"sunup" poems
I only took the moon, veiled in my cube;
I drew her innate water off — but not for good.
Now the sun can’t take its eyes
off the blindfolded black moon!
Off this night, the sunup is yet to unleash—
the dawn, let alone the tucked-away noon!
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
The woman makes a house the home
and fills the man's horizontal spread with dreams.
Four walls can’t hold a woman inside
she is veiled but not tied!
The arch in her back hits the mark
virtually dwarfs the pyramid dwarfs the sunup.
The light at the end of the tunnel here is love.
Her inner mystery is her paintbrush.
The colour on her canvas
is a far cry from the rainbow.
It doesn’t fade nor falls on the floor
keeping it up the time lingers on.
Every star here from far and near
feels at home with a mirror!
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
Out here there are no hearthstones,
Hot grains, simply. It is dry, dry.
And the air dangerous. Noonday acts queerly
On the mind's eye erecting a line
Of poplars in the middle distance, the only
Object beside the mad, straight road
One can remember men and houses by.
A cool wind should inhabit these leaves
And a dew collect on them, dearer than money,
In the blue hour before sunup.
Yet they recede, untouchable as tomorrow,
Or those glittery fictions of spilt water
That glide ahead of the very thirsty.
I think of the lizards airing their tongues
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow
And the toad guarding his heart's droplet.
The desert is white as a blind man's eye,
Comfortless as salt. Snake and bird
Doze behind the old maskss of fury.
We swelter like firedogs in the wind.
The sun puts its cinder out. Where we lie
The heat-cracked crickets congregate
In their black armorplate and cry.
The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother,
And the crickets come creeping into our hair
To fiddle the short night away.
30.8k
Come let’s squeeze in
while the sphere’s moon-lit cheek
turns her other sunny-cheek.
Come let’s mingle in the splash
while the sunup basks in
swims across the dewy green.
Come let’s try it again
while we are alive and breathing
there is a time for everything.
Come let’s be creative no ocean is deep
while a pearl shines in the seashell.
A handful of earth is wrapped
in the midst of a colossal airy space,
there is still a wonder in ****** green!
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
Sunup
expectations low-
another day aimed my way
- till the sky became
a color never named
and changed my world - again,
a new day.
r ~ 10/12/14
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
She came one morn in a pool of red, rising in the east
And she left that day in a pool of red, west-bound, daylight’s priest
So I looked upon her cooler side that lay on sheets of black
Waiting for her graceful form to usher daylight back.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
Road Trippin, with my click
Excited as all hell
Blaring Beats through Bama
Salty ocean I can smell
We reach the main strip
Find the Days Inn
First we eat our fill
Now where’s my gin
The beach is a constant party
Sunup to sundown
We have three rooms connected
Hailing from T Town
Many more friends are here
Joining our festivities
We spent more money on *****
Then any other amenities
Man after man begins to drop
Who will last the night
Incorporate the puke and rally
Get back in the fight
The week has reached it’s close
Ready to head home
Yet once we leave I know to well
I’ll miss the sea’s white foam
Well so long my dear Panama
Another trip I will make
For I had the time of my life
On my first spring break
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
dead of night
soon be sunup
providence plays
her game
hide and seek
hide and seek
hide and seek
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
There is a transect from colour to colourless,
There is a traversing from sunup to sunset!
A track from vividness to lifelessness!
****
Morning brings colour to life
Birds sign and fly, hark back splendour of work,
Butterfly invigorate redden of existence
Existence of life in the doodle nature
Every one blossom for breathing!
****
But we are waiting for dusk
Becoming everything murky
Than eliminate nature from life
Carnage everything with our manliness
and swollen with pride!
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
searching shadow made-
its way over the horizon
great sundial of the sun
swept all before and after-
sunup and sundown
sundial on the wrist
Mankind slicing to pieces
the day before the stars-
of black night take over
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
biting my tongue on words it's too early for
grasping at air like you're there to be touched
craving your voice from sunup to sundown
praying, begging, these hopes wont be crushed
its your magnetism
its what pulls me to you
its the way you inspire me
its the things i want to say and do
i think about you constantly
with you im at my happiest
i want to hear you all the time
as im nursing this single wish
its your magnetism
its your voice your words
its your smile that i adore
its your laughter as my reward
theres a plane with my name on it
thats what im hoping for
theres fifteen thousand miles
and im done with each one, no more
i feel like a child again
the world is my oyster
space is the limit on my dreams
and you're a star cluster
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
The sun does not rise and set on you.
It took you leaving for me to find that out.
I loved you from sunup to sundown.
But you were not a king, you refused to wear your crown.
What on earth did you have to stand for?
You didn’t see love standing right next to you.
You chose the easy way out, you left me standing alone
you didn’t once hear me out.
How do you think it makes me feel,
to see you walk away for no reason at all.
Man, I had you feeling like you were ten
feet tall, you told that at dinner one night.
Gosh, you held me close and made love to
me all night, you had me thinking that we’d
be alright.
What happened to you, or who happened to you?
Why did you change your mind and walked away?
Two years later, and I’m still feeling some type of way.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 2:04 PM UTC
4/18/2019
When I feel like hanging out,
Everyone is out and about.
But when I need to get away,
They all seem to want to stay.
God bless my introversion,
Because the other way is confusion.
I dislike the way I am,
Don’t compare me to a clam!
You’ve got me wrong,
Though at times I look strong;
Inside, I’m contorted into a wince,
Praying constantly for more competence.
At the end of a long day of stress,
I sit and mull it over – attempt progress.
I wonder why I am so put-down,
Feels like I’m on the edge of breakdown.
Then I think of the days previous,
Everything becomes obvious.
I need breaks from people,
That’s always been the principle.
In the moment, it’s easy to slip up,
And think I can do this ’til sunup.
But I am weak when it all comes,
I quickly forget my problems.
I have unlimited limitations,
It’s hard to turn down invitations.
People can’t expect much from me,
But I can’t just blame my anatomy.
It seems a daily and vicious cycle
Splurge and crash, it’s becoming critical.
Balance doesn’t seem practical,
Why am I so hypocritical?
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 4:31 PM UTC
When he was eighteen
Went to his mom to confess
Mom I'm gay
All I do is think of men
Dream of two or three at a time
From Sunup till forever
Staying on my knees never getting up
I'm going amputate my feet
Donate them to an amputee
Not one to be wasteful
Hope this don't make you sick mom
Called his father who answered just to scream
Don't call me ***
Then the familiar sound of the phone hitting the ground
Starts laughing cause this happens every time he calls
Six hundred spent on replacements
His mother goes to interrupt he cuts her off
Mom there's more
I'm addicted to gay ****
To the point I seen everyone
Now I watch straight and my stomach turns seeing the girl
Would've told you sooner but I didn't want you to be like dad
Your all I got
But I been busting nuts for years staring at men's butts
One day, and this bad
But I almost ***** the mailman
But Saved by the Bell came on and Zack is my favorite
Hope I haven't let you down
I hope you still love me
I hope.... She cuts him off
With a long strong embrace
Few tears falling down her face
Love whoever you want
Be with anyone you choose
I'll always want what I always wanted for you
Just to be happy
You have never disappointed me
Until now
Remember those nights when you was five
I sat and held you to calm you after your father left you
The anger you had at fourteen and took out on me
The lost time we had cause of the two jobs I had in order for us to make it
But most important
Don't you remember the most important thing I taught you
If you did you wouldn't be sitting here telling this story
It's a good one and if I wasn't so hurt I would make you prove it
I can't believe this is how you do me knowing I'll die fighting for you
This ain't your first lie but it's by far the worst lie
I'm seeing what I always been afraid of
You being like him
She came by today to let you know in person being you quit taking her calls
You were gone so she told me that you should know
She's not pregnant
But now what bothers me more is
What if she was
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Our eyes locked,
Our lips kissed,
Our hands caressed,
Exploring every curve of our being.
One by one,
We carelessly tossed what covered us on the floor,
Paying attention to every revelation,
That came by.
You let out my *******
And heaved a sigh,
I could see how much you wanted to hold
Squeeze and **** them,
But you restrained yourself.
You wanted this to be special,
It was our first time together,
You wanted it to be slow but blissful,
You wanted it to be sealed in my mind and heart forever,
We lost track of time,
We were lost in ourselves,
I opened my world to you,
And you came in with pleasure.
You took us to worlds’ unseen,
No one existed there but us,
We rocked and locked,
As we burst in ecstasy of our love making,
Then we cuddled wasted,
Waiting for sunup.
© Anita_W
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
Open your heart to the mornings sun.
The dawn that holds unlimited possibilities.
It’s the gift that holds miracles,
inside breeze,
song of birds,
and the heartbeat of life.
Present your dreams to Saint Matin
The Sunup that wraps eyes in moments blanket.
It’s your thoughts that sow them into reality.
In yellow diamonds.
Pinks so luxurious,
and red-oranges a glowing.
Greet with gratitudes voice at first light
The genesis that gleams with brilliance.
It’s the self being divinity in motion
in the journey.
Awakening to spirit
and inside celebration of love.
Just breath into the Canticle of morning
it is rhythm of love and harmony.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 8:30 AM UTC
there’s an open
wound on main street
and i wish people would
stop asking about it
because every question pulls
the hole a little wider
something was always
just a little bit
wrong
a constant drip
in the fridge
a fruit fly trapped
in the bake case
missing corners
of floor tiles
pictures hanging
slightly crooked
one foot of a table
unscrewed to a wobble
the rattle
of the heater
smiles from those
i couldn’t trust
a tiny pinprick of
stress behind my eyes
every year was
the year that would
make it or break it
so nobody was
surprised
except those who
couldn’t see the scuffs
last year
things were supposed
to be so good
everyone talking
mad **** about their
incredible ideas
i had a few
ideas of my own
nobody ever had to
teach me how to
dream big
overachieve
overexert myself
and fall hard
the quiche crusts stuck
to the bottoms of pans
and there was no way to
get the slice out
without the whole entire
thing falling apart
i might have been
the first slice to go
but at least i got
out of there
before the hand that
pulled me out
was the hand that
dropped the pan
a glass pie plate
shattered and
the way things were
supposed to be suddenly
over
just
like
that
and i’m still
reeling
on the sidewalk
staring at the
empty shell of
something i once loved
big hopes
big dreams
big plans
small town
too small to
hold them all
every piece of my
future points
backwards
arms of a clock
working their way
into the past
it’s not in how
the damage was done
but in how you
heal from it
there’s an
open wound on
main street
maybe if we gave
south street stitches
we could pull it closed
but still i question
my existence as if
scones and coffee
and thursday mornings
before sunup were
the only things that
gave me
stability
maybe
they were
maybe people
pull themselves into
an orbit around that
which keeps them grounded
an orbit of
routine and the
dissonance needed
to stir ice cubes
in a plastic cup
to create peace
in the moment
of chaos
or maybe
the one place
that always felt
like home to me
was just a cafe
on the four corners
and now there’s
an open wound
not so much
on main street
but the pocket of my
heart where hope lives
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 9:20 PM UTC
Stop writing poems about words
In darkness, scrawling notes that can’t wait till morning
Aspiring for perfection in seconds, in thirds
With embellishments, stop your adorning
Scribble on cards beside creaking beds
Gifts pushing through subconscious gray
Onto a pad once too new to embed
And tarnish with ink’s disarray
But write in the dark so each word ‘fore the last fades
Refine in the sunup of morrow
Immediate gain is pernicious charade
Leading only to anguish and sorrow
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 4:07 AM UTC
baby baby baby
come dance with me
baby baby baby
come dance with me
we'll carve the floor up
we'll put on all the moves till sunup
we'll show them how it is done
we'll shimmy and Watusi our hot buns
we'll eclipse that old strobe light
we'll be swinging all through the night
baby baby baby
come dance with me
baby baby baby
come dance with me
we'll tear the house down
we'll be the best steppers in town
we'll make a fabulous syncing team
we'll jive on into our Salsa dream
we'll have the joint pulsating hard
we'll nicely calibrate our dance card
baby baby baby
come dance with me
baby baby baby
come dance with me
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 4:37 AM UTC
No Tonka, no Barbie,
No Monopoly game.
Just a pack on my back.
The rest have the same.
We start at age three.
Continue 'til death.
I know I'll have work,
As long as I've breath.
Our families need money.
We're the poorest of poor.
All our older brothers,
Are dead from the war.
From sunup to sunrise,
I carry my pack.
I try to walk fast,
Just in case we're attacked.
I'd complain of my plight,
But who would I tell?
All of my friends
Share the same Hell.
I've heard of a place,
Where kids get to play.
I hope from deep down,
I'll see it some day.
But likely as not,
My kids just as I,
Will carry these packs
'Til the day that we die.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
We came with wet
eyes, with teeth bright
as planets; we came like
weather, like daylight, hair
damp and skin flushed.
We came like sunup.
We woke the birds up.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
Properly or improperly...connected,
Wired...or rewired,
Banded, disbanded or not,
Augmented in a virtual reality;
The world evolves from evening to morning,
With miracles every sunup,
Brilliant minds vending awesome,
Of things never before seen,
But are these...really?
The ancients, haven't they?
Surely extraterrestrial,
Bifrost, Valhalla... Asgard?
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 7:13 PM UTC
I wait for the sun to rise—
a quiet ritual I never outgrow.
Even when my eyes ache
and my thoughts unravel,
I remain here, patient for my daylight.
The night is lonely, the dark unkind,
yet I choose to stay
until the first drop of morning touches me.
For waiting is for souls who cherish
what lies beyond the horizon
and who trust that even in an unfair world,
the light will return.
Dec 6, 2019
Dec 6, 2019 at 10:59 AM UTC
i.
I remember, when I was a much younger girl,
How my grandfather would hold a kopek in his hand
And, making it flutter slowly as if it were in flight
Would pantomime dropping it into a small sack,
Kicking a horseshoe or barrel stave against a rock
To approximate the sound of the coin hitting the sack,
Surreptitiously nudging the bottom of the canvas
To accentuate the deception.
We knew, of course, that it was mere sleight-of-hand
(Indeed, as he grew older and we less credulous,
It was fairly easy to pick up at what point
The small, tarnished piece was actually palmed),
But it was Grandfather, after all, and besides,
The invention was much more pleasant than the reality.
ii.
We were, naturally, prepared to die;
Indeed, if you wear a belt of explosives,
You prefer not to consider other outcomes.
It did not come to pass; there are, sadly, always spies,
Provocateurs who prefer pennies over principles,
And so I have come to this fortress to await my pas de deux
With the roughness of the rope and the kick of the lever.
But there shall be no death.
No death? they shall say, *Surely the gravity of your plight,
The strain of isolation has caused you to take leave of your senses*,
But I am as clear and constant
As the bells in the guard tower
Which toll on the quarter hour.
*Ah, but here is the judge,
Great eyebrows knit, jaw tight,
Reading, measured in tone and pace, from the paper
Which outlines the finality of your sentence*,
And I say it is no more than mere parchment,
His words the empty fulminations
Of an unconnected party.
But see here, Musechka, they will insinuate slyly,
*What of this image--the eyes bulging,
The face distorted and blue, the tongue blackened*,
And I respond that such a depiction,
Along with all prior inquiries and protests,
Are from without and, as such,
No concern of mine.
iii.
When, come sunup the day after tomorrow,
It is time for the law and justice
To finish going through the requisite motions,
I shall walk to the platform
Burdened with neither regret
Nor any notion of dying well
(Such thoughts are for priests, foppish cavalry officers)
And the soldiers that cut me down
Shall, I am sure, will be somewhat irritated with me
For they shall have seen I have, in a sense,
Engineered my own exit,
And that it was a trick
Which they played no part in contriving.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC