"sunniest" poems
life is a marathon
it isn't easy
it isn't graceful
it isn't pretty
times will come which are so dark
even the sunniest of days feels cold
evil men sow their sins from the shadows
and it stops you in your tracks
like hitting a runner's wall
breathless stinging lungs
scream out against the lack of oxygen
like silent voices mourning a waking nightmare
but even from under the umbra
we might find something
worth redeeming
a helping hand offering us some much needed hydration
or friendly words of encouragement from strangers
life is a marathon
and we can't allow the runner's wall
to stop us from moving forward
for the sakes of our brothers and sisters
who didn't get their fair chance
to cross the finish line
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC
Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! though that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
’Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be—that dream eternally
Continuing—as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood—should it thus be given,
’Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revelled when the sun was bright
I’ the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,—have left my very heart
Inclines of my imaginary apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought—what more could I have seen?
’Twas once—and only once—and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass—some power
Or spell had bound me—’twas the chilly wind
Came o’er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit—or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly—or the stars—howe’er it was
That dream was that that night-wind—let it pass.
I have been happy, though in a dream.
I have been happy—and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love—and all my own!—
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.
3.1k
The Discworld Death
The Discworld Death and Binky the horse, are here to stay.
The knight and his steed.
The darkest light even on the sunniest of days.
He is here now and he has always been here.
He will be here at the end;
The time you reach the end of your allotted years.
The Death of Rats fears no cat,
For he is already immortal; he always appears in black.
Even if a rat has been killed by a cat
And the cat can see The Death of Rats,
He still walks in his cowl and carries his scythe,
Because no matter how much the cat would like to attack,
It cannot **** the Death of Rats, as it is no longer alive.
You cannot **** Death, nor can you **** the Death of Rats.
You cannot escape the end,
And you cannot escape the cat,
If you are a rat;
On that you can depend.
Susan is Death’s Grand Daughter, with her hair black and white.
Albert is Death’s helper; the foolish type.
Death stands alone in the night and at his side there flies a crow.
With electric blue eyes, Death stares deep into your soul.
He can reach inside you and take your life,
Or he can let you go.
But when your time is up,
From Death there is no escaping.
He is your undertaker, have no fear of the Reaper;
He cannot tell you where you are going.
Death is an anthropomorphic personification.
Discworld is my favourite form of fiction.
It would be my preferred place,
To take a lifelong vacation.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
Subtle melody, find solace
as fingers ride the wind like wings.
Side walk top hats are my wallet,
as heartache grips the listening crowd
and just like that, the wind too sings
along with my torn fingered strings,
that fly like heartache sung aloud,
and come alive like Spring.
My fingers know which notes to tear away.
The violin knows what wind it needs for tune.
I'll rest the base against my neck and play,
Street corners my rehearsal room,
in coldest winter or sunniest spring;
In frigid night, in scorching day,
I'll play. My blistered fingers know the way.
Seasons come and go astray.
Plucking fingers freeze and burn.
But everywhere by bow resolves to turn,
the wind follows, waiting for my word;
His cue to take the stage and sing
songs that come alive like Spring
and my smiling fingers know which string
will permit the wind be heard.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
My soul feels alive
Wrapped in rays
From sunniest skies
Hanging there in
Your bright blue eyes
©FaerieFoxPoetry
Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 3:11 PM UTC
The waterlilies
Float above graceful Koi fish
White and cherry red
Amongst ripples cast through ponds
Of alternate dimensions
Whilst white sakura
Flow like the wind through long hair
Outside car windows
During the sunniest days
Of an endless rain season
Clouds glide across sky
Like those wet waterlilies
In search of lost time
Yearning for life in the warm
Recesses of all-being
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 11:09 PM UTC
As I lay here
Encapsulated in softness
I close my eyes tenderly
For my dreams are placid
Gossamer, floating wild yet gently
My dreams are the sparkles
My dreams are the ambers
But my dreams are not dreams
My dreams are honeyed streams
Manifestation
Of bliss, of love so pure
I am witness of a miracle
I was born once as mortal clay
Buried deep within, seeds of my dark fate
They said,
“You can change not,
Your fate is forged,
On iron pages it is wrought”
Exclaimed I;
“Does not moisture crack the seeds?
Does not I carry that grows to reed?”
