edible fruit. 
And as he Bites into the last white taste of just fine, a glint 

of sunlight flashes briefly – like infinity within dreams, 
off of the vultures black eyes. And all at once he knows – 
everything is. The death birds orbit the terracotta desert 
peek (red and inviting in its dry and unforgiving reality), 

the bird turns away so fast after catching his eye, 
he forgets that he’d ever seen its pulsing recognition. 
The forgettable sunset mollifies him - sedates him,
pacifying his every forgettable non-movement.

It is then, when the last dripping light of day descends 
behind the obvious rock mount; the definite edge 
of darkness falls. Shadows creep slowly and quickly
across the terrestrial rock spine, (engulfing its redness

in its totality) leaving just the remnants of burgundy
skin between yellowing teeth, and a deafening black desert. 
As the sound of raucous wings and ripping jeans dominates
the guttural desert - the vultures take their coveted prize.


*Reposted for Deborah's Something Wicked This Way Comes, Wickedness Contest. :)


Details | Ballade |

It's here at last

It’s here at last

At last the spring is really here
The weather’s warm and sweet
The doves up in the seed trays coo
As so peacefully they eat
The fountain plays a melody
As wispy clouds up in the sky
 They form in me these images
As the morning passes by

Geraniums in their many hues
They shine out in the sun
The dog runs round with rubber bone
He’s having heaps of fun
The mulberry tree is so alive
She loved that winter rain
She knows as she grows her baby shoots
That the rain was not in vain.

The washing hanging on the hoist
Gives out such sweet perfume
One would think the gentle rose
Was close with tender bloom
Mauve hibiscus dances softly
Within the cooling breeze
And all of this portrayed together
It gives my mind such ease.

9 September 2013 @ 1924hrs.


Details | Cowboy |

On Juno Ranch, A Cowboy's Day

If you'd have lived and worked on Juno Ranch, you’d have come away better for it. It 
may not have seemed like it at the time but Pancho (Uncle Frank) would put it to you, an’ it 
was for you to decide to do it, what to do with it, or to fight. The motto was, “You either work 
or fight, there ain’t no quittin’ on this-here ranch.”

     Pancho cultivated a reputation as a living legend in his fifty-some years in the Devil’s 
River country of the Texas frontier. He loved his life, family, work and felt plumb lucky to be 
livin’ it. He believed there was art in every undertakin’ an’ practiced the highest standards in 
dealin’ with any an’ all comers. He savvied horses, cattle an’ the land; and death was just the 
gate that opened into higher pastures.

     Ride 'em Pancho!


The cowboy wakes before each dawn With blurry eyes n'a mournful yawn; Gets breakfast down, just bacon'n eggs, An' biscuits dunked in coffee dregs. He feeds the stock some oats an' hay In growin' light of break o' day. Then Pancho comes an' rigs a hoss, An' chews his butt, 'cause he's the boss. “The sun is up, you little bride! We're loosin' light! We gotta ride!” So they ride out to make their rounds In echoed clops of hoof-beat sounds. The sun is high 'bout half-passed noon, An' dinnertime is none too soon. He eats his beans an' taters fast, Then rolls a smoke an' rests at last. He dreams of how he'll spend his pay When he's in town on Saturday, An' where he'll go to have some fun With gals who'll laugh and call him, "Hun..." He gets his hat an' pulls it down, Forgets the dream of gals in town, Cause if he ain't just damn near dead, The work comes first on Pancho's spread.


Details | Ballade |

Questions for everyone

Questions for everyone

Has anybody ever sat? 
In a garden filled with flowers
Have you felt the magic there?
Have you felt the power?
Have you sat there with the body still?
And the mind too, just the same?
Have you ever lost yourself?
As the mind stopped playing games

Have you seen those magic colours?
And really seen them too!
Have you felt the touch of the morning breeze?
Have you seen the way she do?
Touch those branches with her glory
Make them dance in the morning sun
As the sparkles nearly blow your mind
And you’re the holy one?

Have you ever heard the dove’s warm Coo
And that deep, deep ravens croak?
Have you seen the mulberry tree?
As she dons her summers coat?
And radiance and reverence
Are all that one can know
Have you ever sat there in the garden?
And watched the morning flow.


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