"sunburst" poems
What a face
"Sells"
Abruptly she yells
Matte burning dry
Just try
Too moisten her lips
She's the Red devil
From hell why does her
orange face peel sell?
The right color
a psychic won't tell
Wishing well drenched
He touched my orange juice
"All Frenched"
She loves to slice and
he peels what appeal
orange saffron sauce
One last juicy squirt
divorce
It's time for fresh squeeze
Too frozen concentrate
The happy hour "Orange" feel
no other place like fate
Ten times real
"One" face peel has been
love absorbed
Like lemon meringue
Tainted love
Bitter grind soft butter glove
Do you mind orange flame
(The Spa) sells to be loved
Tra la so kind all Grunge
Going "Wawa" coffee cruel
Other colors haha
Movie set Orange payroll
lounge tease squirt
But destroyed by the evil
spell curse
Summoned on sunburst
But we need the Orange
before the sun comes
Like clones orange, you glad
we have "Green Apple"
phones
One step beyond orange
zones
I don't want to burst your
orange sauce
Grand Marnier starry twist
of orange
Two timing orange yogurt
Taste to tangy it hurt
Hey Yo Orange peel Spa
Still sticks Orange Julius
flirt
O outrageous P pick
What turns us on and gets us sick
Plan your work and work your plan
Never offend her
Let's see the chef make you love her
Creamified dreamlike Whip free
The orange mousse pie
Let me hear it yummy to lie
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
Mythical.
The artist is an old one,
Un-earthly and infinite,
Vast as heaven and the void,
The limitations of good and evil,
I am immune, yet soul crushingly bound to its power,
I am a toothpick,
Yet I am useful for now,
As I plan my escape,
Writing an endless map in memo pads and text files,
I tell myself it will someday be worth the while.
The artist is like you, reader,
The artist is ugly, disgustingly so.
The artist is beautiful, and puts me to shame.
The artist could burn the world with a thought,
But couldn’t break its teeth with a diamond,
No matter how hard it tried.
The artist is fictional,
Contextual,
Known only to I,
Especially as the artist.
I bet its laughing at me this second,
My feeble attempts to escape a napkin,
A tool to further other means.
I don’t mind it,
In fact, it’s rewarding in a way,
The artist lacks definition,
But moves with a sway,
It is hard to defend.
[(Impossible to define)]
My role is that of a journal of skin,
A memory bank to which it is akin,
But my limit is reached,
Something has come to a head,
I can feel the artist defined…
It has taken form,
And now,
Unfortunately,
Dead.
Sunburst
I wanted to ask it what it was thinking,
But I think I know now;
Bad things.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:15 AM UTC
These eyes have seen the fire from the sky
I felt the heat a thousand clicks away
At first no screams, just people turned to shadows
A sunburst touched to earth one fatal day.
These eyes have seen my City turned to ashes
I have heard her women sobbing in despair
I stood alone amidst my city dying
No God above to whom I’d make a prayer..
And now I stand before a Buddhist temple
A different city and a river view.
This city seems most beautiful and vibrant
Hiroshima what has become of you?
