Best Sundial Poems
I only tell of sunny hours...
for they are all I know.
To speak of winds, I would be vain
to guess which way they blow.
I will not try to gauge the rain.
How silly would I look!
The tides? the moon? to plant, or not?
Best check the farmer's book.
. . .
The sundial speaks of what she knows
of all else she is quiet.
I could be spared so many woes,
if only I would try it!
February 18, 2019
Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest
Sponsor, Julia Ward
I AM A PROUD GREEK SUNDIAL
I only tell of sunny hours historically,
And go back to when I was built,
Fifty years before Christ was born,
Have been renovated and rebuilt!
My name is Tower of the Winds,
I live in Agora, Athens Greece,
I live at the summit, on top,
Tell time and season, quite an eyepiece
Lord Elgin attempted to remove me from
Greece and take me to Britain but failed,
But I the sundial perched high above,
Stand proud as Elgin’s actions were curtailed!
Entered into sundial wisdom poetry contest 12/2/2019
Ordinary words cannot express the glimpse, this strange eclipse of wonder
Driving over hills, just north of home, it captures first my curiosity
Amid the landlocked green of rolling hills, trees and rocky tundra
Could it be, perhaps a sailor gone astray, whose ship has grounded
Upon the rocky valley floor....so far from sea?
With mast, the sail that hangs so high...pointing sharply to the sky?
This mystery of amazing engineering artistry!
A bridge!....yet, not so simply said, as to be described as bridge alone
A masterpiece, ... as if a giant human hand
Arrived upon this northern California land to craft a timepiece
A sundial, fit to mock, ...fit to rock your faith in any other clock
Where no spring will break, or battery will fail
Where motion works a shadow, which will run as silently as the sun
With a spire that one can see, for miles north and south, over trees and me...
And as the earth rotates the axis on this day
I will walk on glass, across the cantilevered span
Over river wild, and blue and green where salmon run
It gleams as if a giant alabaster sail rules the sea
And when there are clouds it will rest, and all night it will sleep
When the sun lights the earth, then across the land the time will keep.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For Brian's Everyman's Ekphrais contest
To see a virtual tour of the Sundial Bridge, http://www.virtuar.com/california/sundial/
Or type in Sundial Bridge, Redding, California
This bridge is about 25 miles north of my home
I only tell of sunny hours...
The cheerful makings of memories
Cloudy bouts to be forgotten
Nights meant for relaxation
Each a designated pause between
Sunfilled enjoyment and adventures
I only tell of sunny hours...
The ones that are important
So you’ll bite into life with vigor
And treasure each bright day
As the divine gift it truly is
I am your witness and accomplice
I only tell of sunny hours...
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
The great circle dawning light have given past,
Cockcrows, birds chirping, life springs, into new beauty.
Noon, o how it warmed the humid fill air fast;
Afternoon, it grows cold, and weary, its neglect of duty,
Scarcer the sight of life, to the evening cracks,
Where the beauty sets its last warm felt glow,
Loves journey, two way streets, once overflowed, now lacks,
Daunting nightfall has crept where love lets go.
I only tell of sunny hours...
orange light upon the flowers.
In morning mist, the light I kiss;
Crunching numbers I persist.
Each hour of the turning Earth;
another offspring, I see birthed.
Though for granted, they take me;
I daily help them plan their days;
as I bask in sunlight’s rays.
My gnomon’s style casts shadow, wide;
revealing hour of day’s, my pride
My dial plate’s sporting curves and lines;
show latitude and longitude; hey, that rhymes!
You’ll see me in a garden path;
I’ll be there daily, doing math.
My declination lines will tell,
what day it is though, I ring no knell.
2-1-19
For:“Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest”
sponsored by: Julia Ward
Rusty metal clock
Measures shadows on a face
With tactile numbers.
Harpoon rays melt from the sun,
A fiery furnace in the sky;
A shadow rounds the sundial,
the nonexistent hand tells the time;
It has circled into the abyss,
A vision portrayed and betrayed,
The mind is caught in a whirlpool
of time.
I only tell of sunny hours...
While quartering each day
In shaded lines or angles
To point the passing way
Thus tireless in my duties
Of minding moments, rife
But only those in sunlight
The brightest times of life
My minutes turn to hours
And hours thus move on
To spin as lives about me
Until day's light has gone
But if you fear the moments
'Til daylight won't be soon
I'll still be minding hours thru
The bright ... of every moon.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Sundial Wisdom" Poetry Contest, Julia Ward, Judge & Sponsor.
I only tell of sunny hours
When the Sun bows to bestow me powers
Casting shadow my finger I point
From past to future I serve as the joint.
I move as time turns its pages
Admiring the beautiful world as it ages
Dancing with the Sun that gives me life
I, the Sundial is true as his wife.
So when the Sun sets I sleep
The day's secrets to my purse I keep
With his touch I wake again to tell
Another story of a magical spell.
The magic of time and its passing-
An hour runs like it's chasing;
I wave when the Sun smiles down
And rest as the Moon wears its crown.
So learn to value your days
For my hand flees with Sun's rays.
[Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Feb. 8, 2019]
I only tell of sunny hours...
For I have found a new direction.
Like the sun shinning on a sundial,
hope follows me whence I travel.
For its not what life owes me, its what
I owe life.
I've learn that happiness is a direction
and not a place which I travel with hope
along a road which I have made. My road is
built with dreams that I carry within
my heart; and nothing in this world
will make me kneel to fear.
Hope follows like a shadow, regardless of
the weather and instead of looking for the bad,
I look for the good. My sundial really does
not need the sun, for I carry a light that
shines on me. I don't have to look for
happiness, for hope is my companion.
Contest,
Sponsored by Julia Ward, Sundial Wisdom. Feb 16,2019
I only tell of sunny hours ...
Although dark shadows cast their gloom.
My prototype in ancient times
Stood guard outside a Pharaoh's tomb.
*
From Egypt's Valley of the Kings
To dreaming spires of Oxford town,
My heritage of solar time
From east to west has earned renown.
I only tell of pleasant times
Although dark moments leave their trace,
But I prefer to spread the light
And show the world a sunny face.
13.02.19
Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest : sponsored by Julia Ward
*note: A sundial dating to the 13th century B.C. and considered one of the oldest Egyptian sundials, was discovered in Egypt's Valley of the Kings, the burial place of rulers from Egypt's New Kingdom period (around 1550 B.C. to 1070 B.C.).
* various sundials dot the university town of Oxford, the most famous of which can be found in Corpus Christi College.
SUNDIAL WISDOM--
I only tell of sunny hours;
And my face looks toward heaven's skies;
And a gnomon, which casts a shadow onto my dial;
My eyes gnomon clouds ruin my view;
Glaucoma vision clouding my decision;
I yet still can't see my time;
Numerically can't read the sign;
The earing of sun-block, keeps me from buying a watch;
As time goes by, shadows lie;
Numbers Roman or old English;
Without the sun Can't be read;
I have no, No time stone-face;
Wish someone would tell me what time it is;
1/30/19
For Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:Julia Ward
Personification poetry form only
Sundial
My passion is the silent weather vane
The gambrel brought such sorrow
Much I marveled this roughcast cairn
Eagerly I looked for the lintel
I have dreamed of the clocks
Eagerly I looked for the masonry
It was heterodox
Somewhat louder than the freemasonry
Back into my memories rewinding
And the clapboards never machining
Deep into that darkness watching
Still is notching, still is notching
The graves seemed happy botching
And so I screamed, 'Is that a weatherboard?'
I crave the dissident, derelict dormer window
My mind always strays to caryatids
Much I marveled the dissident gazebo
Much I marveled the eighth patio
I crave the baronial, balcony breezeway
You warned me about the indigo
And so I screamed, 'Is that a drift way?'
Take thy landscaping from out my heart
What time is it, And the megaliths never grinding
What time is it, And the masonry was nonbinding
I heard an italianated, slapdash roofing
It was fireproofing
I discovered the statues
Take thy picket fence from out my heart
I discovered the vases
Deep into that darkness listening
'It's that plaster work,' I muttered
My passion is the silent weather vane
The gambler brought such sorrow
Much I marveled this roughcast iron bane
Eagerly I looked for the lintel barrow
It's a new day and yet dark now,
What time is it on the sundial?
4/7/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019 ©
I only tell of sunny hours…
for vampires are my bane
cast a shapeless chill
upon my timeless shame.
Oh sunrise, dear sunrise
first touch of daylight’s glow
awaken me – unbind stone hands
as dancing shadows grow
upon the patterns of my soul
across my tarnished face
count with me those sunny hours
cold lifeless hands retrace.
©1/31/2019
Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest
Julia Ward - sponsor