Posts Tagged ‘Sun’

The sun is shining

yet I sit inside,

daydreaming of places I’d like to go:

the beach, I used to go

all the time, but then teenage insecurity crept in;

a bike ride, I love the rush of wind

against my skin, but the way back

is uphill;

the forest, always

with such mystery,

such a quiet and mystical place

with sounds from sources unseen,

the scent of earth and trees,

but there’s danger lurking somewhere

and there are bugs that bite.

I sit inside

and think about the places I want to go,

waiting for courage or boredom

to take me there.

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“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain…” -Emily Dickinson

I felt a funeral, in my Mind,

like the slow decension

of the Sun clearing way for Dusk.

And- it seemed- the Procession

carried Reason in the polished Casket.

And the Dirge began to play,

Mourners faces remained Stoic,

the absence of Sagacity

weighed heavy on my head.

No riveting Ecstasy

as the cathedral opened up,

releasing a Necessity unto Heaven.

written 14 November, 2014

Somewhere among the dueling concrete

and greenery;

somewhere among the orchards

and the painted dollhouses of suburbia;

somewhere in the obnoxious cries of the gull,

the wail of the baby, the shoots of light

that grow out of the sun;

somewhere in the deep

blue-black forest of scrawls by the poet,

there is

hope.

The Trees seem to beckon

as the Sun sinks low,

but the Heat keeps me apart

from the World I’d like to know.

 

Clouds, obscure! Sun, blink!-

for a short Moment-

so I may venture,

and- no more- lament.

Summers is here and the sun bares down.

I could impress upon people the value of rain-

silver fingers drumming, the sky without frown-

but they see it as a pain,

something to avoid. I would dance in it,

but instead I sit

inside and read poetry. When I was young

I would open my mouth to the rain

the way any other child would catch snowflakes on his tongue,

and I would spin for raindrops and drink them in.

Summer people watch the moon wax and wane.

On bright mornings I wince at the sun

and whisper you win.

There goes the white candle.

Its aura blooms yellow and orange,

the sky changes, like a lover

recently scorned, tears and blood and

whispers and promises and the heat swept up

into the darkening inferno.

Here’s to you, the End-Of-Day,

the end of my clarity, the end of my certainty.

Without you we are all thrust under night’s tongue.

We all grasp for moonlight. We remain

weary of shadows.

Here’s to you, Reminder-

we must all fade, eventually.

when sun beams

brown to bronze

bronze and yellow

clock yawns ticking tears stick

sleep and grog wake with steam

wreath wake with sniff

eggs out basket yolk to china

table light bronze yellow

shimmer shimmer eyes

perk up perk up mug

drip sip dribble spoon

knuckles chime hold place

lean so stiff

slurp and blink

hand down on table yellow

bronze and yellow

because sun is greeting