"sunbathed" poems
Balcony Life:
Sometimes I just watched outside, and it was a glorious day.
Children actually played. Groups sunbathed and basked in beer
Ice-cream vans were heard not far from here
Above a plane heading somewhere etched its mark
traced in nothing but just plain blue sky,
for miles, as far as the eyes could see.
Up the motorway, the sun ignites on speeding sunroofs
Toward the Campsie Fells set in a haze of bottle green
The white trickle of yesterdays snow cut like some dyslexic ancient symbol
A place for misspent youth and baking trays on icy days
A hot cheap brand coffee in a chipped petrol-token mug
Perched on weathered wrought iron painted brown like last year
Meant so much in that moment grasped and shaped like glass with glee
I remember that there is life in this here estate sometimes
Watching as you do,
from your own slice of life on your patch of balcony
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:24 AM UTC
Distant island shapes beguiling
Floating ghosts of far off land
Appear sentinel as we lay
Hot and sunbathed on the sand.
Scorching beach has tricked our minds
Ever beckoning cool seas flow
Finely placed as time stands still
Myths of people long ago
Heat above the deep caldera
Yet at water’s edge a breeze
Every wave a stroke of calmness
Drags the black sand out with ease
Pushing, combing lava rock
Once a liquid burning hot
Hearts massaged by the tender noise
Deep sighs as the day burns on
Windy gusts caress unclad torsos
Smiling we hold hands out to catch
Throwing our heads back with the pleasure
Letting our warm brown frames collapse
Lazy resting towels on bodies
Sunbed dreaming, time for lunch
Decisions on the midday menu
A carafe of red or white, too much!
Later when the sun’s behind us
Deserted beaches for the night
Couples then prepare for evening
Soon tavernas come alight
Poolside dwelling welcomes back
Two weary souls from day outside
Scorching sun takes all about us
Thanks for love where we abide
Since we came and soaked our souls
In this perfect atmosphere
Love has blossomed even further
All is wonderful never fear
Patio evenings lying out
Herb aroma fills the nose
Drifting in and out of sleepy
Eyes feel heavy in repose
Cool wet noses brush our legs
Warm fur strokes a silken pass
Feline friends have come to visit
Glad that we are home at last
Nervous ******* lying still
Mewing loudly all surpassed
Two so gentle but true survivors
Bright eyes hiding traumas past
How lovely to have given respite
As more and more attached we grew
Warm and tender stroking softly
Alongside us as if they knew
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 12:11 PM UTC
One day Professor George Knox
Sunbathed on some Greek rocks;
He saw something rude:
A girl swimming ****
So he photographed Pandora's box.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
Happily she walked towards home.
Bubbling and rippling like river foam.
A man passed by dressed well.
Entered her nostrils fishy smell.
She looked at the man and walked.
Away from him she quickly stalked.
As she walked a soldier crossed her.
Neatly dressed, wearing cap of fur.
She smelt bad odor of mulch rotten.
She gazed at him with face sullen.
As she came very near to her house.
A woman stood in saree and blouse.
Bad odor of **** and rancid butter.
As if the woman came from gutter.
She entered and disgust could be seen.
Thinking why don't they stay clean.
Her son came running with a smile.
Holding his nose stopped awhile.
Said ' mom why don't you bathe,
Your sweat is smelly, you're sunbathed'.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
work, and work, night and day
no sleep, no rest, no small getaway
sick, and sick, and violently ill
sick, still sick, pop a pill
dream, a dream, a beach so clear
dream, and dream, a sunbathed dear
warm, so warm, so smooth to touch
warm, so warm, so very much
sunbathed beauty, in the sand
sunbathed lover, take my hand
warm, so warm, almost too much
warm, and warm, i'm warm to touch
fever, haze, and dream awake
sick, so sick, more pills to take
drowsy, dizzy, daisy dukes
again, again, again she pukes
sleepy, sick, and a sunbathed beauty
this medicine is kind of fruity. . . .
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 2:50 AM UTC
I shouldn’t write about you, but tonight I went star gazing and I thought about everyone I’ve ever made love with.
Your name crossed my mind and it drowned me in a flood of memories.
The first time you came over, you took my shirt off like rapid fire. Your breath smelt of ****** cigarettes and Redbull.
You’ve been drinking.
Your hair was all over the place hitting me here and there. I tried to place my fingers in-between your locks. But eventually I took your shirt off.
