"sunnier" poems
It is occult, maybe, that we are twins
but not of Gemini
how you know
which streets to turn left at
while I have the names and no context
how you still smell like cinnamon
although I never saw you
rub powder against your skin.
We are in the same city now
we have the same radio stations.
I see you the way I see the outline of
a boot when I can’t touch slumber
not ethereal
but almost reduced to such a shape
a barbershop’s swirling bulb
stretched and sunnier when no one has
entered in some time.
Everything is magic
in desperation, everything is similar.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
The sea cast a gift ashore
one stormy sullen day
and the barren rocky coast
was suddenly recast
as a natural history museum.
A whale.
A real whale, just lying there
shining on the shale
In another time,
we'd have known how to react.
This astonishing bounty
would have been quickly stripped
Bones for building
baleen for support
blubber and oil for fuel.
But now it lay
surrounded by detritus
made of better stuff.
The truth was,
we didn't really need it,
couldn't really use it,
like being presented with
Casablanca on VHS.
A sign appeared:
"Quad bike rides, £2",
red paint on rainsoaked cardboard.
I wasn't tempted.
Children poked it with sticks
in a desultory way,
stricken, intrigued, ashamed,
and utterly dwarfed.
The weeks passed
as we coughed in embarrassment
not knowing what to do,
until finally
someone brought a digger down
and discretely buried the beast.
By now, it will be a perfect skeleton
a prehistoric wonder
an artefact from unjaded days
when nature could still astonish,
trampled by unknowing tourists
as they dream of sunnier beaches.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
*Remember when we used to play-fight on your same kitchen floor as mine
My little empath, I am so deeply sorry
I was your cruel filter which made me go blind, and to not realize how much further pain I had brought to you, I did not mind
You will always be mine, my beautiful empath
Your hair so much sunnier but your soul darkened from my distance
Your restless, enticed passion which breathes heavily in your eyes, I beg to return
If only I had listened to your beautiful cries, my sweet empath
We may have had another chance to find our young hearts again*
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
The world’s great age begins anew,
The golden years return,
The earth doth like a snake renew
Her winter weeds outworn;
Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam
Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
From waves serener far;
A new Peneus rolls his fountains
Against the morning star;
Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep
Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.
A loftier Argo cleaves the main,
Fraught with a later prize;
Another Orpheus sings again,
And loves, and weeps, and dies;
A new Ulysses leaves once more
Calypso for his native shore.
O write no more the tale of Troy,
If earth Death’s scroll must be—
Nor mix with Laian rage the joy
Which dawns upon the free,
Although a subtler Sphinx renew
Riddles of death Thebes never knew.
Another Athens shall arise,
And to remoter time
Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,
The splendour of its prime;
And leave, if naught so bright may live,
All earth can take or Heaven can give.
Saturn and Love their long repose
Shall burst, more bright and good
Than all who fell, than One who rose,
Than many unsubdued:
Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,
But votive tears and symbol flowers.
O cease! must hate and death return?
Cease! must men **** and die?
Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn
Of bitter prophecy!
The world is weary of the past—
O might it die or rest at last!
2.6k
I walked among the seven woods of Coole:
Shan-walla, where a willow-hordered pond
Gathers the wild duck from the winter dawn;
Shady Kyle-dortha; sunnier Kyle-na-no,
Where many hundred squirrels are as happy
As though they had been hidden hy green houghs
Where old age cannot find them; Paire-na-lee,
Where hazel and ash and privet hlind the paths:
Dim Pairc-na-carraig, where the wild bees fling
Their sudden fragrances on the green air;
Dim Pairc-na-tarav, where enchanted eyes
Have seen immortal, mild, proud shadows walk;
Dim Inchy wood, that hides badger and fox
And marten-cat, and borders that old wood
Wise Buddy Early called the wicked wood:
Seven odours, seven murmurs, seven woods.
I had not eyes like those enchanted eyes,
Yet dreamed that beings happier than men
Moved round me in the shadows, and at night
My dreams were clown hy voices and by fires;
And the images I have woven in this story
Of Forgael and Dectora and the empty waters
Moved round me in the voices and the fires,
And more I may not write of, for they that cleave
The waters of sleep can make a chattering tongue
Heavy like stone, their wisdom being half silence.
How shall I name you, immortal, mild, proud shadows?
I only know that all we know comes from you,
And that you come from Eden on flying feet.
Is Eden far away, or do you hide
From human thought, as hares and mice and coneys
That run before the reaping-hook and lie
In the last ridge of the barley? Do our woods
And winds and ponds cover more quiet woods,
More shining winds, more star-glimmering ponds?
Is Eden out of time and out of space?
And do you gather about us when pale light
Shining on water and fallen among leaves,
And winds blowing from flowers, and whirr of feathers
And the green quiet, have uplifted the heart?
I have made this poem for you, that men may read it
Before they read of Forgael and Dectora,
As men in the old times, before the harps began,
Poured out wine for the high invisible ones.
2.2k
Chameleons feed on light and air:
Poets’ food is love and fame:
If in this wide world of care
Poets could but find the same
With as little toil as they,
Would they ever change their hue
As the light chameleons do,
Suiting it to every ray
Twenty times a day?
Poets are on this cold earth,
As chameleons might be,
Hidden from their early birth
In a cave beneath the sea;
Where light is, chameleons change:
Where love is not, poets do:
Fame is love disguised: if few
Find either, never think it strange
That poets range.
Yet dare not stain with wealth or power
A poet’s free and heavenly mind:
If bright chameleons should devour
Any food but beams and wind,
They would grow as earthly soon
As their brother lizards are.
Children of a sunnier star,
Spirits from beyond the moon,
O, refuse the boon!
2.2k
There’s a woman like a dewdrop, she ’s so purer than the purest;
And her noble heart ’s the noblest, yes, and her sure faith’s the surest:
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre
Hid i’ the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster,
Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck’s rose-misted marble:
Then her voice’s music … call it the well’s bubbling, the bird’s warble!
And this woman says, ‘My days were sunless and my nights were moonless,
Parch’d the pleasant April herbage, and the lark’s heart’s outbreak tuneless,
If you loved me not!’ And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her,
Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her—
I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me,
And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!
2.2k
To be a memory walker
A director of dreams
Forgetting what is real
And what endings really mean
Replaying harsher words
And sunnier days as well
An archaic tape rewatched with an organizational system from hell
I rearrange the order
From which this life is lived
Creating full pockets of happiness without despair sprinkled in
And I'll lay here with the highlight reel
Aching for people I've loved
Forgetting its okay to let things end
The connection was enough
A bittersweet day for memories
When new life paths are clear
Upsetting to have had connections
so strong
Yet end up nowhere near
But you are happy
He is happy
They are happy
And really, so am I
But sometimes,
It feels good to see you again
Even just in my mind
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 8:50 AM UTC
You will be the "he" in all my writings,
& I'll spend days comparing you to things in nature.
& spend hours trying to figure out exactly what shade of brown your eyes are.
I'll wake up thinking if your morning was bright, just like your smile.
Falling
Falling
Falling
How is it that you're in every love song I hear?
& Every novel, poem and movie
You can make the sun seem sunnier,
Colors seem brighter
Being with you is like living in a constant state of euphoria,
and without you is endless.
I remember the moment I fell in love with you
& the moment that I knew you were the one.
Thank you for letting me be the one too.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Take me back to the days
When we were artists
With the clouds as the paint,
With the sky as the canvas;
Who sang their hearts out
In front of the electric fan
Which became the microphone and auto-tuner.
Take me back to the days
When we were adventurers
Who ran outside after morning showers to
Find the end of the rainbow
Hoping to meet a fellow
Who can grant our greatest wish
That tomorrow would be sunnier than today;
Who balanced between life and death
Every grocery shopping with our mothers
As we carefully tried to avoid the lines of the tiles which
We believed was made up of deadly red lasers.
Take me back to the days
When we were heroes:
Scientists who calculated the intensity of the rain
In the race of raindrops that
Roll down the car window
In the pouring traffic jam.
Ninjas who would wake up early to
Catch the floating dusts that swim in the sun's rays
When you open the curtains of the wide window.
Generals of an army who built
Mighty forts of cotton and feathers and
Found safety beneath warm pillows and sheets
On dark and windy nights.
Take me back to the days
When we were
Engineers,
Doctors,
Politicians,
Pilots,
Astronauts, and
Teachers
Take me back to the days
When we were
Who we wanted to be.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
Surely these surly bits
Must be burrs caught up in my
Makeup -
Making up reasons for
Why my spit was accidental.
I done been through a
Rough patch or two -
Crawling with these
Thorns in my knees
Across funky plateaus
That poke their chests out
In their scouts
For sunnier flora.
Though,
I assume their search
Didn't go over so well.
'cause these scabbings won't heal
Like I want them to,
Buried under gobs of
Ointment
That was supposed to take care of it
(And
One more bandage
Just in case).
I'm just moseying on through,
With my feelers out,
Making sure you're someone
I have to know.
In and on my way
Somewhere
In this crazy field,
Waiting for sunflowers
To bless my prayers
While I continue to
Make room for myself to
Slip past
Without being noticed.
I'm smiling so hard
To keep the soft-hearted
At bay -
Trying to avoid being forced
Into pinpoint relations
With clueless drifters
Who refuse to stay on their side.
They only mean well -
I know this,
I do.
But, the simple has yet to escape me.
Send your
Sympathies
To the weak ones,
Roleplaying
Alongside the meek,
For these are the creed
Who,
Without giving heed,
Deliver their lives
To bliss.
Sep 7, 2011
Sep 7, 2011 at 11:02 AM UTC
Soon the Dogwoods will bloom, and
bring one last gasp;
A eulogy for winter-
a final little bit of cold remembrance
for our unwashed faces.
Summer is for a different song. Brand new wrongs,
slick fingers and
a sunnier side of sin. The good kind.
Twixt those sweaty inner thighs
hides a secret worth savoring; a secret worth harboring.
Salvation is warm and...
I digress.
In the interim lies spring,
when we debate the merits of
crucifixion and/or fertility.
Around here, crucifixion wins since
we love a good ******
more than a good ****
Who am I to argue?
So we wait for
something different.
Breath bated -
anxiously anticipating change
with a hitch in our collective chest.
That change will come but
not before the blackberries have had their say.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
As March blows in
so does new life
new hope
new chances to fulfill dreams
to make them come true.
March 20th the first day of Spring
also known as the Spring Equinox.
One of the two days in the year
that the sun will rise due East
and set due West.
And with the arrival of this date
the days will become sunnier
and new life will start to bloom.
Although for some of us
we may not see it quite yet
after all we could still
get our fair share of snow.
But, March is the promise
that spring is beginning
that warmer brighter days
are ahead of us.
Watching the seasons
especially spring
is a wonderful reminder
of learning to wait for things
to arrive when they are meant to.
After a long and what seemed
like a very cold winter
feeling the warmth
of the sun on my face
through the window
as I stood admiring
the rise of the outside thermometer
it brought a very warm feeling
to my heart.
Early spring is such a beautiful time
but, many times
the beauty is missed
in the longing
for what hasn’t yet arrived.
Rest assure that beauty is just ahead
because that is the promise of spring
new hopes, new chances to
make dreams come true
and Spring, she never disappoints.
We just sometimes
must be patient enough
to let her show
her beautiful self
when she is ready.
Take time to admire the beauty
of early spring
as she slowly stretches
and yawns herself awake
to dazzle us
with new beauty, hopes
dreams and growth
as March blows in….
~
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 12:56 AM UTC
Escaping the distance beside me
Lying in a sea of false hope
Destined to sink into the bottom of the bluest of black holes
Reaching out to sunnier side of the fence
Unmindful of being sensitive
Disgusted with myself;
Trapped inside of hell
Giving into temptations, save me
Losing sight of all my blessings daily
Wishing I could rewind time and fix the cause
Wishing I could put my life on hold and pause
But I'm trapped in waves of lies above my head
Drowning in your adversity instead
While your laughing because you knew it couldn't be
You love the stench of your own misery
And the weight of guilt upon my conscious
Burdens me a heavy distress
Problems I eventually confess
And you vilify me nonetheless
But it hurts to have to caused so much pain
Lost devotion and found a web to weave my shame
Breathing gets easier day by day as I'm looking into my reflection
Swallowing my vanity to find a whole new perception;
I'm forgiven somewhere deep inside
But lust could not survive the hills we climb
You swear you'd die with all your lies
The indications I never recognized
The facts that keep me awake at night
Knowing we were never right
My stomach's turning,
fuel burning
a few things I still need to learn and
get over and just forget
all our empty promises
Like loyalty and trust
the things we never get enough of
The things we gave up and broke
How lust has me like a choke hold
It's got me wearing false smiles and happiness
Keeping the distance between the both of us
In the sea of covers, waves of lies
Captive of the guilt that keeps me alive
Lost the key, hopped the fence
Suffering in consequence
The things I need, the hurt you bleed
I loathe the stench of my own misery
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 1:46 AM UTC
Wake up
Come on, we have a busy day
Come on, you'll waste your day away,
We can go faraway or to a cafe
We can play or do something cliche
Wake up
Get up
I know it's hard and the world feels like a dump
Make that small jump
I won't judge if you firstly trudge
Once you're up, have courage
Once you've gotten up things will be sunnier
Life could be funnier
Wake up
Come on, I want to help you smile
I know the world is hostile
But it will be worthwhile
I want to be the ketchup to your chip
Come on, let's go on a trip
If you get tired you can relax in my imagination
You'll still have my full admiration
Slowly realising this affirmation
Is my own situation
That would be nice,
If I listened to my own advice
and woke up.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Deep down mind’s dark alley
Lies a room, almost a crypt,
With old memories stashed together
hazy, misty, nondescript
They were once fresh,
vivid and flagrant,
in times sunnier,
merry and vibrant
Until –
A day a friend lost,
A day a love broken
A day innocence died
Or a day trust stolen
Each time filled this room
With never-to-return memories
And I stay away from the crypt
To save myself the miseries
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
Meze
*Meze or mezze /ˈmɛzeɪ/ is a selection of small dishes served in the Middle East and the Balkans as breakfast, lunch or even dinner.
