Long Sunlight Poems
Long Sunlight Poems. Below are the most popular long Sunlight by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sunlight poems by poem length and keyword.
It's where we are tested
It's where we endure.
No longer feint hearted,
compliant,
demure.
The storm is the place
where we rise and we fall.
The salty wind whips
at our destiny call.
Growls of thunder drown out
our own cries of despair;
And the darkest oppression
seems unjust and unfair.
Through the howling and chaos
with the highest of stakes.
We learn strength from endurance;
praying stillness awaits.
For Faith is the vessel
to see us to shore..
The canvas of Trust;
for direction once more.
The journey of life
and all that travails
Helps us find true perspective..
Re-setting our sails.
We need lights of a haven
to restore and repair
And God's love is the hope
that will carry us there.
When sunlight breaks through..
oh.. that tenderest kiss.
Spirit stillness returns;
truth reminds us of this..
In the harbour, untested
we are not meant to be..
For our boat is designed
for the wild, untamed sea.
My sunset
eyes
hold secrets
that unlock
beautiful
skies
I
camaflage past
sorrowful cries
with
forced
smiles
I
am
the essence
of an eclipse
masking
my
true feelings
and
counterfitting
any
sense
of joy
I
Resplendent spirit
I soar
through gorgeous moments
of
my
beautiful laughter.
Capture this joy
before
My sunset short lived life dies
Darkest thoughts
flee from here.
Lovely eyes
holding secretive sighs
Blinded once from my own
face
Because I saw myself THROUGH YOUR EYES
Retracing my hand
over the outline of my face
feeling my muscles tense
with
anger
Gripped with
Bitterness
Beautiful girl
don't lose yourself to this world
walking alone under a starless night
silent pain
On the reflective pool
By the Library at my school
numbs the mirrored image
Alone
For now in this world
My sunset eyes
squint
at the BLINDING LIGHT
heavens provided
growing accustomed to
sunlight
Of a new days sunrise
Delicious
rays
of sun
I
merrily drink
and they
roll over my tongue
sweetened nectar
gorgeous
Living Sun.
My sunset eyes hold secrets
My darkened journey
filled
with promise
of always sunrises.
Form:
The best feeling of the day
is when I wake and pray...
someone may say," Why pray?"
" Are you going to be a monk like Jay?"
Another discourages me by saying,
" He spends hours on his knees getting
bruises that don't heal fast, they only acerbate;
is it worth the sacrifice to be celibate? "
I would reply to this idiot with this line,
" You live without faith, what inspires you to live? "
Idling time away in a rocking chair with nothing to give,
you think that living is avarice...no friends, no love until you die!
Have you woken up and thought, " Why am I alive? "
" Where's the best feeling of the day...making you thrive? "
Lazy, lazy man get off that chair and get a life,
do yourself a favor...go out there and help others!
Greedy, greedy man spend some money...get rid if those rags!
Who would want to be your friend? Don't even think of a wife!
The best feeling of the day
comes to me when the morning breeze makes me breathe and hope,
and overjoyed by every heartbeat, it brings vibrant life to my blood;
I praise, I praise Him and worship His creation by bowing my head...
faithless, faithless man pray
and feel what I feel each dawn....ready to face any challenge and cope!
You rather deny His existence and live by Man's ways seeking vain things...
blind, blind man where do you stand?
Your empty bottles pile up as trash and your breath stinks!
Lonely, lonely man without any friend,
get off booze and drive the demons out of your dark soul...
come outside and feel alive by breathing new air and begin to love!
The best feeling of the day
comes with the rising of sunlight,
when waves break on rocks and bubble...
that's when I stroll in the cool sand and watch a kite
reaching a golden cloud that the passing wind loves to tickle;
and like that flapping kite: I would fly away! I would fly away!
Only early July the summer heat is brutal
days will over a hundred degrees in the shade
The evening does little to cool, her breezes warm
So hot the stars seem to melt away as the moon crisp
to a golden brown, the ground thirst rived with cracks
as your clothes feel like loose skin layered onto your wet body
by the sweat from the sweltering punishing summer heat.
The sun does not shine it scorches and burns
delicate plants wither their leafs browned
Never enough water for any life abused by this heat
In direct sunlight you feel your skin burning
you sweat excessively, you are drained and fatigued
as your soul exhume itself from your body
ounce by ounce drop by drop dripping away into the
shinny shimmer glimmer of the horizon as it dives
into the belly of hell to cool itself off.
The refuge of indoors with fans blowing and air conditioners
churning air that neve feels cool enough.
Too hot to sleep, too hot to eat. Your will to work
long has evaporated into the glorious magnificence
of the mighty harsh Sun.
Outside the world becomes an oven baking away
sizzle and crackle of life itself buckle by the summer heat
Long pass the cold of December snows, so far from the freezing
of January. In my youth we played outside in this heat
riding bikes, roller skating, swimming at the public pool.
Drink from the garden hose cool off with the slip and slide
Mother would bring out a pitcher of ice Kool Aid.
Summer tan us brown as we spit watermelon seeds
for fun. We didn't even have air conditioning until I was ten.
How did we do it back then? it was just as hot, we were not as soft
You just lived life as it came and made the best of it.
No complaining, no worries, just living day by day
and those hot summers were expected and okay.
Race you to 7-Eleven for a Slurpee.
As he entered the room he pushed the oak door firmly against the wall trapping the shadows in a makeshift Tobelerone his hands frantic on the light switch
Even during the hottest summers he declined the comfort of the shade of towering trees.
Each room in his home had rows of light bulbs
Candles flickered in every corner
Neon tubes hummed in dazzling arrays
The constant thrum of individual generators for each living space.
At night thick slats of iron covered every window
opening only with the touch of sunlight yawn
Why do I whisper hello in my empty spaces he pondered his inner voice answering you know why
He shivered as a draught of unknown origins invited the candles to sway in unison
City born Northerners,
Kiss the last rays of sunlight,
With pampered lips
While those of us born and raised
In the south, Appalachian –
We dust off the melting sun
With a laugh that sheds the heat
From our pores and restores our
Hope for the star strewn silhouette,
Breaking through the endlessness
Calm and strong, worrying,
With the distance between
Morning and evening
The laughter between two,
Gasping reasons…
Northerners know only urban things,
A metropolis of themes,
Towns and scenes, where silence agrees,
It never finds its peace,
Never finds it secret, showing life…
Beyond the city life, where lights play,
Laughing beyond the memories…
There is a peace, a serenity,
Only found in the center of a dream,
Fancied by hearts and souls who see…
Reflections of the moon, the stars, the trees,
Soothing away the hindrance of needs,
Blessing the life with light that succeeds –
In awakening morning, dewlike and gentling
As the wings of music on notes of prayers
Prayed by Southerners, those born and bred,
In Appalachia, where life is slow and steady,
Where light reflects the heavens
Grace is the most precious treasure…
Listen to the woods, the oaks and the pines,
The beauty in a soul who hears…
Trembling whispers in the dancing leaves,
Tender reasons, sighing in the forest’s breath.
"A woodland path in the dappled sun, hushed and quiet "
At last you’ve come for me, my love, my sweet!
You’ve come through tranquil woodland, with the breeze,
along that path where once we used to meet
and with the sunlight streaming through the trees!
With passion in your eyes and wings for feet,
you’ve come for me, and all my anguish flees.
You are so near, I hear your wild heart beat.
You’ve come for me, my own wild heart to seize.
Alas! The woods have vanished with the gleam
of my waking dawn. It was but a dream.
Written June 9, 2011 by Andrea Dietrich
Inspired by the Contest "A Woodland Path"
sponsored by Constance la France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
I stroll along dogs running ahead then waiting for me as I peer at
the marvels nature spreads before me. A hollow in a trunk is home
to a squirrel who chatters angrily at me for intruding.
Lush yellow wheat fields
ears waving golden and plump
in blazing sunlight
The crops are ready for harvesting full and plump
maize for animal feed, corn for our bread and barley
to make beer. There will be a merry celebration when
harvest is finally in
Flush of sunflowers
standing so stately and tall
birds feeding on seeds
All these seeds and berries now ripened
and being feasted on by birds and rodents stocking
up on winter fat to see them through to spring . Now it
is time to hibernate the long cold days of Winter away
until once again Winter relents turning into Spring
Disintegrating dreams
I find I can no longer stand
as this ground about me shakes with might.
Thunderous hooves of imaginary wild horses,
panting in heavy breaths, kicking dust before soiled eyes,
claiming to take down fences
of wire and stick, laying waste in sun dried foot prints
creating a mosaic of dream-like designs.
Spiraling uncontrolled as the artist fades like fall colors,
still trapping hopeless romantic thoughts
locked within reach and just out of sight.
Challenging the earth to steady the plates
suspended above me on thin shafts of deep desire,
spinning like clocks in an opposite direction
telling time it has no place here.
Finding that truth is the enemy, I pull the drapes knowing
doorways will caress thresholds that keep out the draft,
yet allow the sunlight to mimic the scattered shade cooling the needs
beneath a paper fortresses . . . and my heart sighs.
For this is life, in its starkest reality,
and what was pictured in youth lingers in the minds of the old.
Pasting cobwebs for effect and smiles not as genuine as they may seem,
days pass and with them opportunities fly like a crying dove
as morning light counts another moment away from this existence.
Why does it seem that endless possibilities end, forever wishes
drown at the bottom of the well amidst even older pennies,
patina claims the skin in the name of a love
found but not shared, carried upon shoulders,
as nothing else is left but to wait . . .
while my dreams no longer wait for me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sparkling sunlight filters through
the willow tree’s slender branches,
speckling the water’s surface~
a montage of green coins.
Koi swim gracefully just below the surface,
choreographed by gentle noontime breezes~
their forms seem like an artist’s colorful brushstrokes,
orange bleeding into white,
black dissolving into gold.
A koi near the surface,
its gills flaring slow,
mouth open in a silent O
as if it’s savoring the sky.
The water remembers every movement,
every turn, every glide, every moment
leaving a lasting trace~
yet gives nothing back
but the quiet hum of holding.
Above, a dragonfly lights,
its wings thinner than regret,
casting no shadow,
only the briefest interruption of light.
And for a moment,
the pond is not just water,
not just fish,
but the world’s slow exhale~
something between prayer
and perfectly still hunger.
You may read the accompanying memoir vignette here at Poetry Soup:
poetrysoup.com/short_stories/magic_at_the_koi_pond_13577