"sunnies" poems
OG Rhi Rhi
Up in this party
Gettin wavey off JD
Sippin on Bacardi
Sportin sunnies inside
The Matrix
No look in
Neo na see!
So sick
Keanu Reeves
Got nuttin on me!
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
Now, it's our time to laze,
We've reached our Autumn days,
Chilling air, smoky haze,
Russet and brown, golden days,
Leaves descending,
Time for sweeping,
Bulbs for planting,
We head for dormancy,
Grey skies, no more sunnies,
Heating on, fleecies adorn,
Every day, a nippy morn,
Winter warmth already?
Yes, comfort food keeps us steady.....
Now it's our time to laze,
These are our Autumn days.........
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
You are the color of a kiss,
passionate and complex;
A cold, tall glass of water
just after you've had ***
You are the color of a road trip,
with windows down and sunnies on.
The color of a love ballad,
or a fulfilling and perfect yawn
You are the color of a silk petal,
floating to the Earth,
A limited edition coin
and all that it is worth.
You are the color of adventure,
and freshly baked apple pie;
The color of snowfall on your face,
drifting down from the night sky
You are the color of paints
that stores just do not sell;
A sit-in or a marching protest,
fervent and raising hell.
You are the color of the strength
that arises with the dawn;
And when a king is overtaken
by a simple little pawn.
You are the colors found in everything:
extraordinary, nonetheless,
But more than all of that combined,
a fact I must confess;
You are the color of love and life,
with all that magic you possess.
- t.s.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
The city was laid like a wasteland
Like a rusting, crumbling sore,
Half of the houses were boarded up
Along a neglected shore,
The spirit had long gone out of it
That had made the city great,
Men fifty miles to the south of it
Were determining its fate.
Way up on the Presidential floor
Was a group of greedy men,
The czars of the old industrial core
Who had bled the town back then,
‘The real estate’s a disaster,’ said
A man who had been the Mayor,
‘The auto plants are a rusting heap,’
Said the man who held the Chair.
‘We’ve got more pensioners on the funds
Than workers in the plants,
There’s crime and violence in every street
And the Unions make demands.
So what’s the conclusion, gentlemen,
Do we give this plan its head?’
‘Whatever we do, it’s much too late,
The city’s as good as dead!’
And that’s how they came to build ‘The Tower’
To illuminate the sky,
‘There’s plenty of work for everyone
At a hundred storeys high!’
Nobody knew just what it did
Or what they were building for,
They only knew that they had a wage,
Could hold up their heads once more.
A central lift in The Tower went up
And down ten times a day,
Taking tools and materials
To restrict the Tower’s sway,
‘They say we’re going to go High-Tech
And they’re closing down the Plants,
The days of auto’s have gone for good
But they won’t tell us their plans.’
The Tower was built within the year
With a gaping hole up top,
A semi drove through the streets one day
And by The Tower, it stopped.
It carried a massive box-like thing
With a mass of flashing lights,
Was loaded into the lift, and sent
Up on its maiden flight.
They took it up and it crowned The Tower
While the people watched in awe,
There hadn’t been people in the streets
Like this since the Second War.
A massive counter was counting down
As the people stood and cheered,
‘I hope it’s not what I think it is,’
Said a man with a long, white beard.
While down in the Presidential Suite
Just fifty miles away,
A group of men put their sunnies on
And stood by the window bay,
‘Well how do you clear a festering slum,’
Said one, as he watched the clock,
While back at The Tower a sign lit up
And the word was ‘Ragnarok!’
David Lewis Paget
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 9:08 PM UTC
(a story in senryu stanzas)
I get migraines.
- lucky me - glare can set me
off within seconds.
I always have a
pair of dark, polarized shades
with me - it’s a quirk.
When I was fourteen,
we lived in Shenzhen, China
very near Macau.
Macau, China, the
“Las Vegas” of Asia, is
the home of glare.
The Ritz-Carlton, has
a glittering galaxy
of bright chandeliers.
Those chandeliers move,
their silhouettes change shape - just
stab me with a spork.
Did I mention the
Mirrors? Every wall served to
magnify the light.
“You look awful,” my
mom said - our two week booking
became ten minutes.
“I just need sunnies,
those would work,” then I gasped
“I’ll look glamorous!”
We changed hotels, but
what a small world - my roommate
Leong grew up there.
We could have passed in
the yè shì as teenagers
and now we're roommates.
.
.
sunnies = sunglasses (UK slang)
yè shì = night market (simplified Chinese)
Mar 1, 2024
Mar 1, 2024 at 8:55 PM UTC
freakout. let’s all hide this from our parents together
i want so desperately to impress you, i want so hugely for you to like me
i love nirvana (as of this morning), but i’m not faking
i really do love Floyd the Barber (as of hearing it this morning)
Kurt Cobain died on the cross almost thirty years ago
he’d be fifty seven and I have a headache
this **** smells like that guy who gave me my guitar
my godfather (close enough), my childhood (ending rapidly)
and barbecues in the backyard
douse me in axe body spray and tell me it’s lynx
it is lynx, i’m the one who’s wrong
i feel real for the first time in years, and shorter than i thought
5”4 and sinking into the ground, so dance with me
let’s take our shoes off in the street
two songs, one movie, one podcast
all playing in the background, and we’re off every beat
I love nirvana (always have), I have a headache (always will)
I’m teetering between high and not
is this the kind of **** that makes you creative?
look at the little bag you brought, it has bats on it
it makes you so happy, look at you dancing
look at you on the driveway, in your Kurt Cobain sunnies
this is what he would have wanted
Jul 18, 2024
Jul 18, 2024 at 8:05 PM UTC
I love sunglasses
I love that I can put them on and they shield me
But more than I love wearing them
I love taking them off
Basking in the sunlight
Taking it all in
Occasionally blinding myself for the sake of seeing the beauty
Revealing a perspective that is not caged by frames
Not dimmed by tinted lenses
But freed by the open air
The slight breeze moving through my fluttering eyelashes
Unprotected and fragile
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
*Feet throb through well worn shoes
after a brisk walk to central station.
We keep our ears plugged with our beats
to finally find seated, at furtherest point;
Backs of heads, napes, and collars
mushroom away, stare blankly ahead -
polarised sunnies paint them bright;
choked only by an assumption of gain.
And all I see is a tiny reflection of me.
Here in my world another day begins:
a mourning of suited, tired paramours;
in this cosmos of peopled isolation.*
_ __ ___ ✒
●○
°
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
*Feet throb, pulsing thru well-worn shoes;
after a brisk walk to central station,
we keep our ears plugged with our beats
to finally find seated, at furtherest point;
Backs of heads, napes, and collars
mushroom away; stare blankly ahead -
polarised sunnies paint them bright;
choked only by an assumption of gain.
And all that's seen is a tiny reflection of self;
here in our world another day begins:
a mourning of suited, tired paramours;
in this bustling cosmos of peopled isolation.*
_ _ __ ✒
●○
°
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 3:15 AM UTC
It’s suffocating.
I used to read you through rose tinted sunnies.
Now all I see are black and white scratchings
It’s you for sure, my heart can tell
But your colour is gone.
Yawn.
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 9:28 PM UTC