So I marched on barren lands
Wildly searching that could damp
Scared, a step with each heartbeat
Thorns piercing and bleeding my feet
To heavens I prayed in desperate I cried,
Tears of agony in my eyes
That moment bestowed upon me
Our blood is the water that damps the seeds
The more we bleed, the more we reap
Hence I was reborn amongst sunniest rays
To taste the sweetness in bitterness
To experience the noise in silence
To listen the music in smiles
To see the laughter in eyes
As I drift to sleep now
I will not dream, I can never dream
My reality is too beautiful,
My reality is all I dream
Until that day when,
My reality becomes only a dream,
When my lids would turn stones
And the blood in me runs dry
Till that last day,
I will use my blood
To moist my seeds of fate
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
sunset of lifetime
red apple in sunken sea
sunniest **** beach
I invite you to read my poem at: http://www.poemhunter.com/contest-vote/pygmalion-and-galatea/
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
A very wealthy and handsome man,
Owned a mansion and a bay,
But was not at all married,
Which baffled him every day.
He was as proper as a royal prince,
And was the utmost handsomest guy in town,
Hopefully he will get the chance in his life,
To simply smile and not frown.
When one same ordinary day,
The wealthy man took a long walk into town,
He then further noticed a small party,
With several women in the same color gown.
It was the brightest and sunniest day,
And the perfect day to be outside,
But the man was dressed for winter,
So he decided to step aside.
He waited until the music stopped,
Then did he roam his way into the crowd,
He had to close his ears,
For the people were very loud.
The man was very timid and sensitive,
And barely spoke to anyone,
He'd sit near his beautiful bay,
Which was supposed to be his fun.
When the man spotted an attractive young woman,
Who looked tall and friendly,
He made his way over to her,
Boy how nervous was he!
The wealthy man introduced himself,
And told interesting facts about him,
The girl looked fascinated,
As it was starting to get dim.
The couragous gentleman went on one knee,
And asked, "Will you marry me?"
The girl looked baffled and terrified,
As she ran to spring free.
Such a beautiful girl,
Who he really didn't deserve,
So he went to find another gal,
The next looked superb!
She was average in size and looked gorgous,
But when she glanced at the hopeless man,
She didn't care for him,
And rather joined in on the song, "Can-Can."
When the wealthy an suddenly gave up,
He sat by himself in the corner,
To him it felt so hot outside,
That is felt like a sauna!
At that very moment,
A gorgous girl walks up to him,
The poor man felt so hot right now,
That his whole body felt limb.
When the woman introduced herself,
The man did as well,
This woman was the prettiest out of all th girls,
That, he could surely tell.
After a long discussion,
The hopeful man bent down on one knee,
And asked the big question, "Will you marry me?"
The woman gracefully accepted,
As they both left with a smile,
But there's one thing the wealthy man now knew,
That all this waiting, was definitely worth while.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
You keep sending me up and down like a yoyo-
But I'm the cheeriest, sunniest yoyo around.
Going down is the best bit by now
Because I know I get to spring back up.
You might find another yoyo eventually,
But none so bright, hardwearing, or smooth running as me!
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
There she was
An angel in beautiful words
Words found only in his dreams
In those hidden corners of lubriciousness
Musky shadows muted the sunniest of days
Like-minds grazed in intensity
And from those shadows rose her sun
Resplendent and bold
Illuminating every nook and cranny as she passed
There is no judgement as he reads
Those possibilities in her beautiful words
Could it be, there is another...kindred
But no, doubt fills a mind wrapped in norms and raised in terms of proper
Curiosity begs the question
Her truth answers his innermost lies
Looking for justification, a way out
Raised believing, too good to be true always is
Looking for a way to feed doubt and squelch a fledgling reality
Yet found his fantasies in this angel
With a face that made them real
What do you do when your demons become human
When your shame is no longer shameful
When you are accepted as you are, in all your seeming depravity
When your darkest yearnings are craved by another wading in the pool of lasciviousness
When your concupidity is realized
Crossing the line dragging fantasy into daylight
Holding on with both hands basking in the sun
There is a sweetness in this angel with beautiful words
A loving nature, a truth that cannot lie
And there is a gentleness in his heart that he cannot reconcile with darkest passion
So, what do you do with a dream come true?
You walk away into the norm and leave the joy to burn in her sun
Pretending her sweetness feels no pain
Hoping against hope, that her reality was never your dream
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:11 AM UTC
She's wearing these long, bright red rainboots
On the sunniest of days
As if she's afraid that if she doesn't
She'll fade away and disappear forever
"You won't!" I want to shout to her
"You'll never fade away
Because you are the most beautiful thing
That has ever been permitted to stay in this world
To pass before my eyes
To smile... perhaps in my general direction..."
