Poems about morning



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№ 1210535

Good morning

Anxiety is - waking up for work and being paralyzed in bed for 45 minutes by nausea, tightness in my chest and an oncoming panic attack. Once I can move, I'm late for work, so I ask to come in late. I lay in bed, sick, scared and writing poetry - hoping for something to save me.


good,  morning.

Author: Robyn
+0-
Date: 07/04/2020


№ 1210392

IT'S EASTER MORNING...

It's Easter morning
I can hear my kids say...

Whose going to find
All the eggs today...

Did he hide them outside
Behind a tree...

Under a branch
Just waiting for me...

Or inside when
We were asleep...

He was mighty quiet
I didn't hear a peep...

Check behind the flowers
On the TV...

He usually leaves one
There for me...

Yes, the bunny was busy
He had quite a load...

How does he do it?
It's Magic I'm told...

By ~ Judy


easter,  morning.

Author: Judypatooote
+0-
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210092

Everything I Should Tell You Each Morning

There are days
When I can still feel the agonizing ache
In its accelerated beats
As your image reveals itself
Behind my lids,
When I think the threads
Of those stitches I sewed
Four years ago
(has it really been that long? )
Haven't yet dissolved
And are keeping me closed,
And when I can feel your breath
Against my cheek
And eventually my rhythm
Keeping time with yours.
But these words are not
Unfamiliar to the pages that I bleed onto
Every time I briefly feel broken again.
So, this is a letter to the last person
Who broke my heart:
Not you,
But myself.

To this day
I don't recognize the eyes that stare back at me
Every morning when I rise to soft beams of light
That creep their way through the holes in my blinds
As I make my way down the hall
To look into the reflection in the bathroom mirror.
You see,
Sometimes
When someone tears you apart repeatedly,
You just start to view them differently.
There are times
When all I want to do
Is reach into that image
And clasp my hands so tightly around her throat
Until her skin grows blue
But her fight grows red,
And if she would listen to me,
I would tell her to quit sprinting
From anything that makes her feel,
Because every time I hear her feet press the ground,
Every time her leg muscles bulge in flight,
I can also hear a glass heart shattering
Against her thoracic cavity,
But I still feel nothing.

Let me raise a glass to finding the solution.
Take a sip.
Swirl it in your mouth.
Feel its bitter taste against your tongue
Until you unlock the door
To the invisible brick wall
In front of you.
Let someone else break your heart for a change.


morning.

Author: Kairee F
+0-
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1210083

Good Morning

The sun cracks the atmosphere with the utmost roar which makes you ask yourself whats in store for today being that way brings less decay and obstacles along the way in a new day. Beams of light going through the shades as your favorite dream fades and you're left with emblematic scenarios and no choice but to take care of those. In everyday there are the highest and lowest points but those are the moments that are cherished most. Morning is time to start the day and prepare for your destiny and making the best of it is important because 24 hours isn't an eternity


good,  morning.

Author: Malcolm Smith
+0-
Date: 07/04/2020


№ 1209976

Sunny morning

You were just a small bump
Before you stole my heart away,
Little fingers wrapped around my finger Your so little but your love has my flying
Your like Saturday's
And I'm like Sunday morning
Your All I need.

Myriah young


morning,  sunny.

Author: Myriah
+0-
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1209852

My Ten O'clock Morning Pass ...

Madrigals of March
Echo throughout the Port lake backcountry
With river dancer vibrations, lapping waters,
Sashaying marsh grass along her fertile shore
Uplands of live oak, elm, birch and sycamore
Shadows of raptors and herons alight brown pasture in
Evening performances, evergreen seedlings helicopter
Into the unknown, bass note bullfrogs, light breezes
Chaperone a gaggle of redwing blackbirds bound for
Sweet home*...


clock,  morning,  pass,  ten.

Author: Randolph L Wilson
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020


№ 1209850

Easy, like sunday morning.

I spend my sundays waiting for the sun to reach the edge of my sagging roof porch and
In the sprawling moments in which i wait i flip through pages which tell me of my destiny
And i try to figure out why the fuck i care about a future that i may never know,
But good god do i care.

These words swim in front of me like creatures in an effervescent pool, glowing green,
Because of some strange algae scum that sticks to them and their surroundings,
Forever catching my eye and interest, though they will never leave the pool, or in this case,
The pages on which they lie.

I analyze each past moment in contingency with each morsel of advice this book has to offer
And i wonder how many times i've already fucked up on my karmic path,
But somehow i find comfort in the small intricacies that weave within my own existence,
Time passed in the way the book spells it out.

I start to wonder if this is any different than witch craft, or religion,
And i find myself faced with another question, what exactly do i believe in?
Suddenly i realize that the purpose of this book isn't to give me answers, it's to make me ask questions,
And that's when i slam it shut.

I'm sick of answering questions and wondering who i am, like i'm some fucking hero from an epic,
Plus the sun's starting to warm the dark roof that scrapes my bare feet when i pace back and forth,
And the only thing that makes sense right now is going outside and
Lighting my last god damn cigarette.


easy,  morning,  sunday.

Author: Quinn
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020

№ 1209823

You dance upon the morning sky

Gently breezing
By my face
You dance upon
The morning sky,

Intricately,
Patterned lace,
I watch
As it just passes by,

But he is just
So beautiful,
He entrances
Every eye,

A lovely little
Floating wisp
In the form
Of butterfly,

On the air
So clean an crisp,
I wave a hand
But no goodbye

An not a single grieving tear
Not a tear for me to cry,

As I know
I will definitely
See you again
One day.

Ma Cherie © 2017


dance,  morning,  sky.

Author: Ma Cherie
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020

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