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Sun Work Poems | Sun Poems About Work

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

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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.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

Details | Couplet |

This Time of Year

The air is fresh, mornings crisp and clear
God I do love this time of year
Vibrant colors abound on the trees
Gracefully falling with the breeze
The workday runs from sun to sun
Until the "Bringing in of the crops" is done
I am a lucky man to live this life
Respect of my community and loving wife
Sometimes in life the land yields plenty
The blessings throughout the day are many
As I watch the sunrise to the east
It gives my soul a spiritual feast
For all my friends everywhere
To my Lord a silent prayer
To the north her majesty appears
For all to see beautiful and clear
Forever snowcapped and standing tall
Lady Shasta watches over all
To the south another blessing to see
The Sutter Buttes clouded in mystery
It was the Lord that gave them their birth
The shortest mountain range on earth
The coastal mountains to the west
Offers the sun a place to rest
Followed shortly for all to see
The "Harvest Moon" clear as can be
Then comes a moment that is hard
As I head my "Cat" off to the yard
My final ride of this year
My face accepts a single tear
My heart becomes full of sorrow
I inject myself with poison tomorrow
Thats the price that a junkie must pay
Years after he has changed his way
The reason is very clear to see
I put myself "At risk" to hepatitis C
I can't stop the fear from flooding in
What will it be like to hold a rig again
Through all the loss and all the gain
I reckon that moment will bring me pain
But through the pain I'm able to see
God has his angels covering me

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007

Details | Pastoral |

The Sun In My Face

I awoke this morning to the sun in my face ,
   Quickly I sat  up for I knew it was late .
My sleep  has been so good since we came together,
    The rest I get the peace I feel will be with me forever.
Can't remember when I have felt so good ,
    Finding you has changed my life , I knew it would .
This is not something I would ever take for granted ,
    Because I know the seeds of love have been planted .
It will grow and blossum into something so grand ,
    Always glowing brightly no matter where I stand .
Not a worry or care do I feel on this day ,
    Only joy and happiness will come our way.
I can say this from the bottom of my heart , 
    Never will I feel alone when it's cold and dark .
To be awakened by the sun in my face ,
   To be honest with you , it matters not if I am late .

Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |

The Great Harvest

He greets the rising sun with a puff of black smoke,
Gritting his teeth against the cold and sending up prayers of hope.

On this tractor he sits all day, 
Never to stop unless something were to break.

Swinging the auger out to signal the tank is full,
Bank out comes up full speed and tries not to drop one hull.

All day long this is the scene, 
So perfectly timed and almost serene.

The sun starts to set,
But they continue to go, for they’re not done yet.

The painted colors of the sky,
So peaceful and stunning in his eyes.

With darkness starting to settle in and cover,
The rice dust will slowly start to hover.

He turns on the lights and continues his rows, 
For until the harvest is finished, he will never slow. 

Copyright © Nicole Owen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

Winter morning

Wind goes touching my face.
Slowing my walking pace.

It is gentle but eager.
My temperature to gather.

Trees seem freezing.
My town is still sleeping.

The sun will wake up soon,
And will say good-bye to the moon.

Walking along the street alone.
I feel refreshed with growing dawn.

This is winter morning
I'm on the way to working


Copyright © Makoto Ogino | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |

Nineteen Minutes to Bedtime

Jack just had a big fight with his son Zach about it. He said
I'm tired of hearing how you're too tired to do your homework. You're
not too tired to play basketball or Xbox. That was that after Zach said
               Visiting the nursing home you think Never
will I allow myself to live long enough to end like that, that's
a fact. But promises are broken all the time, to others and the self,
and that one probably will be too unless your face is shattered
into shards of broken glass, by accident.
                                                        Then it will be quiet, too quiet.
Day by day goes by until the day you receive news of your disease,
personal, unique, irrevocable, musical and factual, withal.
That's that you think but in fact it's not. You discover (circle with a dot)
much like living. That that's true until the body just stops barking,
               Salvation in the details (sub-atomic particles). Granite
or sandstone, ash or oak, Odysseus or King Lear. Get it? Not yet.
For someone who doesn't want to be anonymous, Jack's anonymity
      runs deep.
His work sunk in a tar pit or peat. The worthwhile effort is to meditate
on that, accept and repeat.
                                       Like a flat spun nickel, shiny sunny side down,
shadowy silvery moon up.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Senryu |


pain breaks loose 
business as usual

(a bottle called Aleve)

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku |

Chasing The Sun

Pipit is calling...
Pleasant bird song fills the air
Tired face lives in hope

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006

Details | Narrative |

Gypsies and Others

This happened many years ago
when I was just a child.
Dakota was still a frontier state
and considered somewhat wild.

