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Wonder Berry Dec 2018
Truth be told
I'd bet my soul.
I only get lonely in the mornings.
The cold breeds empty amidst the white light of the morning sun.
A good morning blue bird colors the hazey sky.
As the sunrise of solitude fills the air I ponder my soul.
I'd sell my soul if it turned back time to the place of orange sight.
A place in time before the silent night
To the place that lives in sets.
Where the sun waves goodbye and enters a full evening sky.
You are my only sunset.
I feel full at the peak of sunset.
Dead Rose One Mar 2015
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set**

orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
                                               spring"

the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
                    too much insufferable

having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit ****, u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
                                         concurrently


there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****,
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
                                 failed

of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
                    men

maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted

where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
                                             immediacy

heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
                                                    smothered life

but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a *******
                       mirror

there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Sameera Krishna Dec 2018
Stary skies,
Mid Smmer nights,
Rain soaked evenings,
Early Winter mornings,
Sunrises & Sunsets
Eventually,
Everything..
Everything Reminding me
Of You,  
Of Us.
Wondering how time flew.
Sjr1000 Feb 2018
Aging is confusing
How old would you be
if you didn't know how old you are

Microwave ovens
Kitchen range timers
Updates too
Timers all around ticking down
ticking down our time
You might think of this
as you make your rounds

Sunrises
Sunsets
Good morning
Goodnight

5 minutes to go
Forty seconds
I know

Ding goes the timer
Another day is done

I guess in the end
it's
five four three two one.
How old would you be...is a Satchel Paige quote, he was an ageless pitcher, actually no one knew how old he really was, legend has it he pitched well into his sixties
Aditi Jan 2018
My petals were withering,
The butterflies turned into wasps.
An oppressive silence-
Weighing down on my conscience
And the fingertips - used to drawing sunrises
-compelled  to write eulogies instead.
Of Chapped lips and vacant eyes.
And how the autumn had caught up to us.


And I remembered,
With an aching guilt-
How I had not even played in the rain,
Not much, not at all.

My words had rusted,
My voice- cracked, and unfamiliar
Even to my own ears.
The summer long poems that I wrote in love
Were set ablaze,
To help me survive a winter
without you.
Oh, when I said our love would keep us warm
This is not exactly how i had it planned.

And you did not get to read even a word.
One always thinks they have time.
But we did not.
Not then, and definitely not now.

As a child, I grew up wanting a lot from myself
-even the world, if I were to be honest.
Somewhere along the line,
All I wanted was for this all to not hurt.
And somehow the polar opposites are more alike
Than I'd have thought.
'Cause you see, people who want a bit of everything
Are very close to wanting nothing in particular, not much.

And I wish I had learnt to differentiate
Of when to sharpen my sword and when to use my pen
Cause now I'm down to my last petal
And all you have is a blue splotch on your shirt.
shamamama Apr 30
How long did I believe
The sunrise is forever
He told me
And I saw the golden hues of hope
Sculpted into forever
And a day--
Until one day what was inbetween
All the sunrises emerged
And I tasted the bitter,
the butter, the batter of all the other.
I feel like poetry helps me to learn how to process all the uncomfortableness of life unfolding, and lets me peal away layer after layer, to uncover what is ready to be understood.
ryn Jan 2015
Been a week since the new year arrived at dawn's door
Seven sunrises had passed making way for many more
Resolutions, wishes, aspirations cast into winds of new days
In hopes they'd be carried forth on each dawn's new rays

Let us welcome the fresh air that come
Inhale it deep as reminder that we're luckier than some
Let us embrace the opportunity of time
A privilege bestowed so we could still pen in rhyme

Let us cherish the love from family and new found friends
Shower upon them the gift of verse that never ends
Let us strengthen existing virtual and physical connections
Reinforce them with kindness, fortitude and good intentions

Let us sieve past experiences that mar us black
Dispense with animosity, ill thoughts and considerations that lack
Let us trudge forward into the unknown together
Hands in hands and hearts to hearts into the unforeseeable future


No matter who you are or where you've been
We'll all get our fair share of twenty fifteen
We've all been granted if you'd only take advantage
In the great book of life, on a fresh, brand new page

Do note that this is just ideal advice not so much as a plea
I know the journey is long, arduous and never easy
I hope these words I've penned would lighten your load
Little bites of wisdom (I hope) for the long meandering road