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 7:31 PM UTC
so much depends
upon a green pencil
fitted snugly between
the blue and the yellow
upon a line drawn
across a page
where the sky
and sunburst clay meet
— as neighbours
who smile and wave
without names
or words exchanged —
upon a silence punctuated
by shafts of pine
shaved close by winding
laneways into storyteller points
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 3:37 AM UTC
-for Zukiswa Mvunguse~
and for
~ Jul,
who once again,
loved each line best~
having already deduced that:
“the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloratura”^
the titled alliteration teases him into thinking
there, is more to be said,
more to be prayed,
the unplanned lesser lesson is as-of-the-yet unlearned,
and the sunburst of a full fledged
lying-in-bed born from a static spark of kinetic energy,
awaking in an unfamiliar bed
or a too familiar state of mind,
begs for birth and vainglorious death-by-anon/amity
of another poem
I have written poems commissioned,
“write about suicide,” asked a friend,
“take this word and artfully knead it,” once, was once an oft request,
twisty manipulate your scheming resources into
finely assaying a field rock raw,
laboratory mind-mine it into an essay that delve dives
where you fear to treacherous tread,
resultant, an awkward prayer, now, a valued mineral
no poem is truly planned and no prayer ever truly answered,
but as you compose, pushing the last, next word
ever farther to the right,
you self-confess, expecting no absolution, that the poem,
this one as well,
and the next, and the next, and the next
has always been planned since your inception,
always a prayer asked, and in creation conception,
answered even if not directly answered,
for
in the bare minimum asking,
is the answering,
is the planning,
is the poem and the prayer,
is his owned
alliteration
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 8:16 AM UTC
Sailing through purple skies unhindered
And breathe crystal snowflake frosted air
Floated past the mysterious Weeping Mountains
And yellow forests called Warlocks Fair
Trembling
Wandered the underworld
Drunk with false courage from Cretan wine
Leapt bravely from star to star
Journeyed through red starred scattered galaxies
Witnessing the birth and death of time
The finality of the forever feared tolling
The ringing of deaths solemn bell
Conjured this was in my mind quite carefully
For I am she who tells the tale
Commanding the heavens and the earth with my pen
To me the four winds bow low and kneel
The water robed river nymphs pirouette
Wild horned stags vault high to my music
You must admit the scene quite captivating and surreal
The moon kiss my cheek with shy affection
Apollo grace me with a sunburst arrow of gold
Syrian lotus seed the door to the universe
Held tightly in small clutching hands
Where lies stories soon to be told
She who tells the tale
Sprung from blood of ancient lands
Portraying in ink and script
The dark images of man.
@ Copyright Tammy M. Darby Dec. 12, 2018.
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
Maybe we can kiss the sky
until the sun sets and fall
like ashes into the ocean
from burning up in the
sunburst colored atmosphere.
and as steady as
the sky
the stars,
the sun and
the moon.
I swear my heart will beat for you.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
We were primates swinging from the branches of skyscrapers
And our cooing come ons lost in translation
Sharing body heat to keep us warm inside old office buildings
Where the ghosts of typewriters flit about the ground floor
And we let our blood vessels ebb and flow
We became cynical at the thought of falling in love
Like hard tack candy caught in the teeth of giants
We're getting older but our mouths still tastes like strawberries
We'll build our home on a mountain of shopping carts
Our children will be the hum of the generator
And the occasional sunburst we get through the grimy window
Can be the laughter of a family board game
Unconscious of our own bodies, not knowing our own
Only the ebb and flow you, the sky, that falls
Upon the roar of I, the wild ocean
With our bodies building a sanctuary for the sparrows
Will you still love me when the bomb turns the cities to snowflakes?
The sky is on fire but at least I know you're warm
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
A story about a captivating woman I know and care for:
The city was dark and desolate, filled with vermin, decayed. She walked down the different lanes of alternative artistic mediums, listening for a place where her soul would find itself. Empty dilapidated homes, homes that people seemed to have lived in though there was no sign of them; there were no misplaced lawn gnomes. There were empty clay pots.
Down a dark alley she found a concave mirror, she stepped into it. The heavens rumbled and the stars condensed and exploded into black holes and gas giants, the Milky Way sped up its rotation, the sun became brighter, and the Earth was scorched. Just the order of the day. Then she stepped out, covered in a sunburst gown, her hair had gone from midnight dark to sunrise bright, she looked back in and smiled. Just a smirk. She walked up the dark alley as every step breathed new life into the cold concrete. The sound of music played. Flowers and trees sprang up from the cracks, more were created.
She laughed loudly and from her lips beams of light showered forth onto the cold earth. She flung her hair back and water shot forth from its motion, the streets flooded. Two men in a boat, one wearing green the other a light lavender came rowing to her. He asked her, “Which one do you think is asking? Which one do you think believes?”. She smiled. Then she awoke, to find herself on her knees, hands together pointed towards heaven. All she had to do was ask, what music was playing?
- Life
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
The fearless instraction.
The love of things, willow.
The newness of strings in a row.
A topic injusted,
A fated carnation.
Lapelled in your silkiest glow.
I want you not nearly.
Horizoning sunburst.
You're the fewest that I'll ever know.
I'll meet you on morrows.