Ten minutes passed by and we were naked. Your body below me and I was crouching lower and getting closer to your ****** I kissed your thighs, licked them gently like a lollipop, savoring the the taste of your skin.
No one would ever taste like you do against my teeth. My tongue. My mouth.
You were so wet. I was so *****
We switched sides, you’re on top now. Your mouth against my neck, your teeth making way into my skin like a thirsty vampire you bit me.
Your hands slowly skimming my chest and tracing my tattoos.
Everything was so perfect wasn’t it?
The way the moonlight hit your body, the temperature of the room wasn’t freezing but when our bodies were close we could feel them melting.
Funny thing, we didn’t have *** it took us three years for that to happen. I’m not sure if I wasn’t ready too or if I was afraid too.
But when we did, your body felt like an ocean, and I was drowning out at sea.
I had trouble breathing but you were like oxygen to my lungs and I was alive. More alive than I’ve ever been. Thinking I never loved you would be a lie, and I’ve been constantly telling myself I didn’t.
But ********* I did. I loved you so much, but you were the girl with crystal blue eyes that broke my heart. The girl that got away. The one who swam in the night sky and sunbathed perched on the crescent moon.
You often cross my mind and I won’t lie I miss you, our ****** friendship we had.
The reason being because you showed me how to love myself. I respect you for that, I respect you for the human you are. Even if your feet were cold with me, I learned and I lived, I was the hero in my own story.
You will always be an important piece of my life. Even if you’ve disappeared from
It, we were fire and gasoline.
We could’ve been beautiful.
We will never know now, and I’m okay with that.
You are greatly missed.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
My daddy—he once told me
don’t ever play with nuns
they’ll hit you with their rulers
it won’t be any fun
I snuck out of that prison
and now I’m on the run
Once freed from that schoolhouse
I sunbathed in the sun
I stayed out late, I went on dates
looking out for number-one
When I think of what I went through
of all the tired repressive lies
I keep running wise, in slick disguise
my purpose is renewed
Don’t ever let ‘em tell you
you can’t have any fun
If they preach that hackneyed drivel
grab some things and run
.
.
Songs for this:
Cold Heart (PNAU Remix) by Elton John & Dua Lipa
I'm Still Standing by Elton John
Jan 16, 2025
Jan 16, 2025 at 11:48 AM UTC
But lately,
I've been falling like rain,
collectively puddling at the edges of your rain boots,
splash,
your boots bright red
like my cheeks the first time we impromptu'd to the beach
because we didn't have anything better to do,
and everyone forgot us anyway.
My pants were, peach,
or maybe coral,
but rolled up enough to see the sharped edges of my ankles,
because it was what I could afford to give you,
I had lost those trimmings long ago to the world,
even though it never gave me any of my pieces back,
and speaking of,
I still have white pieces of sand in my pockets,
and maybe if I poured them out on your floor,
we could have had a beach of our very own.
And I could roll down those pants, you could change into your teal shirt,
and we might have sunbathed
in our own warmth,
glowing yellow and bright
like those little specks in your eyes
nobody ever notices,
but I knew they were there.
That's what happens when you pay attention to the details of people,
You find in them colors that are too hard to name,
but
if you have a color wheel and a pen, you can find out what they're called, and even if you can't,
you can make up your own as you go along, like;
Greasy-pizza-stain-from-the-little-shack-on-the-water-red,
and light-2009-Pontiac-G6-that-got-you-to-the-beach-when-you-had-no-place-else-to-go-grayish-blue.
You can even almost mix these
colors into paint,
and hand them out in pamphlets to all of your friends and family;
"Here's the shade of green
the leaves were on the tree she sat on with me."
"This is the shade of pink
her lips were when she said 'I love you.'"
"And here's the shade of red
I saw when I heard her say goodbye."
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
The river spoke to me.
I fell under the spell
Cast by his flowing voice.
A great rain ravaged the land,
Tearing at the innocent trees,
The skies mourned,
Crying even when
I finally arrived
At a sunbathed glade,
The eye of the storm,
Where everything
Stood still.
A god slept next to me.
The shadows of his face
Shifted with a graceful fluidity.
His skin was like silk,
Rippling in the breeze,
Perfect and serene.
If he opened his eyes,
I imagined they'd be
Priceless pearls
From the depths of the sea.
I watched him sleep.
