"sunsetting" poems
The cuckoo-throb, the heartbeat of the Spring;
The rosebud’s blush that leaves it as it grows
Into the full-eyed fair unblushing rose;
The summer clouds that visit every wing
With fires of sunrise and of sunsetting;
The furtive flickering streams to light re-born
’Mid airs new-fledged and valorous lusts of morn,
While all the daughters of the daybreak sing:—
These ardour loves, and memory: and when flown
All joys, and through dark forest-boughs in flight
The wind swoops onward brandishing the light,
Even yet the rose-tree’s verdure left alone
Will flush all ruddy though the rose be gone;
With ditties and with dirges infinite.
2.6k
there is an
old jewish hermit crab
spending his sunsetting years
in Boca.
after all these
years he still
finishes his beers,
but now he takes his coke
with cola.
he's gotten so old,
his heart's grown so sour,
that he believes himself
to be protestant;
remembers meeting ******
as a third-placing contestant
on Walt Disney's variety hour.
growing bored
with the Lord
he fancies the shuffleboard,
though he quickly grows tired
of being pushed over rough cement;
never invited to play--
he just came along whenever they went.
now he never thought
he'd make it this long,
he thought his heart
should have died from
being broken;
so he may not have
much longer in life,
but he'd like
to spend it wide open
so with polish for chrome
he shines up his dome
and makes haste to leave
his humble home.
he will sell his timeshare
--afer all, who cares?
and finally embrace
his freewheeling spirit;
--the West?
he'd never even been near it
well he didn't get very far at all
no, not even down passed the bar and all
when he was smashed by a car--
rims, tires, and all.
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 11:49 AM UTC
how lonely sits
the city says
lamentations
guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic
stress disorder,
think of it more like
a path for the
eyes.
one where eyes are finally forced away
from the works of hands
by the knock knock
knocking on
heaven's door,
everybody's saying,
hodi hapa? something's
wrong if no one's answering; tonight.
my neighbor whose
name is eej (for
real) came to
the hut with
his friend.
i said do you
have siblings
he said
i did
oh
said i
you are living
my worst nightmare
one thing about an african
childhood, they say fatalism, you say you
would think about death too
and who knows
what you'd
look
like
tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle
i gotta problem
what's your problem said he
well i think i'm not wearing enough colors
no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family
who knows what we all look like
inside the infinite space
of our souls
wonder if
blue means purity or
green means beauty
or red means strength
or love
or love
well
we all look
pretty much
the same asleep
hatred doesn't look
different in one
eye or another
but why does
it have to
be in the
eyes of
anyone
this mouse has
been asking
since
child
hood
why
why
why.
the cruelty
but
yet
still
and
for
ever
(you always did care for me yeah
you always did share with me yeah)
you always make me laugh, still
the book of jonah makes me
think of sea legs
and just everything,
you know all
the palm trees
huts, nonvoices
of our lives
the blessings rain down
an ocean sunsetting
on an Ocean sky.
siblings
be strong the
good kind of
dangerous
is
the
fire
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
Like smoke you dance in my daydreams,
Beckoning me with **** me eyes and a lazy grin
An orange hue sunsetting your fire,
The curl of your finger saying come hither
And I wake from this like fire into water
I watch you twirl slower and slower
Into steam, you disappear like the wind
and with resignation again I'll dream
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
She's like an ecstasy trip
Rolling in silk
The cloth from her hips
Tangles around my feet
She beckons me...
Assaulting my senses
Weakened defenses
Collapse at one touch
Her fingertips brush my skin
Pull me within...
Candy red smile
unearthly light glow
To be showered in sunsetting kisses
So blessed and mystic
She's like an ocean of sin
Swirling around the prow of my ship
I'm sinking into her seas
Waves swallow me...
The blush of her skin
Blood rushing within
Only she can begin
The freedom that my soul seeks
Liberate me!
Candy red smile
Unearthly light glow
To be showered in sunsetting kisses
So blessed and mystic
Dimming sky lights
Changing all I know
We're treading so close yet so distant
So blessed and mystic
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
summer incisions on a crystalline day
(it sorrows me to end a poem this way)
every leaf, every tree,
edged silhouetted sharp
against the pale blue cadet uniform color of a
portrait background framing sky,
this museum piece painting,
unsigned, unguarded, uninsured,
yet, surely the worlds most valuable
the sun's early morn golden glint reflection,
somehow pools in the palm of the each chlorophyll green flat goblet,
this necklace of carat gold cavatine melodies
gets me happy drunk on an aurora of
the green n' blue seasonal summer's glories,
upon the skin-stamped a caramel hallmark,
what we wait for all year long,
all the earth's colors crystalline pure,
my senses say it's as it was
on the first day of creation
this is not the first day of summer 2014,
yet, it should be so remarked,
for summer visions so perfect crystalline
are summer incisions,
allowing entry of interferon hopes of we irregular,
imperfected assorted human shapes,
the marvel of a free-for-all serenity,
nature's sweet permanent kindness to
wayfaring temporal humans
corporeal that I am, my being flooded
by all of this and a grateful satisfaction,
but my mind knows that as real as all this,
is as well, the not well, the ashen pallor inside,
the burnt tongue words that circulate
in my bloodstream, the status of my
reality, where my job, survival, is a
Monday day to one day thing, and where the luxury of being
summer incised
is a sometime thing
*and it sorrows me to end this poem this way
but I come from another place this day*
and the computer asks
save this poem?
and I answer,
no, save me, save my family,
even if it must rain every day for the rest of my
sunsetting life
*and it sorrows me to end this poem this way
but I come from another place this day*
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
dessimating my free will
with my hand between my legs sweaty n cold
and my the pinball
hungering for holes and big scores
in some beaten down alley
at the end of every road
my fathers crooked smile and a jand job
the ghost, the lover of yesterday
that american dream sinking in the credit hole
so dddeeeep it sunk beneath the bone
stings like the word no
blinding elephants
riding the tital wave
earth
there is no captain
only karma
holding us captive
a taste of our sewers
on the sweet ladies lips
ooo.
look.
tits.
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 7:35 AM UTC
From Sorrow to Acceptance -By Frances Ayers
On sorrows'wings I journeyed to a land where I had never been.
Each loss was undiscovered country,landscapes I had never seen,mountains I had never climbed.
I had taken a journey past familiar landmarks I missed, and memories that were past.I had buried the familiar stories and neglected the happiness,which lay buried deep beneath the earth,only now and then pushing to the surface.
I drank from bitter springs and sat among the weeds,neglecting to seperate them from the flowers.
Beheld only the sunsetting but forgot the beauty in each new day.
When I had shed enough tears,I remembered the laughter echoing in the valley and heard the birds chirping a new song.
I saw the sun reflecting on the water.
and instead of weeds,I saw flowers. Where there were empty patches of dirt,I saw seedlings and the possibility of new beginnings.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 8:24 AM UTC
anyhow
that was the day I gave up everything
one thousand hotel mirrors
well travelled.
train Milan, cheek-kissed Maria.
cognac. A man. Unconsumed.
Guylove dance, marketplace Castries.
Lord Jackson, Victor
Calypso kinging.
Anyhow
that was the day I gave up dancing
Jack lighthouse, broken glass,
spilled Guinness never forgiven.
Named my son for him.
Anyhow
that was the day I gave up talking
crew cut Poughkeepsie, émigré fashion
boarding cockle boat, Dunkirking
Queen Mary.
Nero sunsetting on piddling empire
wallmap fading red to wilted pink
scouring the bottom of titanic bucket,
glorious lido summer, dear Liza,
got a hole in it(torn piece of rubber
mnemonic for a mother)
anyhow
that was the day I gave up ***
now come the restoration of the king.
London shall rise again,
borne on tide of flying,
infinite darkness,
osmosis of light.
whisper saint Paulus,
de-clocked, unthroning,
myriad swimmers swarm
canal cut channel,
(furry animals cluster, cuddle
in unlikely couplings).
quavering timbers
blowing and swaying,
queen lay dying, long live the king.
anyhow
that was the day I gave up my mind
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
The sun set the moment I took my last breath-
But don't worry, my love, it was a peaceful death.
Like the heat of the day,
My warmth faded away,
I am now merely a ghost,
Held by the memories you hold close.
But don't mourn over me for too long,
Up in heaven I am once again strong.
Even though I've said my last goodbye,
You'll forever find my warmth in the sunsetting sky.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
THAT in my fever while sanity has escaped by baluster
i continue to gaze in daze across the sea of white-
capped madness
Each o-shaped mouth
Each Black-bead eye
and all the ears
all the chins
teeth
speak an infinite story of nothing but sadness.
And within the orchestral pit finely dressed musicians
they shed b-flat note tears; their mannequin powder-white
skin a color of pink's sunsetting murmur.
Simply, the true story is off stage toward this
improbable army audience; the finely carved polychrome
citizens start to move; half-bodied and more alive
than the flesh-kingdom.
Last night. Last night i felt.
That one's life can be as real as one's imagination
if you sinerely wish it.
:: 08-23-2018 ::
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
I discovered that the sunrise is almost more beautiful than the sunset;
the colours are so vivid, so expressive in comparison to the black night;
the sunset changes the colour of the sky, the sunrise invents colours.
More often than usual I catch the sunsetting rather than rising;
the early hours of the rising sun are the setting time of my eyelids,
- but by god, when I am awake to see it, I'm lost for a moment.
I have a history of comparing past lovers to sunsets;
each one I described as beautiful, breath-taking,
and unfortunately, each has been buried behind mountains as well.
I wait for a love that'll have me singing with the birds at six in the morning, that'll have me peacefully resting before the clock strikes twelve - I wait for the boy that I compare to sunsets, the boy that will no longer just be a metaphor for the setting sun, but the true sun.
The boy that will be the sun, both setting and rising.
(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Everything stays the way it should in days
where we belong in beauty on the television
that could make the brain upset from all the
controversies that flood the earth with wickedness
and lies to make people like me resent the world
bury me
learn from me
until the death of me
Ya see the people want to believe that we could be
as free as we want to be in this economy while no
difference has been made
the evil ones think to block out the sun so we could
have all the shade
for their amusement,
bury me
learn from me
until we are truly free.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 1:10 PM UTC
machine oil sky fade to black
blue white blue green yellow orange red brown
machine oil sky spectrum spectacle spread colors dripping downwards
soporifims sprinkle heavily
dream curls the mind
the ephemeral feeling like 'this is all there is'
spectre trees stand splitting
machine oil sky change time and
slip sunsetting tonight
hazy mind laying on high
dancing in machine oil sky
coalesce splendid waltz the cathedral
enervate a dreams vision breathing upheaval
gazing awestruck wonderous eyes
dazzled in machine oil sky
it is a tea filter tinting scatter light
machine oil sky what a sight
machine oil sky downwards darker now
machine oil sky begins to die
forever gone until tomorrow again
goodbye for now machine oil sky
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 4:32 AM UTC
I'm sorry I'm collapsible,
while, you are all mighty.
Cutting out more shapes like my sister's and I.
Allowing us to be worshipped
for what lies between our legs
not admired for what's inside our brains.
Penned this down to ask him:
How the moon illuminates heinous crimes?
Or compares the bruises upon my chest
to the sunsetting skies?
Don't pray to not be *****
or a woman to be paid (not in compliments)
So by all means- tell me how respected she is
that your fist is mighty,
Adams apple mightier
She just crumbles beneath your palms.
I'm sorry I'm so shredded,
they can't read the apologies I've recited upon the palms of my hand, but my father has possession of the ink to write over a women's existence like it's his right.
Mother is ashes,
father leaves a trail of them below his feet,
In that moment, I realized-
A woman will die to survive.
While, all a man has to do is thrive off her oxygen.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
give you my word
——————
***‘tis but one, all you’ll ever receive,
not more than that, ‘tis all you’ll need
not one of the usual suspects,
not love or truth, beyond care,
neither joy and tears suffice,
certain it’s not suffering, even living
all those come to an end, ultimately,
and the word I surrender to you,
for pore absorption is unending,
unlimited, no horizon or sunsetting
the one thing that extends hope,
though that is not it either,
the one thing we will individualize,
agree to disagree amicably
the word?
why it is one we greet the day,
even if unthought or left unsaid,
our own shared secret chord,
the word I give you, and you to me, is
the very, the blessed unrationed reason,
the why and the wherefore,
to exist!***
beauty
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 3:21 PM UTC