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Best Sky Poems

Below are the all-time best Sky poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of sky poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Sky Poem | |

Closer

    The sky resembles the robin's eggshells
                                                      scattered across the ground,

a blue so seemingly infinite                     yet fragile,
cracks running between understanding and madness
 
       complementing each other

as divine truths in their own right
to conquer my mind,
to unhinge the doors,
making it unnecessary to pick rusted locks

      letting thoughts fly free,
                                       releasing love out into the horizon.

If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations,
      it will surely die,
                 but even so,
  I was willing to strangle it by holding on too tightly.

    
    Until I saw the sky and eggshells today


      Peppered clouds reflected on the water,
                                            paralleling speckles on the eggshells,
                                    remind me of the freckles on your face.

  We need to be wide-open-free,
                                                we need to fly,
         without focusing too hard on shells of yesterdays.

We need to unclench our fists,
unclench our tongues,
explore the vast blue peppered sky 
                                                 
                                                      on wings of letting go....

 so that we can once again feel with purity,       
 so that we can hold each other ever closer.







05.24.12

Details | Sky Poem | |

Kiss Mark of the Sun


When the sun sets and says its sweet goodbye,
It leaves an immense kiss mark on the sky,
A promise that it’ll return tomorrow,
To take away all our fears and sorrow.

Its kiss mark is dappled with lavender,
Birds hover above  to feel its wonder,
The silhouettes of mountains and the trees,
An art of prosperity, joy and peace.

Its kiss mark is in hue of pink and red,
A fiery love of God sent with roses,
Feel its tranquility and its warmness,
Panacea on worries that come ahead.

Crimson sky is the kiss mark of the sun,
A dazzling beauty since the world  begun.

May 19, 2013


First Place
Contest: Crimson Sky
Judged: 5/19/2013
Sponsor: Poet Skat

First Place
Contest: Your Best 2013
Judged: 1/7/14
Sponsor: My loving greatest poet, PD

Details | Sky Poem | |

Changing Sky

Come, watch with me my darling child, before you go to bed
Here, hold my hand, while evening comes and takes the day away
Evening shadows tiptoe to what the sun has said
And now it's time to listen,  to what the moon will say

Here, hold my hand, while evening comes and takes the day away
We'll watch the sun dip gently,  in the cooling twilight air
And now it's time to listen,  to what the moon will say
All the daytime weary creatures, have gone to nest and lair

We'll watch the sun dip gently in the cooling twilight air
Let's be witness to the fire that burns in evening's sky
All the daytime weary creatures, have gone to nest and lair
While twilight paints it's crimson colors on a canvas vast and wide 

Let's be witness to the fire that burns in evening's sky
Time suspends as if one moment, in this fragile hush of time
While twilight paints it's crimson colors on a canvas vast and wide 
And then we'll see the faintest trace of stars begin to climb

Time suspends as if one moment, in this fragile hush of time
So gently, watch the dark erase the last of fading light
And then we'll see the faintest trace of stars begin to climb
Enclosing us within the change,  of shadows of the night

So gently, watch the dark erase the last of fading light
Evening shadows tiptoe to what the sun has said
Enclosing us within the change,  of shadows of the night

Come, watch with me my darling child, before you go to bed...


____________
6//26/13

Details | Sky Poem | |

Kindred Spirits

~(tanka haibun)~


    Awakened from my walking reverie by movement ahead, I spy a Red-Tailed Hawk perched upon the wrought-iron railing of the flood-wall. The hawk is regal, stoic beauty. I stop walking in hopes of urging the bird of prey to stay its perch. It does, filling me with a sense of relief. I wonder why it let me get so close; if it was my calm, thoughts-up-in-the-clouds, meditative stroll that somehow rendered my thoughts and steps silent enough to catch the bird unawares. We eye each other, a bitter gust of mid-winter wind blows against my face; ruffles the back-feathers of the hawk. I am overwhelmed by a sensation how the two of us know exactly what we are, who we are, what we are supposed to be doing overall, but we are presently caught in a moment of unknowns, letting these unknowns erase the lines that keep us separate -- beast from human. 
I take a step closer, causing the hawk to finally alight, and I am struck by its vibrant feathers adding a dash of colour to the surrounding monochromatic grays. 
The hawk flies only a short distance ahead before landing on the railing again, so we re-enact the scene of this play. I come closer, closer, closer, until the hawk lifts up, flies a bit further along the river-walk, before landing again, until eventually it probably decides, that indeed, this human is going to traverse the entire path, for the hawk flies up into trees located further ahead. As I walk past the trees, the hawk launches out of an evergreen, with twigs in its talons. The bird flies over the river; a river made tumultuous by ice-melt.

in Winter's gray light
a Red-Tailed Hawk paints the sky 
with its feathers,
my soul lifts, follows the bird
over an ice-gorged river

The hawk lands on the base of a church steeple, and disappears behind an ornately carved corner. It appears as if the steeple is attempting to pierce the snow-clouds with its tip, trying to tear gashes in the sky, until spring blue bleeds into gray. On this Tuesday afternoon, does the church seem personified because it is devoid of Sunday parishioners milling in and out of its thick wooden doors? No matter how hard the steeple tries to break-apart the clouds, the grand sky dwarfs the church, causing it to look like a toy model. The church fluctuates between looking like a miniature-scale model, and an architectural feat.

with defiance
the steeple pierces clouds
looming overhead -
the snow-laden clouds
make the church appear small

Passing the church, I find it ironic how today the church is empty inside, yet on its steeple and roof-lines, countless animals are nesting, making this House of God their sanctuary. Slowly making my way home, I ponder about the hawk, how it is not only a predator amongst prey, but a predator amongst predators -- it flies around in plain sight, yet also hides right in the middle of the city. Coming up to the path leading to the back-door of my home, I scan a small trail of footprints in the snow. The footprints vary, but all are familiar to me. 
It is at precisely this moment that I fully acknowledge the Red-Tailed Hawk and I to be kindred spirits; how similar we really are.

the path leading home
is a winding snowy trail
of few footprints,
for only my loved ones know
where I truly live



.

Details | Sky Poem | |

You and I make the rainbow

You and I make the rainbow!

------------------

You know dear why I love rain?

It washes away my soul's strain!

My hair fall free to go with the flow!

My face lights up, gets back its glow!

That's why I am letting me get wet!

I haven't got that dreamy feeling yet!

When water tickles under my feet!

Dribbling drops form a dance beat!

The breeze around asks me to fly!

Even if I know I couldn't, I still try!

I go into another world, while I'm here!

The sky that's so far, to me it gets near!

While I am afloat, under the cloud's gazebo!

Not the raindrops, you and I make rainbow!

-----------------------

Poetry by Dr. Asghar Nazeer (LinkedIn profile http://sa.linkedin.com/in/drasgharnazeerlinkedinprofile)

Kindly read this poem with a lovely matching photo by Ms. Linda Sherman on LinkedIn pulse at https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/article/20140820205500-167523528-you-and-i-make-the-rainbow and with a beautiful captivating painting on LinkedIn Pulse at  https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1 

Please review my other 28 poems with similarly captivating pics at my LinkedIn main author's page at https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1

All my posts are shared through my Facebook community page "Hear those pics Say what clicks" https://www.facebook.com/PicsAndPoets You are most welcome to visit this page as all my posts are public and everyone may tag, share, comment on and like them.

The same posts are also shared publicly and are accessible to everyone through my Google+ page https://plus.google.com/+AsgharNazeer/posts 

Details | Sky Poem | |

Rolling Thunder And A Gentle Rain

The gentle music flows
from every drop of rain,
as it just lightly taps
against my window pane.

The wind begins to whistle
it's own melodious song,
while the wind-chimes
dance and play along.

The soothing sounds cast open
the windows and doors.
I close my eyes and breathe.
The energy surrounds me as my spirit soars.

I hold out my hand and feel the raindrops
as if they were at play.
My breath now quickened with emotion.
I taste the rain on my lips as I embrace the glorious day.

The curtains blow inward
the breeze itself is warm,
my mind is so peaceful
in the calm before the storm.

The sky's voice trembles
from above a darkening cloud,
as the rolling thunder
speaks it's thoughts aloud.

The thunder awakens
the flash of light.
The part of nature
that sends some to flight.

I chose to embrace the power of nature
in the earth and sky.
And bask in the wonder
that fills my eyes.

The rain seems to be letting up
as it puddles on the green grass,
and the once powerful winds
are now calming down at last.

The gray clouds are parting
and a bright rainbow forms,
proving that something beautiful
can come from such dangerous storms.

My eyes close and I breathe
in the scent of the cleansing rain.
The brilliant hues of the rainbow
dance in my mind where I feel no pain.

The sun peaks from behind the clouds
just to say hi.
I feel the warmth against my face
as I view the beauty with a sigh.






Written by: Kelly Deschler & Nature Boy


For Jared Pickett's contest - "Collaboration"

Details | Sky Poem | |

Riding Horses with Dad

Following the brush of a brown mare's tail
Up through the boulders and sage
Riding the ridge of the rocky hills
I'm a young girl, of blossoming age

I am sitting astride a strawberry roan
My Dad rides ahead in the haze
Climbing the crest, we had a view of our home
Where we could rest, and the horses would graze

The clouds pass over like ships set sail
Casting shadows on valleys below
The sky has turned a rose colored pale
Our pace resumes, quiet and slow

Our voices are silent,  all the words have been said
Just a whisper of bird wings, and a wisp of the chill
Our thoughts take our eyes, to a sky, scarlet red
Where a sun disappears, far over the hill

My Dad goes ahead, and has taken the lead
My mare tries to follow, but our vision has blurred
We continue our climb,  to reach forest timber
Are those voices of angels, I hear?

Up he goes on the trail, on his faithful steed
My dream, fading into the clouds..
He is smiling, my Dad,.. on his sorrel brown

                                  .......And I stay behind to remember







_________________________________________________















Details | Sky Poem | |

Fall Sunset

The fiery orange glow reminds me
The dusk sky is beautiful tonight
Will light the jack-o-lantern early
Crisp air encourages hugs just right

Your smile in the soft light warms my heart
Like joyous rapture entwined with you
The peace I feel radiates in part
The grand celestial displays in view

As the sun departs it's light in kind
All night creatures appear, bats and such
World within a world, under a vine
Snuggled close our hearts, hands and souls touch

Sunset sky in fall air, crisp and cool
That huggly, snuggly season of ghouls!

For the sonnet contest--revised

Details | Sky Poem | |

A Blanket of Stardust

“Stardust is falling!” I heard my son cry, his small precious face looking up at the sky. “Stardust?” I echoed, and thought how my son had such a vivid imagination. “Yes, Mommy. Look!” he said, taking my hand. He led me outside; the sky I then scanned. I felt an enchantment, for what did I see? Myriads of stars shone down brightly at me. And the harder I stared, the more that it seemed the heaven above was like something we dreamed. The sky was a forest, and each star - a tree - was blazing in splendor against ebony. A celestial wildfire spread there overhead. “See, Mommy, see?” my dear child then said. No dust falling down from those stars did I see, but his eyes now looked downward ecstatically. When I followed his gaze, my shock was so sweet. A blanket of stardust I found at our feet! Written by Andrea Dietrich, 12/26/12 for the Blanket of Stars Contest of Gail Angel Doyle

Details | Sky Poem | |

Smoke Rings

      Smoke Rings
If she wanted to stay he would make her a place,
for he loves ev'rything that she is,
and he'd willingly give all the world and the stars
for her love--if they only were his.

But he likes it alone, and in silence he knows,
if he wants, he can talk to the moon,
or hear voices at bars, or the children he loves,
and if wanting to go--he'll go soon.

Or to stay if he choose, for the night is still young,
but she's there, and he's wanting to say
all the words in his heart--but he's holding them back
and the night is much colder than day.

So he goes to someone who's no danger to ways
though he smiles, he is really not there
and he wants to forget, but he wants to live on,
if she stays or she goes, he will care.

And the one he is with, sees the love in his eyes,
and she knows it's not hers anyway,
but the ones' who was late, and the one who will go,
and the one he will never let stay.

If he asks and she stays, he'll go off the deep end,
and he knows she loves silence--as he;
and she stays for a while, til the silence is deep,
and the end is the end that must be.

But she looks at the floor when he wants her to see,
and she goes when he wants her to stay,
but the words are not there, and he watches her go,
with the thought that it must be this way,

but he smiles in his heart--for he's known her at least,
and he's loved--and has found love is good,
and the end that he feared, he prevented in life,
though he wonders if he ever should.

And the journey is long--he'll look back on her face,
and he'll think, many times, there it goes!
and he'll always regret; for it's always alive,
and she's part of his life, and he knows.

And the others who see--feel the same for their own,
and they wonder why he doesn't try,
but it's smoke rings they see; or a bird in their hand
that is wanting to fade in the sky.

And the sky will embrace ev'rything in the end,
and the things that we see are a mask,
and the smoke rings that fade to the will of the sky
are in love--and the sky didn't ask.

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