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Sun Son Poems | Sun Poems About Son

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

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Details | Narrative | |

Potawatomi's Beginning...

The story I have to tell- was told long ago to me, 
About the creation of the Potawatomi Nation; 
In the beginning the Creator made Anishabe, 
And the Creator told Anishabe to name all of his creations,
 Anishabe set out with a wolf, his companion, 
And he went around naming everything; 
From the mountains and the canyons, 
To the Summer and the Spring; 
He became lonely realizing, he alone had no mate,
 And as he traveled everywhere searching, 
He traveled towards the Great Lakes;
 And there he heard a woman singing, 
Her song was a thing of beauty, 
About the home she was making for them;
 Anishabe crossed the lake to meet her, finally, 
The daughter of the Firekeeper-And quite a gem 
Their’s was the first unity bond, It is where life came from; 
Of each other they were inordinately fond;
 Their union gave life to four sons,
 Each of their sons went a different way, 
The First son traveled North, it’s color is White, henceforth;  
Given the first gift of the Creator-sweet grass-braided in a bouquet, 
He married the daughter of the Spirit of the North; 
The second sun traveled East, into the rising sun, 
He learned that fire is the essence of life; 
He was given the second gift-herbs to speak with the One,
East is the color Yellow, East’s daughter became his wife; 
The third son traveled South, known as “The Way of The Woman”, 
The way of seeds and all that give life, the color of South is Red; 
He was given the gift of cedar-to purify and prepare food for his clan 
And to the daughter of the Spirit of the South he was wed.
 The last son traveled west, towards the mountain highlands, 
He learned that the setting sun represents the circle of life; 
Black is the color of West-Sage was the gift for his hands,
 Married to the Spirit of the West’s daughter, Black stands for strife. 
This is the story of the Creator, That my Grandmother told to me,
 How my culture was started, And what our banner means.

~I've been holding on to this a while-Hope you enjoy the beginning of my culture~

~3rd Place in the "Broad Horizons" Contest by Deborah Guzzi~


Details | Quintain (English) | |

if you crossed ELVIS with michael jackson you'd get michael presley or vice

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET

‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child anyway
It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  

I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I may ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me

Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 

I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be

The term “shelter” means different things to different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance

To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb

Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  
                © 2011.….free cee!

 








Details | Quintain (English) | |

i NEED a quarter o, i AM sorry I MEANT A QUART OF VODKA

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET

‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child anyway
It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  

I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I may ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me

Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 

I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be

The term “shelter” means different things to different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance

To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb

Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  
                © 2011.….free cee!

 








Details | Free verse | |

Sleepily

the Father visits his son in the dark of day
The son is abed, pale in the light of night
For the sun and moon are witness in this hour of twilight
But the sun is not heat and does not shine as bright
And the moon is not rigid rock
The sun is a warm hope, fading ever so slightly
The moon is softness, the dark is soothing

The son is abed, covers sprawled over his listless form
The son is restless, he doth not sleep
The son is ebbing, his heart does weep
and his Father lifts the covers up tight around his chest
and kisses his brow;
The son blinks wearily, smiles wanly, whimpers meekly

Sleep my son, the Father whispers

But I cannot sleep - Sleep eludes him
I want to play - Rest prances about him
close enough to want, just out of reach
And how can I sleep father? - How can he rest atop this fated bed?
When I wish to wake? - When his heart doth weep restlessly?

the Father wavers, he caresses the son's brow, but not his heart
For the heart is within, the caress without,
Rest my son, he says, rest and forget
The Father, gently, lovingly, pulls the covers up, tight around the son's neck

But father, father why
My heart will not sleep
Five more minutes? Just five.

Sleep son, the hour is late, the time is neigh

And the Father, always lovingly, he pulls the covers tight over the son, and lowers him into 
the ground.


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 | Lyric | |

in the southern sun

He said
Look at here boy
Aint nothing worst than life
But you might as well live
And times are coming 
For better or worse 
You might as well hold on 
 
I’m still here 
And until I die 
I’ll be the same man
He says 
Boy I’m still here
And until I die 
I’ll be the same man 

I said father
I’m going to move away from the river
I’m going to be a city man
He said, sun down, it’s getting late
And you’ll have all night to chase those dreams
He said son now
Your mother calls so goodnight

I’m still here
And until I die
I’ll be the same man
He says 
Boy I’m still here

He wasn’t my real father I can’t even call him that 
Around a southern sun he marched in a straw hat
It’s a hundred degrees outside he must be crazy
Seventy-six and he takes on the humidity 
Better than me

He says 
World war II was nothing new
You should’ve seen Vietnam 
He says you see boy
I’m still here
And until I die
I’ll be the same man

RIP S.G.