With clumsiest wordings.
You're the seeds that I've not seen to sow.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 10:43 AM UTC
Time hasn't been good to you, has it?
It took you in its rough hands and it threw you up against that wall.
It was slow torture to you, all those questions of how and why,
When no one would even tell you who or when or where.
You didn't even know what life was then-
That first sunburst, first roll of thunder,
Didn't make sense, not any at all. Not to you.
You try to forget but it's not like that this time.
You try to talk about something, anything else-
And yet your life just comes spilling out; a torrent,
A cascade, a parade of all your worst daydreams-
****** in front of his face and clogging his ears and nose and mouth,
Congealing in the winter sun. And suddenly you feel that weight fall off your chest,
And stand, leave him there; dying, drowning, choking on your memories.
If anyone needed the drug it was you-
You needed the weightlessness, the carelessness it lent you.
First the Vicodin and then the morphine, always on the hunt
For something stronger, something that could really ****
All that pain and time and **** piling up inside you. And you found it,
Found your release, that sweet drifting sensation it gives you
And no side effects! Or so they swear, all the ones who went before you,
Walked down that road lined with needles
And turned it into one paved with something stronger,
That one drug you'll never get enough of: words
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 10:08 PM UTC
Sins of the father,
Wrought perfection among the world,
In ways I feel farther,
From where the rest unfurled,
Colors are more vivid,
Life is now peak experience,
The people are livid,
But men will take chances,
Among rolling hills,
And steep cliffs,
Into the nine hells,
Just to procure these gifts,
To create the song of progress,
And sing it from their peaks,
Where parasites arrest,
But with knives and leeches the hosts will leak.
The sunlight warms our skin,
And generates life,
And blights are gems we force to glint,
The straightest of diamonds are forged in strife,
Cut in sharp language,
Originating in the furnace of others,
Whether in joy or anguish,
The culmination of lovers,
The poets of life,
The artists of death,
Photographers of honor,
And authors of theft,
The illustrators of ethics,
Profanity’s architects,
Gaia’s ventriloquists,
And the firstborn’s defects.
Formulated impressions have no need to advance,
The darkness of these times,
Warrant no more than slight glance,
If mimes have nothing to say,
We’ll burn the sky as they dance.
This is the letter home from the warrior,
And the drunken hubris of a poet,
The weathered steps of the courier,
And those he had met in his journey,
Whether or not they knew it.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:12 AM UTC
The lines
around
your eyes
and mouth
that
appear
and
disappear
with every
sunburst smile
are the
little maps
of where you have been
and
where I hope
to travel.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
I want to taste your constellations
Freckling your galaxy
I want to feel
Your sunburst kiss.
Guide my hands
Around your orbit
Where I can drift
For eternity.
I am your satellite.
Your daybreak smile
Constantly in my head
Running revolutions
During my day.
I could get lost
In your cosmic gaze.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
We are all just fallen angels
Who’ve forgotten who we are
Sunburst from the realm of glory
Shadows of a distant star
Created, formed in perfect splendor
Placed in time and space and earth
To live and move and have our being
Touched with wonder from our birth
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 2:15 PM UTC
His body grounds me...
I was an alternating current
with a frayed wire
Sputtering... sparking...
Misfiring...
Alone and flickering in quiet desperation...
Then he drew me in with his hands
Held me tightly, pulling me close...
Inviting me into his Center
Insulating my circuits from the heat of their own charge,
Reigniting those cold, dead connections...
Redirecting, realigning
Aeons of my dissipated energies.
I become more, now, than some
Reckless, erratic sunburst...
Snapping and flaring on the mere surface of things...
A loving so strong it makes me re-enter the belly of the beast,
He and I, we become the pulse...
Folding ourselves into the warm, primitive heart of God...
Selflessness... Sacrifice...
Joy, Radiance... Gratitude...
I find all these things here.