I can't promise the rise of the nightly moon
But the sun will rise where you are; and it will arrive very soon
This is me being optimistic. I don't wear this garb for too long at a time so I'd like to spread it for as long as I have it.
.
jee Nov 2018
sienna cities
sparkling saturn sunrises
sangria skyscrapers
sublime.

you are kaleidoscoped
through and through
with window blinds, bed sheets,
and street signs.

they call you modern art
and hang you on a wall
of white
and beige.

your color bleeds.

you boil
and no *** can hold you.

you speak and
wind chimes cry,
ringing into the empty night,
saturnine.

a ballerina can only hope
to move as gracefully
as you do.

your eyes light up
like tuscan sun cities
sizzling sirius sunsets
school bus skyscrapers
salient.

i’m hooked on your city glow
brighter than tokyo.
andromeda’s got nothing on you
Umi May 2018
Beyond the boundaries of our restricted life,
Lies a world of pure fantasy, majestic and venurable in size,
You don't have to die in a dream, were the words pushed into me,
Because I was weak, such was a limited set of mind, bound to earth,
"Oh heavens, oh earth" I said, " take me in, let me enjoy the beauty and joy of what's beyond my fragile body once more, just for this moment, I would like to lose myself in the melody of life and death"
The boundary of day and night, determined by the worlds spin gifts us fascinating sunrises, and a starlit nightsky filled with great glory,
Seen and unseen, fantasy and reality all kept from interfering with one another by complex mechanisms and borders, orderly stuctured!
The boundary to another's heart however is crossed by emotions,
Emotions which are to be kind, pure and sweet, ah, phantoms!
Phantoms of the past conveyed by memories long gone corrupt judgement; when I knew the meaning of eternity you were no longer there, such the serenity of silence rules over this deserted border.
The border of conciousness.

~ Umi
Vierra Jun 2013
The night comes with a hint of cold.
The fading sunlight mixes colors with the gaining darkness,
until all at once there is no light, just cold.
I can see all the familiar shadows with a relative ease.
They make me feel comfort in my solitude,
like a lullaby upon youthful ears.

let me write you a story
of which you can read to your sons and daughters at bed time.
stories of times that enchanted the dreary eyes
of their never ending imagination

the night brings this magic.
dreams and faded reality are commonplace
upon the alter that holds these fantasies.
quiet solitude with the realization that you are alone in the darkness.

yet the night will turn to day.

i have seen too many sunrises through wayward eyes.

oh night will you return?
will my beloved solitude render during the day?

we shall see. we shall see.
Skaidrum Aug 2015
The stars aren't as tasteful
       as I'd hoped they'd be,
You fickle moon,
You eclipse of a lover.

           Vinegar.  That's what
those cosmic light bulbs we
call stars taste like.          Raw
and savoring, bold & eccentric.
          Kissing summer on winter's lips
          The cheek of spring still stings from autumn's hand

And I'm marooned in this fine
                            red wine hour,
  nostalgic in the art of reading
          The hum of dragons pulse~
The whisper of the wolven breath,
                         This time around your blood
                                        was thinner than ice.
Twisting the tendrils of our thistled love
across my snowy throat,
            Crimson is so ******* beautiful
It was your job to swallow sunsets and it
was mine to throw up sunrises.           We
followed the commandments branded on
my cheeks.  
                         It was the only bible we had,
                         Because my scars were worth
                                                         "s­omething"

When the roof of the sky meets the jaw of
the sun, the teeth are the clouds & constellations.
I fed the world my spine because it was starving.
         chinking off marrow, and mouthfuls of my flesh,
Devour me.
                    And in my wake you shifted the lapis void,
                     forcing my eyes open as gold tears spilt

Streetlamps groaning at midnight,
will you watch the ravens with me at 3 a.m?
I'm not one for fate but,
          destiny is mine for the taking.
Bones wish they're bending,
     yet promise they're not breaking.
I bargained my soul and sins with Lupus,
and now I am his poet.
                       A daughter of aurora borealis,
                     buckets full of silver  sloshing admist
                           my eyes.
                      When I no longer love you,
                               it will be silent,
                                and tragic.
.
This one's for you,
my wolf girl.
I'm sorry that I am
the reason you're
suffering.


© Copywrite Skaidrum
LexiSully Jun 2018
Sunrises are God’s finger paintings,
A new masterpiece everyday,
That make even the birds smile.
Äŧül Nov 2017
Right when it was the end of the road for me I thought,
I saw some light at the end of the tunnel so very dark,
Casually being nice and so friendly to a fellow poet.
Hugging my soul so tight in this love-decorated ark,
Enriched I am by your presence in my life,
Need you I do as my compatible loving wife,
Eternally grateful to you I will be even in my afterlife.
Dear, dear Princess bear Pooh, I will always love you.

By that Creator I swear to be with you forever,
Your days will see healthy sunrises with me.

My forever lover you are going to be,
Your eternal lover I will forever be.

Love you I do like our Creator loves us all,
Only careful I am being so I am not so fast,
Vents of oxygen that you have unclogged,
Early days of our relationship will forever last.

A surprising ray of hope you were initially,
Nicknamed you as my dear Baby Pooh Bear,
Did you ever think that you will get your Angel back?

Casually you kiss my cheeks & I kiss your forehead,
And we kiss each other on the lips too,
Righteously I care for your comfort & health,
Enhanced with your love is all my wealth.
You are a super woman, my Love,
And you are
Richened by my love and care.
Another one of my secondary acrostic poems.
My HP Poem #1675
©Atul Kaushal
Meteo Aug 2015
Two birds flying at night crash into each other
and as they spin falling from a cloud of feathers and starlight
they are reminded of a time before they learned how to fly...

Will we fold into each others secrets
would we fit each other like a spoon
won't you take my hand and chase stars with me

we'll catch them if they fall
and bury them in the backyard of our childhood dreams
so we can always find our way back there

Chase the shoreline
fly with a flock of airplanes
we'll signature the moon
as we dance our footprints upon the clouds

swim with me through an ocean of bed sheets
and Sunday mornings
and we'll chase dinosaurs from our bedroom

The warmest place in the world is next to you
let me sip coconuts in your arms
won't you plant my name behind your tongue
that it may bloom in a garden of your smiles

We'll find a beach to name after our children
and serenade the ocean as it refuses to stop kissing the shore
we'll use toothbrushes as tuning forks

fake a limp at new years eve and ride the elevator to the highest floor
and dance with me above the skyline

'cause if you sing me a lullaby of forgiveness
I will keep you from all the broken promises
we can finger paint sunrises on each other skin

Be orphans with me
so that we can name each other
the way we once named the stars
as if the constellations held the promise
we could find our way home
LexiSully Jun 2018
Sometimes I wonder
If clouds cover up sunrises on purpose,
Jealous of the way they shine,
Or if they just long to be part of the masterpiece.
Mya Aug 2018
Sunrises are beautiful
a beautiful beginning of a new day
but sunsets are even better
and it shows that you have survived the entire day
without dieing
alexa Aug 2018
the coffee is warm
as it slides down my throat,
the heat spreading through my chest and
down to my stomach i know
the sun is rising somewhere up to my right,
amber rays hitting my hunched shoulders
and back,
but my mind is focused on the lines swirling in front of me,
words strung together just begging
to be said aloud,
letters floating all over the page until
they take the shape of
my best dream and worst nightmare,
my apologies and angry rants and
all the times i’ve fallen in love without reciprocation
and the boys i’ve hurt and people i never want to forgive.
i write about early morning sunrises
and late night stargazing
and all the feelings i’ve never felt,
strangers i’ve never kissed in
foreign streets but i know
one day these letters will float off the page,
take shape in
a little place called Reality...
but for now,
it’s just me,
the coffee,
and my poetry,
melding together under
the rising sun.
-a.c.b
Leigh May 2015
The tide collects it all by morning;
The drama and the ***** napalmed across the path.
The scenes at second warning for most had been swept away
Before they wiped the sand from their shoes.

Empty cans of Dutch and Tuborg slouched on the dunes
Are tight-lipped about the Velvet Strand's secret ecosystem;
An underground microcosm;
A peripheral cluster of seething emotions drowned.

Memories of those years - although some expired,
The vestiges take pride of place - hold a cosmic clump of smells,
Tastes, firsts, goosebumps, hangovers, and ends.
I never before understood what I was holding on to.

Winters down in the shelters nearly killed us but we
Huddled through the cold, lit cheap firelogs and
Found our oblivion. It didn't take much for me to develop  
A stagger - tolerance for a lot of things was learned later.

I narrowly recall my first taste of poor judgement and
Hazy-headed stargazing. Six cans of Stonehouse
Dry cider - most of which ended up on the hillside -
Was a ridiculous endeavour that will always be sublime.

At the heart of it, I did it to impress a girl;
The one every boy has or has had that sticks;
Who holds your firsts and your hands and makes
Things simple if only for her complexity;

The one that never fails to bring upon digression when
Pens are involved. Revisiting reminiscence on a jarring note,
I think of my Junior Cert exams and a cross-dressed man
Exposing himself to two uniformed boys behind the public toilets.

This one doesn't stir the joy of the others.
This one I wish would dissolve;
An ugly, awkward blotch on a childhood.

Luckily fondness trumps disgust when recalling that place
Because of sunrises and sunsets absorbed from the roof.
The Summers spent jumping the gap and drowning in the
Heat of the sun were everything.

The fugitive sand between our toes and under finger nails
Became an accepted nuisance, a part of the territory;
A lingering grain or two to drag you back.
I miss waking up with the smell of last night's faded fire.
.


Some weird and wonderful memories of my teenage years.

100 points if you catch the Derek Mahon reference.


.
Skaidrum Nov 2016
...
"Quiet are your affections this hour,
as sun~fire courts moonlight"


I've sown gardens of stars
on your chest with my lips,
watched as peach-colored sunrises on
your shoulder blades dissolve before me,
and traced the ladder to heaven
along the sky of your spine
with my tongue.

You drank silver from my skin
like it was holy water, and you told me
that my body was like a godless church,
holy for no reason other than itself.

you told me I was beautiful,
so many times


This uncharted territory, porcelain to the touch;
we are blood in water in love, serenading the
angels that are intoxicated with our naivety;
Our bodies eclipsed and your hands find
the flecked gold that leans too heavy on one side,
and you placed all of the diamonds
back into my bones without
hesitation.

Whenever you kissed me
I knew love by all of its names
in all of it's tongues of flowers and coasts
and we drink up this disease knowing that
the only cure is each other.

However,
another heart's jealousy is a carcass in the ashtray,
and I have seen this hatred before;
I know that some ghosts prefer not to be woken;

Find fossils of heartbreaks
in the fountain of doves,
because if you searched her heart you'll find
empty hallways begging to be filled with
your sunlight.

As you are spellbound with
blue ponds of smoke and dynamite eyes
you reminded me once more,
I am a museum.

The darkness will feed upon his luna,
so the sun wishes to marry his lover,
~so look at me~

The moonlight is merely sunlight in a white dress
...
The scent of rain haunts me.
© Copywrite Skaidrum
CAM Oct 2017
Today is one of those days that makes you feel just nauseous
Today is not a very good day to be so self-conscious
Today is one of those beatdown days
The days that make think you’re in a phase
Of life.

Today is like the day you find your crush kind of hates you.
Today is the day you’re almost starting to hate food.
Today is not the kind of day you just give up and faint
Into the arms of some unwilling, kindly saint.

You think today couldn’t be worse but just imagine how it could.
Actually never mind it’d be stranger if you would.
Today is one of those days you think is about to **** you.
But maybe that’s just because you aren’t seeing the whole view.

Today is one of those days that makes you just a little bit cautious.
Today is one of those days you wish you had something like phosphorus.
Although I'll never say it loud,
I think my story I have found.

Today might be a beatdown, but you have to see tomorrow.
Because sunrises are beautiful to take pictures of.

So I hope I see you tomorrow.
NoFucksGiven Jul 2018
Unconsciously my fingers fly across the virtual keyboard of literature. Creating sentences and paragraphs, beginnings and endings, sunrises and sunsets that never seems to reach the ******. Unconsciously my eyes reread the words I wrote, the pictures I've painted with my words, yet I never feel the emotions I've laid down in them. Unconsciously I write without telling my feelings, the words rush around my mind but never seems to reach my fingers. Unconsciously I write about others putting their stories into my words, their emotions into my sentences. Unconsciously I can't seem to stop. I can't seem to take a step back and breathe for the sake of my self. Unconsciously I discard my emotions because in my mind thry are useless yet they are not.  I can't wake up from this self-unconciousness I have put my self in. Watching the world through eyes not of my own. Detached from myself of conscious. Unconsciously.
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