Details | Quintain (English) | |

if YOU CROSSED a FLAMINGO with a DUCK WHAT WOULD YOU GET

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET

‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child IN any way
It can be a sadistic son and IT will teach you how  

I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I MAY ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me

Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 

I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be

The term “shelter” means different things for different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance

To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb

Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  
                © 2011.….free cee!

 








Details | I do not know? | |

Sun

Smoking spitter,
Hell is where is holiday,
We watch you stare us down,
Falling, but held in heaven's black old town,

Son of no father,
Father of everyone,

Is your kind of fire in my kind of heart?,
We are all born blind,
So do we all shine from the start?,

Sitting between the shine and shade,
Am I the "We" that you forbade?,
Watching you stare down,
Falling...
Still in heaven's black old town,
We just wait... for heaven's sundown,
We, as babies on the ground


Details | Dizain | |

Story Time

In storybooks, my son and I chase dreams to magical wonderlands near and far. Catching rainbows on a golden sun beam, we stop to wish upon a shooting star and find fairies glowing inside a jar. Clues come to life and a big red dog plays. Adventures come to ordinary days. Mother Goose entertains us with a rhyme, And heroes chase villains high on sun rays. Books skip through a boy's mind at story time.


Details | Quintain (English) | |

a bRIDgE OVeR A RIver quiet

  A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET

‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child anyway
It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how  

I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I may ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me

Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast 

I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be

The term “shelter” means different things to different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance

To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb

Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day August we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood  
                © 2011.….free cee!

 









Details | Lyric | |

I Finally Understand Why You Can't Go Home Again

The sun never shines here in south town
It’s only covered up
by a dust of regrets and letdowns
that i can never come clean of

the shadows dance in the alleyways
the darkness plays in the sun
the children all searching to find a way
for these shades of gray to be fun

we've been living on the wrong side of town
for way, way to long
we are lost when we wake up
still lost when we lay down
and i think it's time we find our way out

lately I’ve begun to notice
things haven’t changed at all
they are all the same
as they were when I was small

maybe my eyes have changed
maybe my life is stained
maybe I can’t understand
why the colors drain and the sun dims

maybe we've been living on the wrong side of town
for way, way to long
we are lost when we wake up
still lost when we lay down
and i think it's time we find our way out


Details | Lyric | |

Under The Tangerine Sky

life is full of choices and chances single’s dances and double romances life moves on while stories are told time can’t be bought, it’s only sold there’s a light that dims each passing day of Sons and Daughters lost along the way Somewhere under the Tangerine Sky it's near impossible to read his face never met the man he tries to replace too high the gamble too high is the cost another year taken and another year lost life moves on while the stories turn gray of Sons and daughters lost along the way Somewhere under the Tangerine Sky He’s a ghost from the coast under the hot desert sun the mercury rises and the air is dry bye and bye Somewhere under the Tangerine sky A faded shadow standing in the wind no longer the man he had once been wandering lost and all alone, the price he pays for all the wrong More and more memories fade away of sons and daughters lost along the way Somewhere under the tangerine sky He's a ghost from the coast under the hot desert sun the mercury rises and the air is dry bye and bye Somewhere Under the Tangerine Sky
(repeat chorus) written by Warner Baxter One Knight Stand Productions all rights reserved


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Moment Shared

As the sun rises on the distant horizon like a match spark that is thrown into a 
bonfire...a bonfire saturated in an accelerant...Bright red casting color onto the 
dark ominous clouds chasing them away..May I depend on the Son today to 
chase all problems, fears, anxieties into a place of non-existence.  In so doing 
my life will be fuller, happier and there will be contentment of heart and 
mind..Over on the horizon it seems that the clouds are gone and the sun is 
shining brightly but over me the clouds linger with dampness and cool air..The 
cool morn is a glorious good time to think and work.The son is rising up farther 
now and the clouds are closing in on it...There is one streak of the sun in a 
break in the clouds that looks like a lazar beam flashing forth..There's 
something about this moment and configuration of the heavenlies that is so 
soothing to my spirit...This moment will pass into eternity...Will I be the only 
one that shared this color, design, and precise moment with God and the 
angels...


Details | Free verse | |

The Calling Sun

These walls are blinding,
Holding no reflection, 
Revealing no tone, shade, or hue.
Swallowing all life and personality within.

These walls are weighted with sadness and neglect.
Wonders and horrors of the world barred off.
Alone she sits, needle at bedside.
Along with the spark in her eyes this four-cornered room has long since gone dark.

Her sun once brightened her world,
Illuminating the four-cornered abyss.
But alas, the night always comes for the day's bright sky.
Alone he sits, at her bedside,
He's lost her again hasn't he?
Day breaks, the sun is rising,
A little boy calls for his mother to come home.