But she doesn't hear me
She is lost in her own analysis
Of the shifting clouds
The little whisps of whimsical water vapors
I see her spin slightly
Gazing up at their shapeless shapes
Her lips mouthing words that I cannot hear
For I am a coward and do not approach
O, What I would give to speak with her
For even the most slight of seconds
About even the most trivial thing in the universe
But alas, it was not meant to be
I walk slowly down the street
Past the cacophonous roaring of
The motor cars
As unflattering as they are to the ear
So she is beautiful
I arrive at the corner
The smell of tar and gasoline rise
From the steaming asphalt
I turn
And she is there
She is there and she is sitting
She is sitting on her bike right there
She is on her bike and I see her as I turn
"Hello" she says
She smiles as she says hello
I search for the words
To tell her how
She has owned my heart
Since the moment I laid eyes on her
"Ayeii" I say as the light changes
She giggles and rides away
"Hello I love you"
But it's too late
She can't hear me
I walk across the intersection
And continue my long walk back home
Filled with the hope that maybe it will happen again
Maybe I'll see her again
Maybe...
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
She saw a flower, sensitive plant of my garden
She saw a flower, sensitive plant of my garden
it was the warmest, sunniest morning
it was the warmest, sunniest morning
Warmest of garden, it saw a flower in the morning
sensitive, she was my sunniest plant
The wind is blowing from west over the river
The wind is blowing from west over the river
The sky turns dark above the mountains
The sky turns dark above the mountains
The west wind turns, is blowing over the mountains
From the river above the dark sky
The city far away, the buildings tall
The city far away, the buildings tall
Disguise the green fields beyond the crowds
Disguise the green fields beyond the crowds
The tall fields, the green buildings
Disguise the crowds beyond the far away city
The tall mountains, the fields, the sky above
saw a disguise of crowds over city buildings
my morning, it was the sunniest beyond the west
The green river she turns dark
The warmest wind is blowing from far away
Plant the sensitive flower in the garden
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
if you feed an emotion, it will grow
just as if you place a patch of herbs
legal or not
with water and nourishing soil in the sunniest spot
the problem with an emotion
is that it has the ability to explode
tick tock
and there you are picking up the pieces of your broken heart
but while its path is undeviating
and your spirit soars in the thermals
utter bliss
is this a flight that you can afford to miss?
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
people **** themselves all kinds of ways. round here being Millersport, Ohio. dark and stormy is how we talk about hair. the dead before they go. my mother’s hair was dark and stormy. wasn’t a monday; her boyfriend was upright and able to hold a pan. she took a couple to the back of the head but kept walking. went to this particular barbershop that’s still there, same barber, still cuts out the dark. passed people no street to be on so they were milled about and missed her darker and missed her stormy looking up as they were. something coming and it wasn’t my mom. all kinds of ways and my mom had to use a tornado. the upper half of her body was too much for the tree but it got its mouthful. her boyfriend held that pan for a week in the same hand.
as I am now turned out you might call me on the disconnect, heck, the dialect. you might want it to be horrible putting only half of her in that tree my own mother. truth might be, tree, my whole mother, and no tornado. I might take you at your word and tell you the tornado carries nothing but my home. that my mother locked herself in the cellar on the sunniest day of the year. that I knew beforehand what the year would bring weather wise. that she lived through all the following malevolence behind those would say to her son she ain’t all there. that when she came out of the cellar it was because of a bird she’d claimed to have heard in her belly.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 1:49 PM UTC
A boy.
A boy,
Who's love I need to feel.
I'm not his girl
He's the love I long to steal.
His voice is the sweetest,
My ears have ever heard.
For him,
I'd do anything,
Say anything
I'd give him the world.
Even with my best intent
I let him slip,
Melting to sloppy wet drips
And flowing straight,
Through my fingertips.
Even when I tried to grab hold,
I grabbed, I jabbed, and pricked,
Still away he had surely slipped.
Oceans apart
However, close we are.
There's still a spark,
It magnifies every emotion
Heightens every notion
And through all the dark,
There is still a shrill
A deep, deep, shrill,
The life-giving *****
Beats out of turn,
Even still.
I look into those deep dark vessels,
The Windows to your soul.
They search my flesh
They cry out,
Why?
Our future clear as sunniest of skies.
Though it's not a happy ending,
What a surprise.
Reality the way it always does
Creeps close.
It's wrong we know very well
in the heat of the moment, passion swells
We're both thinking stop,
But onward we march
Into this terribly beautiful yet tragic arch,
Of love and lust that cuts so deep.
Our brains know better, but our hearts,
They are weak.
Then it hits.