Tiny puffs of air,
A manifestation of his
Once-divine breath,
Escaped his weary lips.
His chest rose and fell,
The vein in his neck throbbed angrily,
The blood inside
Surging against a dam.
I watched you sleep.
A wisp of air ruffled your
Indecisive hair,
The candle in the sky
Moved again,
Outlined the features of your
Now-mortal face,
Once lovely.
You roll over.
I watch your back, and
Before long,
I breathe with you.
In and out,
In and out,
In and out...
Until,
at last,
we converge.
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 7:09 PM UTC
At six in the morning when the inches
of snow are still holding the sunshine
off with their vacant swelling hills
and troughs, I hear the passing traffic
a block east. Will the traffic stop?
When I say traffic, I mean the rumble of coal
cars two miles distant. I mean garbage
trucks full of yawning men I don't know
and garbage I've known for a week.
I mean the women leaving hospitals
bound for sunbathed sleep habits
and more long days of night. When I say
traffic, I mean the adolescent fox foraging
through the Baptist churchyard. I mean
the line of metal carriages trailing
from checkout line 10. I mean the blood
racing to my arm after we spent the night
holding each other.
When I say blood racing I mean the multiplying
and dividing of cells, beats in a symphony built
up, crumbling down by an ancient arithmetic
pulling us in, broken gravity we fight by holding
onto it, clutching it to our hearts as we step into
the earth.
When I say blood racing, I mean the tiny
blind lives bustling under flesh overpasses,
blood cells commuting perpetually even after
years of smoking cigarettes, lungs an oil spill
butterfly resting in the chest. When I say
six in the morning, I mean the dark hour,
my second wind, when I rise to clear our
tables and stack the dishes in the sink.
I mean the hour you finally went to bed
after we fell asleep on the couch, again.
I mean the hour I crept into the hall
to take out the trash, tight hand-rolled cigarette
patient on my lip.
When I say six in the morning, I mean the time
between the milk man and the sunrise, I mean
the minutes falling around the decaying beauty
of gold and scarlet leaves prostrate on cold
sidewalks.
When I say decaying beauty, I mean the wizened
grey tree, standing naked, no, stooping
over the fence by your road.
When I say stooping, I mean the man draped
in a scarlet vest and goldenrod button-down
wincing himself upright on the stool, unconcerned
with the dark pub behind him or the faces bent
through his glass in the dim refractions of the Open sign,
faces bent over mostly empty glasses, empty faces.
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
I heard I could tie all my veins and arteries together and they would circle the earth so I thought if we laced ours together we could reach the moon
and watch stars blaze like one hundred billion cigarettes in the dark
skinny dip through purple orange green supernova explosions
curl up in a crater and watch the world spin like a cumbersome ballerina then we’d dive back down from the moon to the mothership
and unbraid our veins, separating mine from yours.
But without those vascular knots we’d start drifting apart just like Pangaea.
We’d both begin forgetting how we ballroom danced through constellations together how our fingertips wrinkled like walnuts outside the atmosphere
how we sunbathed under the incandescence of blue supergiants
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Blossoms growing
in earnest spring.
Leaves in meadows,
winds that sing.
Birds call out
with tranquil breath
as I lie still
in flowers of death.
In sunbathed glory,
creatures bask.
And I with them
without my mask.
The only place
where I can go,
be understood
for what I know
is here,
the place of broken dreams.
The graveyard
where you once met me.
You saw without
society's
disguise for ones
like you and me.
But you grew up
deprived of truth,
the one I found
while in my youth.
I handed you
a flower and smiled.
You said,
"Beautiful as always, child."
But you still couldn't
understand
why I stayed in
forsaken land.
You went your way
and I went mine.
You couldn't see
beauty divine.
You still cry every time
you come.
You know nothing
of what I've done.
There's nothing here,
so pass on by.
Ignore my life
until I die,
and then you'll say
those lies and thoughts.
"I loved you."
Yet, here I will rot
until that fateful
day draws near,
and you come home
to greet me here.
The people come
and speak their minds.
"You meant so much."
"You were so kind."
They talk from their
experience.
Wait some time
and forget your death.
The sadness you have
won't subside
from your regrets
before you died.
Feel the emptiness
fill your bones.
Then I will sit
by your gravestone
and say to you
the truth I know.
"I'm dead inside,
like you below."
