These Water Sun poems are examples of Sun poems about Water. These are the best examples of Water Sun poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
The little thrill as the wave’s ripple in
Making the hairs stand up, on the surface of my skin.
The kiss of the sun with its warm breath so light
As it soothes my skin with warmth and delight.
The sand rolls around where my hands touch it soft.
The water rolls back and forth carrying pebbles aloft.
Setting shells down with rolling grains of sand
Making minute rivers run from the fingers of my hand.
The blue of the sky so pale and so pretty
On the horizon I can see the outline of the city.
Birds bob on by walking in the sand,
Not caring that I’m there lying on their land.
Curiously watching me, little eyes darting here and there
Watching for what, I don’t know or care.
A tiny emerald green beetle scuttles on past
Taking no notice of me, but from the birds, rushes on fast.
The sun is setting; it’s time to go back
The tide has come in but it needs to get back
The coastguard come out and asks so polite
Please can you move, the tide needs to leave tonight.
You have laid there so long, blocking the way
Can you please go back - so the water can flow away?
The ships need to sail and the trawlers come in
But you are blocking the way as you are not that thin.
The heart of the sea is a mother's heart
She is the great ancestral mother of all life on the planet
Deep within the mysterious waters of her womb
she conceived and gave birth to the first life form
which evolved into more complex organisms
that live on the land and in the air
She is an essential part of the planet's ecosystem
feeding the clouds which bring rain and snow
that sustain life on the earth
Through tiny ocean plants and photosynthesis
she removes carbon dioxide from the air
and converts it to more than one half of the oxygen
in the earth's atmosphere
She is the great food provider to the planet
having her own internal food chain
with tiny phytoplankton at the lower end
and enormous sharks and whales at the upper end
She feeds creatures from the land and air
that venture to fish in her waters
She is a thing of beauty even in her enraged fury
with massive waves towering over a hundred feet
and the seething white foam of her waters
This has been her action
even before the advent of man on the planet
Man must respect her behaviour
or suffer death and destruction if he does not
She is a thing of beauty in her calm stillness under the setting sun
which lights up the evening sky in its glorious splendour
and paints a glistening beam of light on the water's surface
in line with the sun and surrounds it
with brilliant colours of the rainbow
Water, Water, Everywhere
Water, water everywhere,
In yards, houses and even cars,
Animals scramble to higher ground,
Dark, Angry Clouds hover above,
Thunder belts its fury,
Spilling the depths of its rage
Upon earth's vulnerable bed,
The sun tries fighting back,
But sun is no match for water,
For water's strength wins the battle,
All surrender to its great power.
Toys, rugs, clothes and chairs succumb,
Drapes collapse from their burden,
Enough, enough earth yells out,
But there is no stopping water now.
It gushes, it rushes and races,
Like a valiant soldier it charges,
Mercilessly destroying everything,
What fury, what relentless energy!
Water laughs in the face of its victims,
Bashing, crushing and thrusting,
Leaving nothing in its way,
Water, Water, Everywhere!
In the void, sipping the zoid,
with mental properties of tripping on the spiral.
Falling down the tail of lions, awkwardly spinning.
With upside down tunnel vision leaking through.
Solidifying all matter that matters,
melting into the walls of your brain.
It tickles all the raindrops dripping in your eyes,
satisfying your desire of a synchronized pattern.
Bleeding purple from the rainbow,
and turning into swirls of diamonds.
Slipping exuberantly beside you; driving you wild.
Where the shadows stop the spirited scream.
Devour yourself into the omniscient grip.
Icy cold finger tips scratch the surface of your divinity,
bringing you closer to the God who whispered in your unborn ear,
situated in your flesh from birth to death.
It embeds itself in the pupil of your eye,
dancing with your spirit and licking your soul.
Black shapes of madness wrapped in chaos and euphoria.
Twinkling and blinking dust of a cloud.
Haze filled skies and blood filled smoke raining from the clouds.
Envisions of clowns and demons laughing at our demise.
Chilling sensations of sickening mannerisms,
mechanisms and mechanics sought out to destroy the tiny creatures.
These creatures running crazy into acceptance of demise.
Deprived of life, scared of death but giving into it's taste.
Taste buds quiver as the taste grows sweeter.
Death, oh death, tell everyone who you really are...
Too long have you been hidden in the shadows you cast,
too long have we rendered your pain.
The world grows sicker as the hairs in my head grey.
I'll never surrender as demons always circle.
Today, begins a new day of our fight.
And I have a good feeling about this day.
Onward, we have united our minds and gathered ourselves within.
Always ready for we accept our fear.
We accept our hate and everything in between.
Accept it all for what it really is.
No amount of doubts will over throw us.
Onward, to peace.
They walked together side by side -
the old man and the boy
on the bridge across the river
They could have walked thus
across the river of life
with its eternal flow
I watched them
and thoughts filled my mind
of the un-bridged gap
between their lives
The old man -
with faltering step
he moves slowly on
His life has been lived
and his house is in order
as he patiently awaits
the call of his maker
What are his thoughts
at this moment
as he moves on?
Are they thoughts of pain and sorrow
over some incident in the past
so difficult to bear
that after all these years
the wound is not yet healed?
Are they of someone he loved as a youth
but lost through folly?
Was she beautiful?
Did her eyes sparkle
like the sunlight
on the water below?
He looks at the water
and nods his head
Or is he thinking of the young one at his side
soon to be plunged into a world
where life rushes madly on?
How shall he fare?
Who will warn him of the pitfalls?
These thoughts plague the old man's mind
and hurt his noble heart
But then he smiles as he remembers
that in his younger days
his eager spirit wanted to taste and feel
the sting of life's joys and sorrows
There is no substitute for experience
for though we know we may be hurt
in love or life
yet we walk on toward the very thing
that may hurt us so
clear cool blue water
the sunshine hot on my back
flip flops in the sand
I glimpse the tidal waves, rise high,
Sweaty brows drip, a dry.
surf boarders and dipper are so many,
dolphin rides touts coerce you for just a few penny.
red vested lifeguards always on their toes,
A breath of relief, the tippling tourists, their number grows.
ripples, sounds a melody repeat,
artisan, tests his percussion cask to a beat.
A robe draped lass, captures her lover,
sun, its rays darkens the picture ,above it hover.
Reshoots she, from another angle,
smiling lover’s flushed face she manages to wrangle.
hi-tide shack perched a high,
view is great and the breeze zips by.
distant travelers they bathe in the sun,
Some on the sand , others swelter drip their as they run.
Balding head darts, reflects its gleam,
the scorching sun and the skin cream.
The peddling tribal woman with an orange drape,
family cuddling a little one, the sun to escape.
young woman, alone she walks,
stray young man I think he stalks.
tattoo on his arm seem so strong,
They are lovers, I know I am wrong.
The flower powered oldie, walks with his guitar strung back,
A bag in his hand &stuff he puts aside on the beach rack.
a hulk walks by, in nickered blacks,
To the percussion maker’s shack can see his sandy tracks.
bikini clad lady, dart towards a fella,
blueness of her robe shades her name tattooed, Isabella.
chat they seem to have and away he’s gone,
kicks some sand and wades back to her beach chair all alone.
Past noon and ebbing are the tides,
dippers galore and can see them lying in the watery sides.
eagle sweeps and glides a close,
chasing birds are but a murder of black crows.
tall blond man ducks in the water he ambles,
With a bulging tummy ,it rumbles.
thatched roof stays the sunlight on me,
blue clothed ceiling textures the sky and the sea.
dark Indian lass, aglow on her face,
heat rays redden her skin ablaze.
Hurriedly she moves to the thatched shack.
Her lover here rubs lotion on to her back.
Cattle herds , see them stroll the sandy water,
An English couple walks away from the boat with their daughter.
Beneath the beach umbrella a man cleans his shades,
The strong breeze its trapped around him under the glades.
An hour has gone by and my throat is all dry,
Sparkling water I gulp down the bottle with the blink of an eye.
Content is my heart for this passionate poem I create,
Good or bad , you can choose to debate.
Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.
The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.
"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.
Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.
The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.
Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?
Scent Of Paddy Flower
By Goutam Hazra
My father told me
I was just a boy then,
“Follow the scent of paddy flower
move with the wind it carries,
surely you will go to heaven.”
he would catch
fistful of wind
bring near to my face
“Isn’t it godly!”
Magically, opened his hand
but I never felt
what scent he meant.
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
“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,
“Goddess will arrive smiling
her feet will be here
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
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
green wind brining life
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
with the scent of paddy flower.”
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
to bring me here.
Desert wind why
dry my breath
seeds you have sown
how could I then
enliven with my rain.”
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
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.
as a cloudburst
like an unkind monster
in the life of a simple farmer?
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.
Does not this civilization
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’.
but I found the basic
what it remain
as life’s supreme conviction
‘simply a fist full of paddy
and its grain’.
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
with the scent of paddy flower.”
I never felt so,
what I smell now
is the scent of paddy flower.
Water lapping at edge of the boat beneath the silence of the sky
Swaying branches of mopane trees and fish eagles cry
Wind of changing seasons and melting palates of hue
in the blood red sunset glow and murky silvery water blue
Elephants in numbers dot the shores
hippo’s and crocodiles are at the core
of many memories and visions of old
Lake Kariba, in land sea
full of tiger fish and bream
The endless blue that roles into the distance
where the sun rises and falls in panoramic vista
The skeletons of petrified monuments scattered in the sea
forests of pre historic trees swaying in the breeze
It wasn’t always peaceful, tranquil, and still
nature has no chance to relax and withdraw
Scheming and dreaming in the depths of men’s mind
Up Up Up goes the building and climbs
Man made dam, Damn big problem
How could this feet of engineering the power of ages old be so easy
to tame such a wild beast as the zambezi
POURING OUT THE CONCERT
RAMMING THE RODS OF STEEL
DRIVING THE WATER BACK INTO THE HILLS
HOWEVER, THE RIVER REFUSED TO YEILD
THE WALL BEGAN TO TIP, BUCKLE, AND KEEL
NOT ONCE, TWICE, WATER MARCHED THROUGH
LIKE A FACELESS WARRIORS, DESTROYING THE BARRIER
THE FORCE OF THE RIVER WOULD NOT BE SUBDUED
LIKE ALL NATURAL EVENTS, THE WAVES BEGAN TO SUBSIDE
THE SOLDIERS OF BLUE WITHDREW
UP WENT THE WALL, COMPLETED, IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME
Animals and people lost in the rising tide
from river, to dam, to lake to inland sea
Great and panoramic became the horizon wide
Like a whisper on the edge of wind
was a grand concert of ages gone by
Played out by wildlife, land, water, and sky
A harmonic existence of sublime serenity
Life here brings closure to one’s perspective
the sent of dust and adventure is quiet infective
The place of the skeleton trees, mountain passes, and copper sun still
where the stars in the universe, scatterings like lost thoughts, visions, and chants chill
across the forging path, that strides through this african wilderness blue
Lake Kariba, the artery of the north, run straight, run true.