-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's a meze day,
Many small poems arrayed,
A tasting menu,
Hummus and babaganoush,
Small observations,
Pita dipping,
Long writs tabled,
Unless dragged out from the wine cellar,
For another meal,
Another mood.
They'll keep,
or not.
The bay and beach have been traded in,
For Western Mass. mountains,
The highland region,
The Berkshires, the Green and the Taconic Mountains,
Formed over half a billion years ago
When Africa collided
with North America.
(Just for a weekend, a traitor, I'm not.)
*Different insects checking me out,
Crash landing in my chest hair jungle
To get a taste of a Long Island salt air,
Fresh blood and poetry from a foreign tongue.
Mount Greylock asks me what I got to say.
I said I got grey locks older than you, friend.
I am a billion years old, son of the copulation
Tween the Sun and and a passing comet,
The Atlantic,
My amniotic fluid birthstone unevaporated..
Greylock sniffs, mumbles,
just another New Yorker.
*The clouds different, thick slabs, bank-heads keeping
My sun-father from showing his true colors,
My skin seeks his restorative powers,
Burn the strain, the stress, the black circles from
Within and without, but this is a partly cloudy day.
Sooner than me, the leaves will be red and gold,
The season of long sunnier days forgotten,
The trees that
Fill the panorama,
Point their soon-to-be
Denuded branch fingers at me
Accusingly,
L'etranger,
You brought winter's chill,
A lie but perhaps not,
For they are sensing the
Inhabiting cold in me.
A strange day, every asking, passing thought
Thrown back in my face,
And stewed, stir fried up
All in vain attempts to keep warmer
Just a little bit
Longer.*
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
I was a new-born when you promised
You would carry me anywhere I wanted
And at any time I wanted,
You promised me safety
You promised me freedom.
Dedicated and deceptive
You had teased me growing up
But I never would have predicted
How malicious you could be
You fooled everyone, even me.
Parts of you were destroyed
But you always found other ways
To stick out, ugly and obscene
You screamed at me, you harassed me
And everyone else recoiled.
You were ruthless, relentless,
I needed your permission to leave
On the worst days I could do nothing
But lie there and seethe.
You were always there waiting,
Until I was distracted, to capture me
Trapping me in a time loop dimension
Loop after loop after loop;
Like an elaborate knot.
My tongue no longer tasted
My humanity began to rust
Like a corpse and its restless ghost
I was dormant but deprived of sleep
How could I rest under your glare?
Like a deranged anaesthetist
You forced me to the very edge
I hung over that abyss, wondering
If you would let my hand go, or pull me up
Until boredom struck again
Amidst the beeping and droning machines
Serpentine, you still twisted around me
Pungent disinfectant; the white-room scent
And the pointed metal tips
Their shrieking tongues turned to monotone.
Well, organs and cells,
I had long outgrown you and
Your demented, slothful ways
What did we have in common
Anymore aside from me?
But we are bound like conjoined twins
As fused together as can be
I’d die without you, you’d die without me
I aim to live in harmony with you
And help you gain a much sunnier hue.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 4:06 AM UTC
Okay that's it
I finally quit
I've had my years of fun
I've got exercise
Clear in my sights
Fat will soon be on the run
Had a problem in
Getting in the gym
The doors won't fit my **** double wide
So in disgrace
I plaster my face
On the window to watch the skinny's inside
In my depressed state
I went and ate
Another meal served up for four
One thing I like
About the places I dine
There's always room in and out the door
Then guilt overwhelms
Like a hellhound
As I was in the middle of my desert
It could have come sooner than this
And for that I am blessed
It could have come during my last course
Here I am back in my boat
Without a paddle to row
My only form of exercise
But before it's to late
I toss a little more dirt on my grave
With another order of double fries
With my meal out of the way
I go back to the start of the day
Which seems to be sunnier than ever
I decide to go for a jog
Before all my arteries clog
Maybe though I'll wait for better weather
................................................................
Here we are a new day
This is the earliest I've ever been late
You know what they say about catching the worm
I stop to eat my worm on the way
IHOP double stack pancakes
Will that worm never learn
The only exercise these days
Is a fork in my face
If this were the Olympics I'd win a prize
I wonder if this is considered a sport
The reaching of maple syrup
And wouldn't squeezing the bottle also be exercise
I'll try tomorrow again
To reign myself in
One of these days it's bound to catch
I'll look to the future in life
Instead of behind
Then at least I won't have to look at my fat...
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
may we have some nicer weather please?
At least some sunnier days than these!
It's been so cold and unbelievably wet,
it's horrid enough to get upset.
It's a bit like April but in reverse,
instead of better it's getting worse.
Can't make any plans to go outside
for a short walk or bicycle ride.
Whenever I get ready to leave the house,
heaven looks like I'm in for a douse.
Sometimes I go out in spite
and realize I'm not watertight.
Then I get drenched to the bone,
it even destroys my mobile phone.
Worse yet after it's been warm,
the sky rips open a nasty thunderstorm.
That's the part when danger lurks
with thunder lightning and the works.
Because holding up an umbrella
can sometimes torch a poor fella.
But wait, before I get into hail,
earthly tempests like heavy gale,
tornados, hurricanes and the likes.
It's definitely not worth it, yikes!
Instead of giving myself a permanent frown,
I put the kettle on and try piping down.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 3:27 AM UTC
you smell like the rain,
a combination of
sweet and saltiness,
pleasantly musky
etched to your jacket,
on a cold, wet day.
you feel like the rain,
as our palms held and met,
I can feel your sweat form.
hold them tighter,
my heart feels tighter.
I think I'm the rain,
if not then explain,
why do I precipitate
waterdrops from my eyes,
or listen to my heartbeat
pounding loudly like
cats and dogs,
and my sight is fogged
I'm waiting for the
someone sunnier than I do
where I can form
new love again.
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 10:32 AM UTC
I can’t say we’re the same but I too have lost large parts of me to greener pastures
Your dark bricks turn to dust and paint the snow a red maroon
“The stories they’d tell”
Says everyone sad to see them crumble but not sad enough to do anything about it
“Someone should do something”
Someone, but not they
Milwaukee I too am a lot like you, if you only knew
How far I slid sickly over the Kinnickinnic oil slicks
Past fallen trees and draining pipes
Until being caught by a shopping cart
Left on the muddy banks by some poor poor impoverished soul
Who also didn’t really care enough to return it to the Pick & Save
From which it was taken
I’ve sure seen better days and I too have come a long way
Like I got on to Fond Du Lac Avenue and kept walking
Until I reached
Well...
Fond Du Lac
Like I ascended Kilbourn Park with a pick-axe
Defeated the yeti on top and shoved your blue flag
Through his heart, cracking it open like a Pabst or Schlitz can
and dropped a quarter in a homeless guy’s jar
And he told me I was just like you
I can too burn bright like the foundries in the valley
Or roar like railcars and rattle the south side
Or be courageous like the captain
Sailing to Muskegon
Over choppy freshwater treachery
I can shutter in peace like your factories when I fall asleep
And never wake back up
I can drive all my loved ones away
Just like you have
For the past five decades
I’m exactly like you
Because I too
Wait for a sunnier day
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
It's creeping in again,
each ebb and flow
stealing pebbles from the beach,
shifting sands
filling gaps with pools of doubt
waves of sadness
surging loneliness
slowly eroding
the castles
I built,
on sunnier days
How to fight a tide,
when you are one
and it is an ocean?
I am
surrounded by driftwood
but too tired to build.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
When all that glitters is not gold
And valleys mist your open eyes
Call me , for my own magic wings
Can fly you to clearer sunnier skies
If the black dog is again on your back
And all you feel is the darkest grey
Call me ,for my own magic heart
Can beat your fears , calm your day
When your sense of perception
Has hidden all that you you've got
Call me , for my own magic eyes
Will show you all that you've forgot
When your days are never-ending
And your nights are hard sharp steel
Call me ,for my own magic angel
Tender love for you is all I feel
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
When an Autumn
starts to truly come
I like to sing into the air
of the world
the sweetest spring lullabies
of much sunnier days,
just to try to
hide away the crumbling sound
of falling dry, dead leaves.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 10:06 PM UTC