In that instant a vivid dream
Comes to me lucid and not quite serene.
Your lips dancing in time
With mine closely behind
Stop
You look at me and remember her.
I'm sorry I say "I loved you first"
"Love me" I scream
Without a sound.
The words pouring out silently
My wide and weary eyes
Say it all as they cry.
Kiss me again
To send me away so abruptly.
Would surely begin,
My end.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel like I'm the worst type of pessimist.
At heart I'm an optimist, looking past the highest mountains,
trying to reach the sky with the tips of my fingers and
catch the clouds at the base of my palms.
However, in head,
I'm the biggest pessimist
finding the dark spots on the sunniest days,
herding death between the cracks in the concrete.
And the head is like the heart's big sister,
telling her to take a step back and make sure of her actions,
bossing her around, burning out her spark,
leaving the dead of the night with nothing but doubt.
But you've got my lips coated in sugar and
my intentions wrapped in flames.
You've got my heart scrapping its knees and
my head spinning
Because who would've thought
it'd finally meet its match,
unable to hold something down
with two hands and keep it in place.
But both of them are undoubtedly worried,
darling.
They're running for the hills and
finding a place to set camp where you'd never find.
Empty handed and confused, they're still searching and
the only thing going through their thoughts remains to be
*"there's still time to run
there's still time to run
there's still time
just move your feet,
don't look back
and run
as fast as you can."*
gd
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
I get lost in your eyes
In the purest of ways,
Like being lost on the beach
On the sunniest days.
And I'm caught by your touch,
So smooth and so sure,
I'm caught altogether
In all that we were.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
While bearing the weather of a storm, you don't consider the aftermath; you don't consider the damage that's being done. In that moment, all you can do is brace yourself. You hide, tuck your head between your knees, close your eyes and try to convince yourself it isn't happening. The ground shakes, the wind whistles through the cracks of the doors and it feels like the world may fall from beneath you, but you bear it. And then, after what feels like a piece of forever, the wind settles, the rain stops and you can breath easy. You survived. For a while, you think it's over. The calm is a silent whisper convincing you that you'll be okay. You think all is passed. Until you look up, step outside your home and see the damage that's been done. The gardens that have been destroyed by fallen trees, the broken windows of the house down the street, the flood of water from the rain that swallows everything in its way. That's when you realize; the worst part has only just begun.
Losing you was the storm. It was slow at first, then it progressed as time went by and became aggressive...angry. It was loud, it came with too many words that should have remained unsaid to save ourselves from the damage. But you see, you didn't consider the aftermath of breaking me. You didn't care enough to spare me the pain of forgetting every promise you ever made me; telling me things that to this day create thunder in the back of my mind on the sunniest of days. I braced myself, convinced myself we could survive this. I convinced myself that your anger was a cloud that needed to release its rain. And rain it did. But it's been days since it stopped raining and I'm still coughing up water from the flood you left behind.
Just when I thought we were in this together, you couldn't handle the changing weather and I'm here in a pile of broken branches with bruised feet and ****** knees wondering how I could have avoided this. What happens when the one thing I tried to protect is destroyed? What happens when it's my heart?
How do you fix the aftermath of a storm when its somewhere your hands can't reach?
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
It’s time for yet another session
To inform you about depression.
You may want to say “Just stop!”
Like a psychological traffic cop.
But as any of us who suffer say
“Pal, it just doesn’t work that way.”
This is not some social craze
And it certainly is not a phase.
It is something we suffer through
And you’re lucky if it isn’t you.
It’s worse than any story you read
To have a ***** fight in your head.
There are no praises you can sing.
Something is wrong with everything.
Even the sunniest day looks gray
And you can’t see it another way.
For many of us, it’s a long sad story,
And maybe cerebral instead of gory.
Something has made our life tough.
Maybe we were never good enough,
Or that was the way it all seemed
Before our dreams began to scream.
We can seldom remember back so far
To discover where lie the scars.
There are times when things go well,
But most times it’s a personal hell.
You can’t take joy in the normal things
That might make other’s heart sing.
You find that you have given up hope
You feel you are at the end of your rope.
Sadly, while you sit and pull your hair.
You see you have gotten used to despair.
I know some of you that don’t suffer
This illness want to help a brother
Or sister come beyond this trauma.
But you can’t label our pain as drama.
What you can do to lend a hand to us
Is to listen to us and not abandon us.
What often works is a true confessional
In the hands of a well-trained professional.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Even on the sunniest days,
Im stuck freezing...
