Poems about Sunrise

Lapsong souchong in hand
And writing
As the sun
Blossoms
In the full
Expanse of
The atmospheric prism
Each shade is now
Dismissed to a
Short recess
To play
On their own

And the wind
Sits still
Only an observer now
Joyfully allowing the
Lake, the colors, the writing
These undisturbed moments
Together

Clouds cast shadows
On the mountain
Sunlight peeks through
White brume
Wet grass shines
Like glass

At sunset you told me
What you were holding back
Your plans
Your dreams
How wide they stretched
Your eyes sparkled
At the road ahead

At sunrise
I found you missing

I recall
Your plans
Your dreams
The light in your eyes
Did not include me

~O' sunrise, yon orchid shimmer'd glow
I pray, heed my humble plea,
Cast your light o'er sleeping fields
A' flow of gold leaf mist
Illumined ‘pon sweet breeze whispers,
So that my love shall awaken
Amidst the splendor of
Honeycomb essence driftings
Gently caressing her face,
Warming her rose petal skin,
Lifting her parfait smile
So I too may bask in the impeccable
*beauty of this morning

In the light, he no longer calls you "baby. " He no longer thinks it's cute that you can't stop your hands from shaking. He no longer tells you it's okay to stay in bed; he starts pulling the sheets off of you, yelling "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET BETTER. " In the light, you can see the outlines of his cheeks and the way his eyes look down at you and you can tell he never really loved you. In the light, he's packing his bags and driving his car away. Things aren't as simple when the sun is shining through your window - everything is so much clearer. In the dark, you could pretend you were okay because he couldn't quite make out the frown on your face or your shaky hands or what those prescription bottles read. Now he can look at you clearly and he doesn't like what he sees.

The words float wonderfully across the open meadows of dew,
Transforming after each bounce, every green blade aiding the future tense.

Where is she?
The words sing gleefully as they play in the morning sun greeting the new,
Creating in a birds mind for the angels always have wings, their hearts immense.

We have found her!
How is she?
The words dance around her aura, admiring the warmth of the fog, the breath of two,
Imagining only a walking stick next to foot prints, compassionately using sixth sense.

Well, what do you think?
I quite like the sound of her!
Who is she?
The words visit my throat shakra, my hot blood pumps connecting, trusting in you,
Rebirthing poetic love, Meditating towards the peaceful calming lavender incense.

She reminds of someone I know, or knew...
Wow, does she remind you of tink?
We should all be together!
But will she?
The words kiss me good bye, twinkling in my blue eyes, and I bid them adieu,
Reharnessing my self worth, becoming a readied spirit warrior, taking on the intense.

At first it is only a tinge on the horizon, barely distinguishable from the stars that hang. Then it unfurls, illuminating an inch of the sky at a time. An honest yellow, fervid pinks and reddish hues all blend into the gradually brightening sky, where the lid of indigo is being removed in favour of cornflower and aquamarine. below is an abyss - the wisps of cloud capture the color and let it seep... The cloud kingdom is slowly being consumed and still more join the Frey. Deep oranges mingle with the pinks, new clouds appear and in turn, like a xylophone being played by a child, sporadic, are lit up. Soon it is all around and the only signs of nights enclosures are the few bold stars who dare to watch, the rise of the sun.

For want of a sunrise
My mind wakes so sadly
At night, when the world
Lies bright in hard clarity;
Staring, staring – and seeing
Right through me. Enough
Of silence, the wind wails and
Screams with fury. At me. Blackening -

I wait,
Gaze, while my glassy
Hope gets polished,
Catching a
Flicker
Of some lacklustre blaze

Behind me;

With ravenous greed glows
The sky; a garish smile
Glares through dancing curtains,
Dusted with sparkling
Diamonds of time, as dawn

Breaks her teeth, she glints
Without sunlight,
A gash of grey upon
The wintery haze beneath.

I should still be asleep.

Instead, the rain fills me, spills
From sudden clouds
Of bloodied red;
With nothing but burning
And stillness -
The world might be dead.