Long Sunbursts Poems
Long Sunbursts Poems. Below are the most popular long Sunbursts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sunbursts poems by poem length and keyword.
Chalk dust swirls, a constellation of knowledge.
The classroom hums with potential, electric.
Each mind is a universe, expanding, colliding.
Every lesson plan is a map of uncharted territories.
Every student teacher is a seed bursting with promise.
I see curiosity flickering in earnest eyes,
passionate souls wading through seas of theory,
and watch epiphanies bloom like sudden sunbursts.
I smell the sharp tang of inspiration and doubt
and feel the weight of shaping future generations.
Each eager question demands an answer
and irresistibly ignites my wonder.
I breathe in dedication and exhale guidance.
My experienced hands gesture through pedagogical labyrinths,
guiding novices with eyes bright as morning stars.
But I am not content with mere instruction,
I seek to kindle flames that will burn eternal.
A forest of ideas, methods, and transformative moments
surrounds me and offers a world alive with learning.
Slowly, my carefully crafted lessons yield their secrets,
stretching minds in all directions.
I dissolve into a grove of educators, chalk and whiteboard,
into textbooks and technology, into the open minds before me.
My role I had considered fixed and defined
takes flight and soars with a thousand possibilities.
I grow limitless and merge
with this luminous tapestry of teaching and learning,
united with the endless cycle of education.
Purposely off center, on tippy toe.
What a feat; completely nuts.
Tummy tuck, umbrella in hand,
just clowning around; on the brink
of a niagara fall. Tintinnabulation of
power, provoking an audience cower;
…over the rainbow it seems.
The audience holds on for dear life.
Colors blossoming like sunbursts.
Muscling up courage to close my eyes.
The ringing in my mind, an eruption
of a pale face, red honker, on the edge.
Blinking umbrella with ab rise and fall.
What was I thinking? Can’t turn back,
losing my grip, decentralized.
The audience holds on for dear life.
Waves of breeze, flow through trees like the sea
Shadows map pavement, below my ride
Sunbursts of warm rays are reaching out to me
My mind clears nicely, from all I tried
I ride through beautiful scenery
Shadows map pavement, below my ride
The land I pass, wrapped in greenery
With cool air softly touching my face
I ride through beautiful scenery
I leave worries behind to erase
Around each corner, freedom is there
With cool air softly touching my face
There seems to be nothing to compare
Movement flowing with a merging smile
Around each corner, freedom is there
Refreshing me with each passing mile
Waves of breeze flow through trees like the sea
I ride away with time for a while
Sunbursts of warm rays are reaching out to me
Heidi Sands
7/19/18
You were once a small child
With paper and crayon
Cacophony’s of colours
Scribbles so crazily drawn.
Then Mummies and Daddies
Crafted with circles and lines.
Soon squiggles of sunbursts
Your world produced in design.
Princes and princesses
Flashy flowers on the moon.
A glimpse of imagining
A child’s dreams in cartoon.
Illusions of spirals
Sophistication of style.
A mind in awakening
Creating art also tactile.
Definitions of shade
Pencil, paintbrush, and pen.
Astounding refinement
A babe leaving the den.
Inventions and visions
Digitising maps of the skies.
Discovering new vistas
Fresh frontiers as the prize.
Technology projects.
Scheming trips to the stars.
For you are the future,
That’s how special you are.
28th April 2016
Hieroglyphs and Holograms - Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Anthony Slausen
Her bare hands,
deeply wrinkled, touch the thorns
on the rose.
The petals-
color of the tiny pin-
prick of the blood
on her ring-
finger drop onto the cherry
bark surface.
The oval
ripened fronds are flour-soft;
they are bursting,
for the morning
of pines, birch and maples, that pose
as if sketched
in chalk tints.
She feels the flush of Spring
gardens; the lift
of a song-
sparrow as the buttercup
gold blessing
of the sun
softly touches the ruby-
mocha bricks
of her home,
in which she silently yearns-
like the hush
of falling
snow-to bloom in her twilight years-
sunburst plumes.
.
I see peace in the bright blue skies, in the paddocks green
In the warble from the magpies tounge in the breath of
God I come undone, in the pouring rain there are melodies
To heal hearts and fill the soul of me, I take strength from
Others of the human race' i note the joy we can embrace!
I see gold in the seashores sand; in sunbursts on rooiftops
Its vast and grand..From Kempsey down to Wangaratta
I listen to traffic on the m25 and yearn to be far from
Londons tide.' To return once more to penong and look
Over the plains, toward Perth or maybe i'd jump the train?
Take the Indy ride.. back to the Eastern States, buy some tinnies
And conjugate.? Eat Barrumundi maybe redfinToo? I'm game.'
Now I'm worn and battered.. I need home again..I need the
Drive of the Aussie folk, the strength of un-assuming women and blokes, And I know I'd slip right in..Like wool off the woolshed table
I'd be right into the bin.'
Hot white harvest
a bone dry land
years have been spent building
this reapers Machine on desolate Sand
American madness
An empire of a dream, dark
start the towers gleaming.
Reaching into open sky as ravens
gather to blackened
out a sapphire sky
reapers machine
Dead at last
Among the shafts of wheat
there in it’s rusted stance,
Headlights broken dead eyes stare
Light nova’s off shattered glass
shown bright like Sunbursts
on the Fields of barley and rye
A Machine built on the backs
of the damned
enslaved
Lost and insane in distant summers ago
rains hide far over the mountain range
White horizon seam
hot white sands
A bone brittle days
years have come to pass
the machine of man derelict at last
on these brutal wind swept lands
American empires of madness
dream of a reapers machine
Dead in its last stance.
Eyes vacant gleam,
under a harsh yellow sun
Among the fields of wheat and barley…
Oh, trees of once so forest green
now shrouded to me in pale hues
as my hearts reflection of blues
mirrors a lifeless figurine
Pray hide from me sunbursts of glow
for the sky is of mist alone
and where I roam as cold as stone
all thoughts run deep and overflow
Shadowy shaped vapours haunt me
with your gaze of cerulean blue
and if to feel your touch I drew
my hand that longed the touch of thee
All worn paths I fear now to tread
for there are haunting scents of you
that so relentlessly pursue
a heart that’s already long dead
All alone as teardrops of blue
and misty, hazy dreams of you
float away once more out of view
forsaking what my heart once knew