I've forgotten the feeling of warmth.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
The Shimmer On The Blue
Dappled sunlight sparkles
Among the pinks and purples
Greens and blue.
Like the sunniest days in a garden
Where shadows cannot get through.
Pinks of a snapdragon, the rose
With its transparent hue.
The lemons and the lime
With a clear water dew.
The speckles of white where
Snow in summer once grew.
The breeze dances on the leaves
Of the delicate bamboo.
Clouds dodge the rays
As the sun peeps through.
All in all a wonderful time in the garden
Watching the shimmer on the blue.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
If we’d carefully addressed our nuances
We wouldn’t be in this mess…
If we’d spoken to the heart rather than the heartless head…
If we hadn’t turned this planet into a closed and open hell…
Like a giant burning cruise ship full of mere shells, piercing into the earth’s former self…
We ignore the trees; the trees that show us magnificence and mystery; destroying their epic lives in a heartbeat…
But the trees whisper through connected fungi, working as a team for longevity, with no concept of antipathy…
And in dark forests on the sunniest days we still glimpse those rays of true beauty…
We still have a responsibility in our vastness to steer this ship of souls in the right direction, in conjunction with nature and all of it’s adaptations…
Why stare into one hole in a cave when there are a million different pools and palaces shining through the crystal cracks, all waiting to join as we chip away at a new haven…
Imagine what aliens would think then when they came to visit our shimmering, all-embracing, reciprocal creation…
I remember ones almost my age who saved this vision early on, looked at me straight in the eye and winked as I was gone…
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 6:03 AM UTC
A small and gratuitous thank you
to every single one of you
who read my absent minded emotions
that I plaster among the fields of great poetry.
A gracious acknowledgement
to the best friends
who listen to me say the same things
over and over
about the same boy
and his beautiful hands
and his leaving for Germany.
A sincere recognition to the new friends
who tolerate my abnormality
and hang with me through the spontaneity
of midnight conversations through
binary code of chat functions.
A sincerest gratitude
to the mother who carried me through
the hard winter
when anxiety made me heavy
with the weight of my worries.
Who now shares happy afternoons
garden beds
and chai tea on the front porch.
To everyone in my life
who witnessed my darkest hours
and sunniest peaks.
To every single person who has trekked the terrain
of my unpredictable personality
and sarcastic biting words
my cruelty and arrogance
my sleep deprived, half assed attitude
my unpredictable pickiness
and my constantly changing tastes.
You have seen me at my worst
and stayed strong by my side
so now I am proud to share with you my best.
To everyone who helps me get through the day
Thank you.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC
Women´s Day
today is not Friday the thirteenth
but Thursday the 8th of March
not yet April
but March will stir his tail still
Women's Day, what a weak name
we thought it brings us fame
not noticed in all those years
the bullet went through the church, so many tears
yet our fate remained the same
mother, partimer....no one to blame.
THE Government perhaps?
Ah, there are still too many men inside that "house"
IF they choose, always for the man first, of course
WHEN will most women seek a job in da Government?
Then your salary will increase,
your societal position will alter
of course not that ease
BUT women ought to choose first
the highest job in da Government
for this, we must have brains and be graduated
then our voice would be heard
throughout the world
at least ten years bail
for the male
who abuses ****** or with words only
his wife
I never mean to hurt the warm-hearted male
who must undergo abusive tortures of his female
I like to sit right, and make things be right,
not only for abusive men
but also for women with strong hands
who may be abusing her man all her married life
that´s why she should never be his wife
sure there are women who can only beat, beat and beat!
Then I have true pity for that man´s ability
well ladies around the world
sit straight or only on the right or on the left
for the photo, with a true sincere soul
wishing you all
here on HePo and around the world
a Happy and cozy Women´s Day!
The rains though smallest drops
make today a miserable Women's Day
the bright sun has disappeared
weeks long we have the brightest and sunniest days!
OK, wishing you all nice gatherings together
and drinking tea with sweet ginger-cookies
don´t forget Grandmother's apple pie
in her time women are only smiling and be shy
can we imagine that for all things only nodding and agreeing?
Not one rimple-dimple of rebelling?!
Of course not, they haven´t known those emotions did exist
that´s why nowadays, and at present, it is a bliss
to be called a wo-man and not a she-man
oh dear ones, I do and try to write here all that I can.
my premier poem about Women´s Day
yes, they accept the lesbian and the gay
the transgender must stay at bay
their problem could be discussed
in the next generation, what a fuss!
but even though a Happy Women´s Day
to all kinds of women who are walking this way.
Sylvia Frances Chan
AD. Thursday 8 March 2018
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC