"sunscreen" poems
big sweaters, ghibli, acrylic paint, cafes, knit blankets and unplanned afternoon naps on the couch, gardens, bananas, vanilla almond milk, soft yarn to crochet into ****** scarves, candles after midnight, the big trees with bulky roots, patio furniture, pianos in random buildings, the internet, manatees, the boundless colours of nail polish, peanut butter & honey, rubber boots, pens that write well, fresh new notebooks, skylights, american netflix, mothers that understand, tête à têtes, one glass of sweet white wine, awkward eye contact that turns into comfortable kissing, airplanes, fresh air, baseball caps, the female collective, the really good dark chocolate, flowers, pumpkin spice lattes and ***** chai lattes, candid laughter, yoga, oceans, high waisted shorts, striped t-shirts, docile cats, playful pups, french presses, integrity, sunscreen, meerkats, penguins, chameleons, autumn leaves, fall fashion, ruby woo mac lipstick, osho, dynamic meditation, compassion, siblings, scrambled eggs, smart phones, garageband, metronomes, hot glue guns, quinoa, ferry boats, soft hands, bicycles, real people, fat snowflakes in ample, graceful ********** backpacks that don't hurt your shoulders, hair conditioner, multi-vitamins, soft sand under bare feet, people that own up to lies, clarity, samsara, satori, samasati, visions, echinacea, lavender oil and frankincense, ambrosia apples and ripe avocados, authenticity, Morgan Freeman's voice, good kissers, ******* iced tea on a hot day, curtains, the smell of beeswax, art galleries, hand massages and foot massages, reiki, plums, mild thunderstorms, soccer ***** good surprises, when birds don't **** on your head.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
I need kisses
like a fish needs colored rocks
and a bear needs honey
I need it like
eyes need sunglasses
and skin needs sunscreen
Like people need chocolate
or french fries or fried food
or fast wi-fi or vacation
The thing about needing
- I don't
- It'd be nice though
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
this is my excavation to
the days coming along
running hands with laughter
throwing it down on the table
*straight
flush
okay, cool*
sister, these things don’t matter
when we’re twisting into the sun
with pants that are too short
the fountain rich with
iced chai
tangled with the peculiar
the beautiful
through these moments
I commend
our hearts for finding each other
love is always on the move
as sure as shoe shine
as mahogany
like timidity to relinquish
to let the universe take hold
and instill this emotion
into my body
fit it all in my heart
O, singer of love
fit it all in my heart
the knell
the reverberation
the cotton that lands
on your hair
the sunscreen stuck in my ear
we are a sketch of two travelers
sleeping under stars
the fire
finally dies down
the rapture of the universe
is overwhelming
everything flows
everyone is connected
and this music we hear
is constant
like gentle waters falling
this too, sister
makes my cane solemn
and I draw you in the sand
only to watch the tide
wash you next to me
the emotion
wrangled in English
simply means good
simply means
a full listen and
dear sister
because everything begins
and will be remembered always
as love
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
The sharp line separating where the sun met your skin
And where it was protected by your shirt is more prominent than ever
Because you forgot to lather on your sunscreen.
The dirt settles into a thin film
Covering every inch of your body
Caking into your hair making it feel
Like you haven't washed your hair for days.
The bugs are constantly buzzing around your face
Leaving bites up and down your arms
Making them itchy and irritated.
But, the sunburns, dirt filled clothes, and bugs
Only strengthens my love for the game.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
My mother was a writer.
I remember her,
papers spread out upon a bed sheet in the sand,
stacked pebbles protecting her work from the wind
as I made drip-castles at the water's edge
and braided crowns from wild poppies.
I would run to her so she could
rub grape sunscreen into my sandy shoulders
and I asked her once,
“Mama,
is that poetry?”
and she said “No little one,
you are poetry,
this only tries to be.”
and I thanked her,
and ran back to the water
to search for flat stones to skip,
and thought no more of poetry.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
My youth was short and blurred.
I imagine it felt like the last few moments of Kurt Cobain’s life;
All light and no color.
Though I was born a winter baby,
Summers irrevocably held my heart.
They tasted like the sunscreen that dripped
onto my chlorine-damp lips
And smelled sweet like the honeysuckles
That strangled the Forget-Me-Nots,
Whose roots twisted between the cemeteries
Of our once-pets beneath.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 8:14 PM UTC
When I think about the future with you I smile about the little things
I think about the late nights on the couch, eating leftover Chinese food and laughing until we cry
I think about the days at the pool, putting sunscreen on your back, and finding your sunglasses for you because you misplace everything
I think about the sunny afternoons, exhausted from the work day, and you're pouring me a drink and telling me you're so ******* proud of me
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 11:54 AM UTC
The Heat, and not the sports team
Has come here for a while
It's enough to set some records
And to **** the farmers smiles
Humidity and high temperatures
Add to make our life like hell
It's drying up our creeks and streams
There's no water in our wells
We do not use our ovens
To cook our meals, not now at least
We just leave meat on the counter
The outside heat will cook the beast
Our lawns are brown and dormant
But the weeds are growing strong
There is chickweed and crabgrass where once
Green grass did once belong
The splash pads are on overtime
To help keep people cool
We've cooling centers everywhere
They're in all of the schools
In order to cool down at home
I have my a/c set to freeze
And if at times this doesn't work
I watch Christmas DVD's
Remember hats and sunscreen
to keep the heat off of your head
In fact it is so god ****** hot
I tan while I'm in bed
I remember as a child
Summer never got as hot as this
Compared to recent temperatures
Is like a blow job to a kiss
We pray for heat in winter
And in the summer, the reverse
I know I would like the snow
The heat is much, much, worse
Instead of just complaining
I should just take it, brave the heat
But for now, I'll watch my movies
Sing my carols, cool my feet
I know that come this winter
I'll be crying for the heat
Just remind me of this little poem
And I'll shut up, and take my seat.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
Thank you, tourists
For pausing.
For capturing
Every moment.
Your cameras draped,
Quivering below your necks
Your necks rosy
with sun.
Sunscreen scents
Swarm the air
But the air bursts
Diverse Dialects,
Dogmas,
and Dreams.
Thank you
From a resident,
A student,
A visitor,
A wanderer.
Thank you
For immobilizing
Glorious minutes
For impeding time
Just for a moment.
For acknowledging-
So that those who neglect to notice,
Once again realize their riches.
Thank you
For your quiet grins
As you regard
The world.
Thank you, travelers.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 6:08 AM UTC
but I am a different
kind of adventurous.
even if I only dance with
others, or hit whistle notes
with Brett, even if Joe's the
only one I'd kiss without
a single regret
I love long car rides, I'll
take your shift, I'll let
you sleep an extra two hours
I love the smell of sunscreen
and graham crackers and how I've been
sitting in these shorts for too
long that there has to be
a sweat stain.
I don't know, have you ever had
cheetos at a rest-stop before Modesto?
We'd make it to Santa Cruz on time.
I may not climb the Himalaya's with
you, or go to Paraguay because I'm
afraid of chronic diarrhea, but I am
so much more than my fears.
Have you ever had cheetos at a rest-stop before Modesto?
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
girls like you
deserve a love that
always feels
like summer,
a love that
sings like waves against the sand
feels like freckles and anklet tanlines
smells like sunscreen and
Mackinac Island Fudge
dripping down your chin—
a love that never ends
like those rays of sun that
spray over Lake Michigan
and tickle heaven.
you part your lips
to speak and
just like that
my world
becomes
lyrical—
dipping and twisting
like a kite in the sky
flowing freely like
your baby hairs coming
out of your braid,
like your laugh as it
echoes down the
quiet shoreline,
around the chambers
of my soul.
girls like you
deserve a love that
always feels
like summer—
I pray that
your summer
never ends.
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 9:35 PM UTC
Waves taller than I was
cool atlantic ocean
grainy sand between my fingers
burying my toes.
Hot sunburns and salty hair
the beach bars where we used to eat off the kids meal
going back to your condo
sitting on your couch.
Thrown over his shoulders
covered in sand, the warm weight used to be fun but now it just scares me
you scare me.
My shoulders were kissed
sunscreen on my back
the lukewarm pools and marco polo races holding my breath until i thought my lungs would explode.
The water would rush back with the pull of the ocean our sundresses damp around our ankles, bruises over our mouths where you held them shut
The porch light was on to the condo my towel draped over your balcony, bathing suit bottoms in your bedroom.
Forgotten toys and to pairs of arm floaties because i was never good at swimming, you left your watch on the shoreline.
Crying because of the pain and the hatred and love
Never knowing if I would be cuddled or touched
but knowing i would be cuddled after being touched
those sunburnt spots caressed by you.
White caps peak as the sun rises, we’re cold with fevers and abuse, shaking as our feet are wet again with salty water and your watch pulled out to the sea, lost forever.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
The clock strikes 3:30 and the pit behind the school opens.
We feast on the smell of burning skin and sunscreen.
There is chaos as instruments are strewn across the back room,
No exits and the doors are blocked.
My eyes slide past his but I'm too burned out to care.
Freshmen are the worst,
Insisting on acting as if
They are four year olds.
Not a second late, for Whit is never late.
I have lost feeling in my legs
Still I have perfect
Technique just as he does. Water.
Water does not have an existence in this world.
Heat and sun have taken over.
Our tuba players have given up,
There they lay down in the burning
Grass. He never complains.
As I'm close to my breaking point,
Air no longer passes my
Lips and not one note escapes my keys.
The perfect string of notes and rhythm
Sound from my left. He never missed
A note.
March it back,
March it back,
March it back sixteen counts.
An endless routine.
Opening set.
These single words are bitter sweet.
In ten minutes I am free to go home
And write poetry about him.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Put on some ******* sunscreen,
white boy
Put on some ******* sunscreen
now.
Your people are fragile flowers
you need
protection.
Pull up your ******* pants,
white boy.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
I'm mad I'm fat
It's not my fault
My mom told me that
I look like Wolverine
But I never wear sunscreen
They call me trigga
Cause I am bigga
I feel like Tigga
Because I am a gold digga
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
Scattered, splattered gold – like sunshine, once
It crashes into a dark place, a cave by the sea,
Where no one ever goes.
She can pick it up, let it slip and drip
Between her fingers, fingertips. But
She can’t put it back together again.
This girl, someone’s child, she dances
And reads books, and likes to ride her bike
To ride roller-coasters, to fall in love like
The famous people. Mickey Mouse.
She loves love.
Or she used to, she once did, not now.
When she was young, she would write poems
And she would know so, that they were poems.
But somewhere, the rhythm of her mind changed:
Syncopation, alliteration, became the sing-song
That helped her through the night.
*tonight
i don't belong here
my skin is not mine
hair like rope
up, i climb
to nowhere
tonight
pits where my eyes were
petals for lips
irises
we fall into blue
deep violet, violent blue
like oceanwater weight
i am, but not here
like kafka on the shore*
So now she stays, she lives in the dark place,
That same cave where the sea places
Her secrets, things that need to be saved.
And she’s wrist deep in what used to be
Something warm, and sweet, and really quiet –
Holding sundust, smeared
Willing it back into the sky.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
My skin is speckled
With small, dainty brown spots
Formed by genetics and
Too much sun exposure, too little sunscreen over the years.
Someone once called them angel kisses,
Indications where lips can fall
And rest momentarily,
Just as the angels did to create them.
They freckle my body
Like stars plastered across the sky;
Randomly placed, no real order.
Like ornaments, they are little imperfections to decorate me.
If you'd like,
If you'd please,
Kiss them one by one,
Connecting them into constellations.
Trace your lips along the spots
To form the Big Dipper,
Libra and Orion's Belt.
Your lips become thread this way,
Weaving through these marks
To sew me up, keep me together.
Your lips created a stitch,
Making me your personal constellation.
I'll shine as bright as those stars,
Gleam and glow in the dark as you kiss the spots
Across the landscape that is me,
Your lips ignited them into constellations,
And I'd never felt so alive.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
This is no summer of love, life, or living
no stargazing, butterbeer-soaked movie nights at the library,
or calls from my private school friends
yet
just hours spent on the computer and worrying, simultaneously.
Putting on makeup blindly,
my glasses clipped onto my tank top
that's too tight to wear outside the house,
while songs play that take me back to the previous year,
when all I had was math corrections on the breakfast table at 7:00
while it snowed,
and the days we would just reel around, looking forward to class trips
and lock-ins
that consisted of running around
first on sunlit streets, and then
around the pitch-black halls of the empty school,
wary shrieks and giggles chasing each other in the air.
But now
I'm just leaning here on my bed, eyes tired and feet covered in blisters,
thinking that the next three sweat-and-sunscreen-filled months
are going to be anything but a vacation.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
The sun warms my salty skin
and my pores open to let your love in.
I feel as beautiful as the ocean,
I am my greatest muse.
Today was a good day darling, see,
I have captured every second of my daydreaming,
pinned those very pictures to my wall.
And you wonder why I never get out of bed, though I keep talking about the colour palette of my romantic days.
Your wind has not shifted - but my winter has come. You can’t hear the children in me cry.
Suffocating happens through minor incidents like your softly spoken words searching for an affectionate listener.
I cannot breathe, my god, don‘t you understand?
Winter has come, and I am trapped in a fourteen-year-old‘s body trying to figure out where she went wrong.
It has been cold for a decade and the sun still burns holes in my chest.
I do not need you to understand, for you are my sun, my light, my temple. I need you to see the shadows in which I wander, the orphans I have left behind -
My skin has weathered, and I cannot find the right sunscreen to care for it.
Jul 31, 2023
Jul 31, 2023 at 6:47 PM UTC
sunscreen , wet cement. i taste sweat
at the collarbone crevice below yr neck. all of us
hot spring eyes , pussing blisters bleeding down
naked heels. it's ******* hot here in the shade
of heaven. i want off the ride
popping pimples at the bathroom sink
yellowing from the blood , from the dirt we
pick up by touching each other
but i run the tongue , baby, the whole
apartment smells like a bath bomb. i need
to burst open beneath your mouth, slice the grape fruit in
thin pieces. imagine the day when my hair grows back:
then we'll know suffering has learned to love the space
under the bed
where our bodies used to be
so in this night terror
i play the fishnet stockings of a long
legged woman. struggling against
them, you drown between my thighs
like this. we squirm in the humidity of the night
like this.
then in the next,
i go missing at a family party and you look for me,
i'm waiting to surprise you in a childhood closet, i'm in
the kitchen washing dishes so you get to put yr hands
around me. the world knows i'm in love with you so no one
will complain.
and every terror begins as gentle as this, when
you round the corner to the bathroom and i'm in
the tub. what are you doing
i'm smiling
what are you doing
what does it look like i'm doing
that funny little animal , how badly you want it
to be out loud. then we can't paint the goat blood on our
door, we can't let god pass us over. yr knees are locked
and my veins are loaded. here, you hold the gun. the lamb
is ready for slaughter.
a bunch of empty guts, some tylenol buried
in clammy hands you come in an hour
back to knock on the door: i told
them you got sick
thank you
don't come home tonight
thank you
i powder my nose and the holiday
lights are strung before thanksgiving. you
will keep climbing mountains with the blonde
arm hairs of the glad hearts. you are too good to
go looking in lower places;
you are too good to **** a hound of hell.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
A Bird, which will be of the age
is not good enough, | is or will be;
In order to be able to be controlled;
on behalf of the deaths of so many,
unique in the city,
In particular, the Church is the Church
by virtue of the form of the the fire in the green stars;
standardized, Mary was born on the bed
of Allah's Goat, Lord, this is my time,
The blood; head,
American adulterers here are golden
United Nations members Software
In the history of the sport doctor,
Another item that is contrary to God's,
Its features contained in the nutrition and diet,
literary experts thinking Igor
the name of the topic that is the true spirit
of Greek and Latin; The name of the old | one
together with its own nature; Brazil in the news,
and for the first time; Exercises early
in the morning; There is a clean slate
blind blind; Sunscreen is the rallying cry
on Wall Street because heat and women
do not produce Alchemy; Education
| changes to the garden and changes his focus
to focus on the Russian psychiatrist | |
whose Heroes are adults;
with Jews, all are members of holes
At the entrance to the project the green tea tree
in front of the French school in Virginia
is another; ||full of the country I went with him
to the next town,
where Black Hill was available,
free as smoke, Regards from the sand
at the beach; After watching the food
and Hills and Hills and Hills of *******
firings and labor unrest, the characters,
you'll cry, face south, a wise driver || | |
And it was the attacks of the servants,
Marcus picked the best fights;
Johnny Angel pushing her on her stomach
in Marcus's Museum of America
in England, boughs and leaves falling
About Einstein's wife's head; The Entire |
Beginner's football club piles on top
of the screaming woman
understandably horrifying for those
not involved, lest what is defined
in the term evil, is the same ******
of the trees; The happy city working
on the beach; Growing up I began
to stroll the paradisiacal part of the city.
The girl's glory bore witness
to ligroàkọsílẹ's second wife,
when the bomb hit the covers of adultery;
Ever trusting, the fornicators
taking the oil to the women,
Since in seeking you, I will see to it:
that they speak |||||
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
i love that sound
a wind walks by and stirs the trees
that rushing breathing sound
the leaves make as the branches are swayed in the wind
i love the many voices of daylight
a lawnmower and childrens laughter
birds chattering
a small plane boiling overhead
pulling a sign for some event
i love the sound of summer
i love its taste
ice cold soda when your sitting on hot pavement
the texture of a overcooked hotdog at a ballpark
i love the taste of
your lips while you are sunbathing
sweat and sunscreen are an ****** mix
i love how summer tastes to my mind
it feels young
it tastes free
i reach up with incredible grace
****** the contrail from that jetliner far overhead
and tie it into a ribbon for your hair
there you go my lovely
you are a young french princess of the world
i love your taste most of all
you taste like love to me
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
Shades of yellow cast on our dreams
Skin burning through layers of sunscreen
When gifts of foresight weigh on our beings
Let great powers grow evermore carefree
To satisfy eternity.
Empirical evidence against the empire’s truth
Makes humankind akin to a neurotic fool
Who comes to think that it’ll always nullify
Oh for we all must die!
Young and old both playing their games
Seduced by the baits of short-term gains
Unable to afford the bail out of prison
Wait for great powers to relieve this addiction
To satisfy eternity.
Spawns of decadence in the wake of our new tools
Let us deter suicide with the poisons that soothe
They all say everything will fall, to act seems futile
Oh for we all shall die!
Whether in shame or in desire
Must we forget all we’ve acquired
For yesterday’s pride, tomorrow’s glory
Shake hands with friends and slain the enemy
To satisfy eternity.
Jul 12, 2022
Jul 12, 2022 at 8:33 PM UTC
The kaleidoscope patterns of our footprints in the sand
And those of the seagulls that litter the beach
Like black and white winged pebbles
Are slowly being washed away by the rising water line,
Time and the encroaching tide welcoming us
Into the sea, with the Dolphins and the mermaids
Swimming and lounging on little mountains of rock
Close to the shore, beckoning us into their world.
Our world lies further back, behind the tide line,
The umbrellas and sunscreen and such
To shield us from the blazing sun
That sustains all life in their realm and ours,
And is, perhaps, the first and strongest connection we share
In this blinding world of sand and sunshine,
Where we and them become us.
We wade into the sea, all tentative, coltish legs
And shivers as the waves crash over us.
Everything turns magical as we dive in,
The underwater world blinding us with
It's salty, sandy currents and steams,
But through the rose tint borne
Of our foreignness in this place,
All I can see are dreams coming true.
A lady of the sea paddles up to us,
Offering us her treasures if we'll come
Live in her coral home and breathe the same salt water,
And I, lost in her world, found in her beauty,
Reach out to take her pale hand in mine,
And become as she says,
"I am yours, forever now, as you are forever mine."
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
i loved you, right
a love unreturned,
unrequited
but alas, still
stoked by little miners with
hearts of brass their
iron faces grimacing at the task,
little beads of lots of sweat
dripping down their
taut frowns.
so what i meant to say is that
i love you, right,
and it’s a love that still
burns, bright, enough
to bring the boys home but
let’s be honest
it wouldn’t best the sun, but
**** it’s a terrible light,
it throws everything into a soft relief
where pretty, soft voiced sheep say
pretty, soft voiced things like
‘it’s okay to feel this way’
‘i want you to be happy’
‘she sounds amazing’
and other things that normal people
tell me mean that either
i don’t love you
or i’m moving on.
they don’t understand though,
i mean,
i love you, right,
though all that sheep **** makes it
sound as if
i’m waving you off,
smashing the celebratory champagne on your bow,
waving you off into the distance with a lacy hanky,
joyful tears cascading down my powdered cheekbones,
i’m greedy
maybe even,
needy,
a disgusting word and
even if i make pacts with myself
to the order of
‘he can do so much better’
‘i am damaged goods’
and other associated half truths
i’d be a liar if i said that
i would kick you out of bed
or even rebuke the slightest of
advances, no i’d take my chances
and i cannot bear it, really
i’d touch you and whatever wholeness
whatever someone else would
parse as clean or pure or holy
wouldn’t disintegrate, no
wouldn’t tarnish, no
would most probably just implode
under the combined pressure
of emotionally-mentally-fucked-in-the-head-doe
(where the **** do you think the miners got all that coal)
so, yes… wait. no?
i love you, right
but just ignore it
enjoy the lights
please remember them
tell your friends and
cherish them until
they are taken by
death, drink, dementia
but i’m sure your mum,
teacher,
or television
long ago informed you that
bright lights are detrimental to vision
so think of your future and
forget now
if you’re tempted by how i look at you
remember how
sunburn seems innocuous
until you see your skin
and sunscreen pretty useless
‘til you learn the sun will win
and the best way to avoid
dainty melanoma
is
to
go
inside
and
lock
your
door
and act like you don’t know her.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 11:51 PM UTC