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 6:08 PM UTC
The Ocean whispered to me once
as I hovered twenty feet above it
The shore was frozen at the sand
a blanket of white foam stuck in time
Rivers turned into trees, their
roots longing to return to the city
The sunbathed mountains
looked over and laughed.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:55 AM UTC
today is a picture postcard
by the sea
but this is no Caribbean island
Sunbathed island yes
no coconut trees
willow and sycamore
no sunbathers on the beaches
but beaches all the same
today is as good as it gets
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
Where do the sunbathed birds go?
I want to know because I'm bleached pale
with the winters woes
and I want out of this cage.
I want to sunbathe were the birds might be,
with their twittering tweetles
and the promise of spring that is so soon around the corner.
Here the weather is just as bi-polar as I believe myself to be.
I'm a self proclaimed doctor with a self proclaimed condition,
and I am prescribing myself a day in the sunshine.
I can't wait to be where the robins lay their eggs,
where the sparrows fly with a glint of their tail left behind them,
and where that indistinguishable "too big for its britches" bird
finds himself his next meal... slowly...
So please, can you give me any directions
to where the sunbathed birds go?
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 6:14 PM UTC
My heart sunbathed in your shimmer
So lost my magical lover
When I hear a door knock
I rush with my feeble knees to unlock
Peer through the peephole
Thought my lover has found home
So expectant are my bruised eyes
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
The timeless sound of buzzing, sap and tweet
Winning over the rushing clock of Athens' heat
In the garden, souls rest their busy minds
while
the birds
and insects
make a mess of sounds with the wind
When some humans peacefully disrupt the humming for a second,
my mind goes to the clouds.
From where I see the character...
a chubby black bird playing with dry leaves on the ground. Or...is it looking for something? maybe a lost bright feather
to regain self confidence. In vain.
Cause little does it know what's not safeguarded can't remain.
I pity it for a while as my eyes take up the sunbathed trees
and the little creature gets even closer to me.
...Here's to say that if I've ever accomplished something in life,
that is not posing a threat to a chubby black bird in its pursuing rite.
and the spectacle background,
Grasshoppers, waxwings, dragonflies, swallows and bugs
try desperately to be successful in their appearance. But they need to resign themselves to their beautiful lack of musical coherence.
I'll get down from the clouds,
say goodbye to my courageous little friend
and head to thousands of years ago.
Good luck with your feather, bro
...Well, maybe it was just looking for food after all.
we, humans, tend to complicate everything when we have our minds in the clouds...
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC
In the bower, shell of earth,
She stood, sunlight bathed.
Bare apparition near the hearth,
Reveals skin to eyes depraved.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
The weather has new record breaks
along the beach
along the lake
I asked for drink and got sunbathed
This county's too hot for snow flakes
The shoreline sang (maybe)
and swept away.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Statius, sweet poet, accompany by my side,
While I muse quietly over my changeless love;
Come walk with me closely, matching with slow stride,
In search, for I search in vain, for my dove.
I curse just my luck, cause on this mild day,
She works, and her pretty face, seem miles away.
Past hours of recent weeks, Statius, I do tell,
Of how tender lips have spoken to mine own,
And here I sit, with you great poet, in the sunbathed Bell;
My ears have made my heart joyous welcoming her lovely tone.
So, my Emily, hear this tune, and for sure, truly do know;
That you are missed by me and my friend, much more than
My tune could ever show.
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
I want to feel the build at the tip of your tongue,
I want to feel you move through me in waves
That detonate the pleasure running through my body.
I want to feel the bubbles skimming their way
Up my blossoming body,
Creating pathways made for your palms,
For your perfect fingers,
For your uniquely possessing touch.
I want to feel your lips linger on my sunbathed skin
As I trace patterns with my fingernails into your flesh.
I want to feel your love scorch me inside and out
While your fingers burn,
Destroying me
In the most beautiful way I could imagine.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
Kamala sunbathed
****** art
where in
heart she
fly to
virtual beach
in LA
so Leroy
fell and
took her
task there
in Philadelphia
her adherent
of folk
from downtown
here and
ole USA
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 6:45 AM UTC
Tell me who you wish for me to be
Ill be silent, waiting patiently
Gave up on my perfect memories
Haunted by the things you did to me
All of these faces they seem just the same
And all of these places I've watched go up in flames
Telling renditions of tragedy and shame
I'm on a mission to make it one more day
All these things
They build up in me
All these sins
They've corrupted me
Trust myself
To never trust again
Call for help
I wish I had a friend.
All of these things, they build up in me
All of these sins, they've corrupt me
Can you see, can you tell,
I am a broken soul destined for hell
Ohhh
Sunbathed, in the mornings light
When the night is gone
And the feeling that I can't contain comes around
The sheets, of my bed
seem to be, where I'll drownnnnnn
Locked inside, the tiny chamber, of my mind, I try to find, a reason to, convince myself,
I will be fine, just in due time,
Torn frommmmm, this reality
I'm still hereee, but it's not where I'm meant to beeee
Press rewind, and take a trip, though empty halls in a fractured glimpse, of passageways to yesterday's, that shaped me to who I am today, and question why, just one more time, you think that this would turn out fine
Conscious but not
Speaking but not heard
I used to flock, a sheep within the herd
Seen what it was,
The Shepard never learns
Stirring the ***
But don't expect the burn
Tearing off all of this pretense my heart, is shackled and bound in a fence where I keep it I've seen all your crimes and misdeeds turn to secrets so trust me when I say if I loved you, just delete it.
**** you.
Each and every scar on my heart seems to lead to a time and place where my trust and my faith was just wrongfully placed and at no ones fault, just seemingly t my own, Id give it all back to never remember that home.
That home.
That face.
And those lies that we told, that once we're all true, I don't think you know, but that makes it hurt all the more.
Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 10:02 AM UTC
I'm making you more beautiful than you are, aren't I?
Until the next time I see you, and I say hi.
Playing it over and over in my head.
For a shimmer what you did and said.
For a moment what you waved around.
It got sealed up tight and sound.
Like from a crime scene I got it all.
All subliminal ticks, however small.
I knew when you saw me in that hall.
When I saw you in that room against that wall.
That was the moment I was hungry for.
I knew whatever happens, I'd be hungry more.
The instant you presence near me was taken.
I knew that I'd be dealing with a break in.
You robbing from my thinking space.
My thoughts building your perfect face.
For days after we've met in that place.
I'd think of your pristine grace.
What you held in those moments few.
Behind those eyes pearly two.
Of the breathlessness I hazed myself into.
Did you see me like I saw you?
I hate holding on to hope and belief.
But that's all I have now, reveries, reality is a thief.
Until and if you ever tell me your side.
The wall will stay up, our thoughts never collide.
But did you, did you notice me all over the place?
How I puppy-eyed your sunbathed face.
How we both warmly occupied that space.
Impatience will now eat away my days.
For the next time I see your face.
Will I be out of this exit-less maze?
Get me out, please let me hear your voice.
One more time by chance's choice.
Now with the remnant flickers I've gathered.
Of those memories chaotically scattered.
And processing turned up to eleven.
I'm half-present in my every twenty-four seven.
Working on what should be, could be, would be.
Did you, do you, will you, remember me?
Until the next time I see you and say hi, again.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 12:07 AM UTC
"But why do you still love him?"
The question runs through my mind
trampling all my other thoughts
its syllables intertwining in the lyrics of songs
I can no longer listen to
without forming black trails
all over my cheeks.
The truth is I do not have an answer.
I believe it will be one of the things in my life
which I will never have an answer to,
along with
"How did we end up like this?"
and
"What the hell did I do to deserve it?"
The only thing I do know
is that I loved you.
I loved you so deeply that your name
is now engraved on my heart
forever imprinted as its first owner.
I loved you so madly that you became
my every thought
and I think a hell of a lot.
I loved you with every ounce of my soul
my entire being and more
if that's even possible.
And when people ask me how I knew it was love
I laugh and roll my eyes,
because how could I not have known?
If you had been the rain
I would have run out into a storm
barefoot and without a raincoat
so that I would have been able to be with you
without any barriers.
If you had been the sun
I would have gone to the beach
and sunbathed for weeks on end
just to absorb as much of you as possible.
If you had been the wind
I would have let you blow through my hair
tangling it in every direction
so that I would have some form of memory of you.
I also know that our love was beautiful
and it was kind
and I needed it as much as the air that I breathe.
It was not perfect
and it was one hell of a ride
but what's life without a bit of a rollercoaster?
I will never know for sure if you ever loved me
as strongly, and as wildly as I love(d) you
but I do know that you loved me
and that is enough.
Thank you for making me feel precious
like I was worth something
like I was worth loving.
You will forever have a place in my heart
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC