Long Sunshade Poems
Long Sunshade Poems. Below are the most popular long Sunshade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sunshade poems by poem length and keyword.
THE WEATHER? DON’T ASK ME
There won’t be a cloud in the sky today,
But don’t get too complacent.
The weather’s coming from the north
And storm clouds are adjacent.
My job used to be simple,
The seasons were well defined.
But, due to global warming,
I’m feeling undermined.
Why, with November upon us,
Are the leaves still attached to the trees?
What’s happened to Crosby’s White Christmas,
Now the temperature’s twenty degrees?
I went to the beach, back in August,
Prepared to sun bathe for the day.
I hired a deckchair and a sunshade
But a hurricane blew them away.
We are using too many fossil fuels.
The ozone layer’s parting.
While every day, across the world,
Ten billion cows are farting.
So, if you want a forecast
Of what the weather will do,
It’s really no good asking me.
I’m afraid I haven’t a clue.
31st March 2022
You're a Weather Forecaster poetry contest
Sponsor - Matt Calari
I wonder into how many mirrors I will glance on my to hell.
This vain and vile image.
We made him together.
Their expectations and my vanity.
Their agitation and my insecurity.
This peripheral paranoia, checked only by the silent staring into an image.
I wish he would show himself, that coward.
He uses flattery and percentile quadrants to entice me to his sodomy.
He and I, bedfellows of rebellious arrogance.
And though miserable, I company, lots and lots of companies.
I wonder into how many mirrors I will pass on my way to hell.
A shroud of glass might end it, but I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Them my enemy and me their obsequious jester.
This vain and vile image.
We made him together.
Their expectations and my vanity.
My machinations and their will for sunshade from the truth of what we are.
We made him together, and laughing he awaits our arrival.
A walk-in solitude, putting one foot
over the other, stepping over roots
to listen to the flutes of nature lutes
and silent subtle shift that are afoot.
Away from mental incessant chatter,
solace for the fractious mind. A matter
of time, a sense of elation scatter
and the will to feel the fatigue shatter.
A shaded path tucked away in slumber
in surrounding walls of dark and umber
trees, woody vines, shrubs, and beast that lumber
a realm of nirvana in poised wonder.
Sitting on the ashen limbs and trendless
full of sculptured green, wood thrush nest, restless.
In air a reward glimmer of breathless
hope in a grove of balm doth shine zestless.
Treading determinedly upward, the tree
sunshade is thinning, revealing a sea
of cadet blue sky, glorious to see.
Leaving the world behind upon the breeze.
7/29/2018
Poetry Contest: For Your Poetry Journal
Sponsored by: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
5. A walk in Solitude / Rhyme
She walks underneath the pink sunshade trees
dressed in flowing antique white bridal gown.
Un-dissuaded heart, to laugh, love, a peace
drawn to fragments of leaves rustling around.
The start of spring; radiant glow of pink.
A fountain of cherry blossom petals trace
down to the ground dressing the green. A wink
of amorous scene of warmth of her grace.
Enthralled by sensation of sweet scent tease,
gold sunshine rays' columns stand and solemn.
Poetic strokes of emotions to please,
a life draped in dreams hued in cherry blossoms.
A blank canvas rich in true color spun
in glaze memories not to be undone.
A book of verses underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread—and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness—
Oh, wilderness were paradise enow.
(Omar Khayyam’s (1048-1131 CE) well-known quatrain (Rubai). Its translation was done by Fitzgerald as above. Now look at the following translation done by me of a Gujarati Muktak by Somsundar Soori (Vikram Samwat 1430-1499, older by about 54 years as compared to CE)).
Nature’s drape of cool sunny sand,
Sunshade of green trees, time in hand,
And buttermilk amply supplied,
Pray, what more would paradise lend?
________________________________
Reflections |22.08.2023| quatrain, poetry
Poet’s note: Both the foregoing quatrains have similar poetic thought. Does it mean that poet Soori copied the thought from Khayyam, who happened earlier? No, similar thoughts do sometimes strike poets.
Shadow 10/18/25
The golden leaves of her,
amber with fiery, spirited show.
Beautiful preserved resin,
adoring him.
Hidden passion,
The dance, poise, deft
under shadows dim.
Canopied beneath times lair
to rest for lengthy fallow.
Fractured, curled hope takes flight
Chanting whispers assistance
Spinning beside cold airs plight
Sunshade kisses eyes first glance
Canopied beneath times lair
to rest under heavy harrow.
Her golden leaves for gray, umbra
mewling a spirited show.
Beautifully graced and grafted
facing him.
Falling passion
chances, serenity, sable
under shadows dim.
K
I could find in all of my short childhood,
No umbrellas around our neighborhood;
Farm-workers used palm leave woven structures,
That resembled head-gears said in scriptures...!
Our school lay less than a kilometer,
Rain torrents in June were true repeater;
Books covered in Polythene on head,
We saved some parts from tickling water-spread...!
Then, when an uncle from foreign returned,
His umbrella, when acclamations earned;
When town-folks knew cost-wise affordable,
We bought and found it so reward-able...!
Soon I found many models and colors,
Used variously by vivid lovers;
Parents had theirs; children had their showy,
Old had stick-bend like their neck-bend bowy...!
I found now umbrella-drawing easy,
One stick and a shade; things go so breezy;
Concept of umbrellas had changed our world,
No human left here, now, curled or furled...!
From childhood now I have seen vast vistas,
Umbrellas, I seem, like day’s cold, by-pass,
Don't they have, yet, in my life games to play?
Each of their work seem the game of the day…!
Modernity entered umbrellas too,
Who knew who will stand? When? Confronting who?
Frail folding one they produced; lo, the girl,
Thank God! Midst tough trials, she managed to swirl...!
I keep one in my room and in my car,
For emergencies, of course, fine these are;
Sometimes, yet, these all get so much mixed up,
At the end, it's like, searching my tea-cup...!
On Corpus Christi they spread umbrellas,
Of colors we had never seen, alas!
Rings, chains and pipes very luxurious,
Are these umbrellas not so glorious...?
Brolly. canopy, gamp, sunshade, they name,
Each, indeed, ends with the same old name game;
Life doesn't rotate on the axis same,
Umbrellas and safety have their same aim...!!!
05 November 2022
Writing Challenge - Unburden a ''U'' Word- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Title 3/ Air
Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Live in the sunshine:
As the air strolls neath the elaborate branches
Weaving between dreams of the world
Of crimson sunshade across the spring sky stanzas patches
Waltzed into world's tunes power unfurled
Swim the sea:
Of serene air that starts to sate swan swim
Transcending forward wonder-less
In Refreshing spring strokes of blue sea hymns
Numberless and endless
Drink the wild air:
Spellbound by the silence sweet scent ray’s streaks
Among the aroma of petrichor
Effulgent on limitless verdant mountain peaks
Viewing, embracing, and sharing her
3/19/2024
The sun having a frozen side~
a wish like a snowball in hell,
or netting the wind while oceans b o i l
in f i r e.
The rage of its heat needs curtailing.
I'm melting...
like chocolates and candles~
roasting like chicken in an oven.
How then
do I hide the cry of my fat?
With the frozen side of the sun,
snowflakes fall but never thaw,
painting my doorstep in white,
chilling my bones dry,
shaking my limbs stiff.
Birds hide their faces...
and songs become faint echoes in snow-draped distance,
while rasping hoots of early-rising snowy owls
mimic the whispers of restless winds—
announcing the coming of an impending
dark sky
that will not abate...
the ceaseless dropping of white flakes.
I'm b o i l i n g—
a tempest brewing...
not as a boiling frog syndrome
but like a fish out of water
in a slough of despond.
My skin scathes,
heat burns leave sores on my soles.
Long rays of shine pierced my sunshade;
sweat formed oceans on my skin.
And I w h i s p e r e d—
in the absence of ears~
"I need the frozen side of the sun."