And everything false just quietly disappears.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
I imagine you Sunburst
like that of a tye-died
Cloth I got at Folk festival
or a Dream-purple
vivid, visceral
a victory dance
with watery wide-eyes
bright and blue
perceptive, magnetic
hair of indecisive, interchangeable colour
A silhouette, a whisper
that smokes and billows
into the night sky
into the blood Moon bleed
-ing constellations
swallowed by Oblivion's jaws
My Sagittarius,
in whom I have found
a grace in the graceless
and serenity within the chaos
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
who told you
you were not beautiful?
does that mean
not worthy of their time?
but anyway
they stated as such
if anything
their actions proved otherwise
but no matter
I’m trying not to mind
that I was never real
figment of imagination
whatever you cast me
I betrayed love
and cast heroes into new moons
beached jellyfish
I’m learning to gather bones
painting a canvas
instead of
reading newsprint
sculpture of messy clay
ultimate opus
good gold
honest trinket
bees’ honey
I recognize my self
ageless blue
flame
in all that is
ugly
small practice
sunburst navel design
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
a pond of
water lilies
eggshell white
sunburst purple
reindeer red
mango orange
butterscotch blue
we
bloom at night
when
we capture
the
rays
from
the starlight
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
love
made of passion
sunburst
from
the
soul
while
the
young pony
that
sprint
through
the
wind
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
I watched the birds fly above the hilltops and steady cliffs.
I saw the sky fade from aqua blue to sunburst orange then to a deep purple.
I felt the ground below me massage every crevice I couldn't touch.
I realized right then and there that everything was going to be okay.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
Fifty years a-growing with my pigtailed friend
I was frogs and snails and she was sugar and spice
Attraction of tortoise petting a perfect way to diet
Red-faced, tongue-tied, secret Confirmation admirer
Nucleus beauty besotted beard route to romance
Coffee and gooseberries companionship cooking
Chicken and almonds the way to this man's heart
Townley Hall first loving to closeness ever after
Tented separation in Mweenish was chilly silliness
Yellow bikini starvation Brighton beach memories
Sneaking bedroom cuddles in Westone wedding
Graduated to Beaufield dinners and Blue Nun
Parents fret about their two kids with two kids
Life challenges met in the riches of poverty
Grateful when God's surprising Gift was given
Altogether life more balanced and beautiful
Entrepreneurial pride of parents flying high
The stars of sons the brightest in the sky
The workaday challenges a learning lesson
Lunch in Powerscourt the pleasure of poverty
We fly and we fall but catch each other every day
In heaven at last in the castle of our dreams
"Ticks all the boxes" of my blonde beauty
Perfect harmony a Gateway to perfect storm
Togetherness triumphs over taxman trials
Best times ever as we conquer the world
Olympic pride and gradual OU degrees
Make sunburst of pride as we grow
Icarus-like flight forgiven not forgotten
Revalue every "for granted" magic moment
"I want to grow old with you" wish and fear
Strength stronger than stupidity and stuff
In fear and loneliness I see fire and I see rain
I see sunny days now that we are one again.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 5:32 AM UTC
A bruised bird, full of blood hits hard rock
He leavest imprint in the life giving pursuit
In the way of sacrifice just no one can block
That glowing golden enchanting love route
Hunters are on the observation posts to see
How weak and strong animals quench thirst
That could be my friend either you or just me
To see and to follow in darkness the sunburst
Life is a strange hide and seek in life and death
With preordained destiny to complete the verdict
We are in cruel clutches of fate till the last breath
Without being in knowledge, perfect or imperfect
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
What did it take?
A beautiful boy packed tight
With no hint of a man’s chin
By his dad who
Kissed him goodbye
With a hope of seeing him later
What did he know?
Carrying a sunburst in canvas
To strangers who never noticed
That their end stood five-feet-two
With a running nose
And a mind full of his mum
What did he think?
Avoiding all eyes as he stood
Among them with a small chest
That felt ready to explode
With the pressure of keeping
A secret for moments more
What would he think?
His life now a curling photo on a shelf
In a home where a family once laughed
And dust on a street where people still
Buy drinks, phone covers and fruit
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC
Sunburst water, reflected up.
Rising above till it’s gone.
And where is it from
This potion of love.
Ponder on this
Till the autumn turns crisp,
Reflect the orange,
Send back the brightness.
Return the blues and the
Different hues.
The clean earth, the clean palate.
The clean, clean white
Rises above the kites.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 5:39 PM UTC