The caravan of Gypsies came
going from here to there.
I never learned from whence they came
or where was their great somewhere.

They drove wagons pulled by horses
and needed a place to park.
They came in as the sun went down, 
to be settled before dark.

Many farmers said Gypsies were thieves
and would not let them stay.
My Daddy with his tender heart
could turn no one away.

He gave them the big pasture,
to park their horse drawn vans.
It looked like a little city
with the lights from the caravan.

My daddy didn’t let his girls
go near where the Gypsies park.
My brothers went, had fortunes told
and considered it a lark.

They never stole from Daddy,
he and the leader had a pact.
And I don’t know if they were thieves.
It wasn’t proven fact.

And then there were the working men
who walked our country lane.
We called them tramps, but they were men
who looked for work in vain. 

They came to work the harvests
and with harvesting all done,
they had no money to get home,
They walked from sun to sun.

Gypsies, tramps or common thieves,
my mama fed then all.
She said they were God’s children,
or some angels come to call.

She’d fix an over flowing plate
and set them on the stoop.
We never missed an egg or chicken
from our big chicken coop.

Written:  April 2012

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cowboy |

In the Thick

In the Thick

And so, 
	By the shadows spun from its trunk
like its leaves the threads of a dripping silk bandana
in a water trough, dunked
cutting back the heat and exhaust
Like iron. Quieting by charm
The blaring noise of the sun
	`for just a moment.

An there,
	Still, shadows upon the backing slopes
	Of baking stone and grass
A-lurking beneath them all
	waiting and collecting as droplets
		Where each time he beds down 
Rises and floods the draw.
Shadows running through the cracks of mud
	Shade out of reach as the rainbows end.
And huddled beneath the words 
	Of my own heart.

But while,
	On the ground, fading in and out
	Do these words seem to rise out
Pointed and formidable
	Chosen to be found
Like a rusty old rowl
Clipped when smashed against
the shade makers bough
A century before now.

And here,
In this thicket of weeds
Beneath this tired old mesquite
	This late afternoon
Whereupon any other
I might uncover a different sentence structure
After I ride up and tie up
	pull the latigos loose
		To shade up beneath it
As an old wore-out cow might do
Acting as though these ideas are as original and new
As writing
:Sometimes this life is too good to be true.

Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Unemployed Mornings

The early sun burns through my window
Pointing its accusing rays on me
“Late! It is late! ” It seemed to say
Urging me awake from a slumber
That bears down a heavy load upon my shoulders
Such that I cannot rise from where I lay.

“Late! It is late! ” The sun seemed to say, 
The heat annoying as it graze my skin.
Urging me awake, urging
Like a lady who’s kept waiting on date
A couple of hours too late.
What would I give for a couple more hours of sleep
While the rest of the world is frenzied; 
The sound of hurried hooves outside scurry
To earn the right for a meal.

Me? The rest of my afternoon looms
Empty as vacuum.

Copyright © Robert Uy | Year Posted 2012

Details | Imagism |


a combine harvests

the field mice head west

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

Details | I do not know? |

day dreaming

that painting i look at every day.
god i wish i was there. 
the beautiful orange leaves falling everywhere.
an old house just calling my name.
in the middle of nowhere.
i close my eyes and imagine the breeze.
it feels cool, i start to sneeze.
the clouds are moving to the west.
i lay down a blanket and watch the sun set.
the sun goes down as my phone rings.
i'm back at the office my dream is gone.
i look at the painting whistfully, i'll be back.
i start to loose focus, there i am, under that tree.
staring at the clouds as leaves fall around me. 
snap, back at the office again.
until tomorrow my beautiful friend.

Copyright © shannon snyder | Year Posted 2005

Details | I do not know? |


dawn breaks ,attacking
Moon shining in residues of night
gulls soar effortlessly over that moon
hunting the sun 
too soon hidden in snow clouds
sirens wail ,I stomp my way to stack shelves.

Copyright © Simon Mve | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bio |

Citizen on Patrol

It’s 5am, and the alarm clock screams
As I reluctantly open my eyes 
Starting my day with a regimented routine
Before the sun even begins to rise.

As I dawn my vest and uniform of blue
And pin the silver badge upon my chest,
I pray that I return home safely to you
And yes, I promise I will do my best.

Some call me a hero, others call me a pain
Because I’ve sworn to protect and serve,
They think that I do it for some kind of gain
Not realizing that it takes a lot of nerve.

To stare into the face of a person with a gun
Praying you don’t have to pull the trigger,
I can certainly tell you that it isn’t fun
And there’s a lot of emotional rigor.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t do it anymore
As I kiss my wife and walk out the door,
But then I realize that I’ve given my pledge; 
To face all hardships and walk that razor edge.

It’s 5am, and the alarm clock screams
As I reluctantly open my eyes 
Starting my day with a regimented routine
Before the sun even begins to rise.

Copyright © Michael Donnelly | Year Posted 2007

Details | Monoku |

Hard Work

Soaking wet in sweat drive up the wall when spring play the role of summer

Copyright © The Eminent MGK | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

What's your name

So beautiful you are
The sun has become jealous of your rays
No rivals for the ultimate victor
Men who approach, are instantly entranced in a daze

You are the light at the end of the tunnel 
Blessing is your current perfume 
Long hair blows without a single care 
Often the most tantalizing being in the room

Supple lips sit seductively below your nose 
Unreal conversations challenging my attentiveness
I am slowly falling for you
Loading up to take my shot, praying I don't miss 

Copyright © Jaquay Atkins | Year Posted 2017

Details | Light Poetry |

Sunshine Superman

There’s something wrong with the sun you see,
I need you to go up there and fix it for me.

You’ll need to put up a ladder to the clouds and climb,
And then work your way up to the sun from behind.

Whatever is wrong with it, I know you’ll fix,
I’ve seen your work and I know your tricks.

You’ll know what’s wrong when you get to the place,
Just take some tools for your trip into space.

And then in the morning when I wake up I’ll see,
The sun will be shining in my window on me.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku |


Half-awaken sun

Appalled was by the day's toil

Herculean task!

© Demetrios Trifiatis
         17 July 2017

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2017

Details | Narrative |

Seasons, Work, Music, Dreams

'Morn sky, Spring love, Summer dreams,
Winter chill. Listen to the cloud covering.

Fall deep into fallen leaves, raked
By slumbering winds. Fields of white
Cotton picked in summer sun by Negro
Slaves - peaches by the migrant hands.

Dixieland band plays on for workers.
Sing along, soulful music. Mexicans
Have a more upbeat style. Jazz in 
New Orleans in the Spring. Ah, peace.

All seasons man works to the beat,
Heat of the sun and wind. Then rainfall.
Call to the morning sky. Ask why not?

It's got to be time for planting and
Panting up a sweat. No regret I forgot
To mention again sweet Summer dreams.

Copyright © June Ellen Smith | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |


the streets

like a mirror topped

frozen river

reflecting light

of the winter sunrise

night withdraws


dabbing windows

and roof tops

with its frost

paint brush

as it goes

in the zero hours

the streets

are vacant save

for the sole

delivery man

lights begin to go

on in apartments

after alarms

the hive stirs

and awakens

an hour later

reflection is lost

to the buzz

of busyness

Copyright © Forrest Pasky | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Our different day.

You go to bed, you lie there, you toss and turn all night,
You cannot sleep, you can't lie still, you try with all your might, 
Morning calls, the sun comes up, you raise your weary head,
Now you have to face the day, and you wish you were in bed.
I went to bed, I lay there, and I tossed and turned all night,
I couldn't sleep, could not stay still, I tried with all my might,
Morning came, the sun came up, I raised my weary head,
I decided not to face the day, and I went back to bed.

Copyright © Eddie Glass | Year Posted 2008

Details | Narrative |

Coal Miners

From sun up to sun down, they worked all day,
but down in that hole they always slaved,
light from a lantern, is all they had,
and quitting time really made them glad.
Coal dust covered them from head to toe,
and year after year it hurt them so.
No other jobs could be found back then,
Sons, and fathers, enemy, and friend.
Safety standards were not the best back then,
time was the enemy of the coal miner men.
Cave-in's were common in that cold wet tomb,
where they spent their days, surrounded by gloom.
Times have changed, things are better today,
but still they are in danger, no matter how safe.


Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2007