Tag Archives: Sun

Those Days

Ever have those days when,
you don’t want to move,
you just need a hug.

Ever have those days when,
you want to be alone,
you need to coupe.

Those days will end when,
you light the candle,
you find the hidden sun.

Those days will turn into
love, hope, and happier days.


I have those days when I don’t want to move or when I’m down right exhausted. Its sometimes challenging to get work done in a timely manner. You’ve just got to remember that they don’t last forever. A good thing to keep in mind was best said, “Don’t strive for progress, not perfection.” -Unkown

Eclipse

Heads turned up
towards that star,
that shines so bright.

Chitter chatter dies,
as darkness settles
throughout the land.

That star was hidden
ever so briefly behind
a tiny rock.

Featured Image.


August 21, 2017 there was a total solar eclipse here in the United States, the first in 38 years. Now writing about the eclipse has me thinking about how ‘special’ the eclipse is. Each sunny day as we walk outside our bodies block the sun for a brief moment, much like the solar eclipse. The difference is the size of the shadow. Anyways I’m glad I got to cherish that sweet moment of totality.

Garbage

Beeline branches clutch the stem left mute.
Ringlets dress Auburn leaves,
the asphalt burns my sweaty roots.

Heavy rusted winds dilute,
untrimmed trails push aside to deceive,
beeline branches clutch, the stem left mute.

Birds nestle, bunnies substitute
tender holes flutter as I disbelieve,
the asphalt burns my sweaty roots.

Ringlets leak quondam bruit
rugged shells hollowed which misconceives
beeline branches clutch, the stem left mute.

Shift through the hollow bark boots
pushing harder while droplets relieve
the asphalt burns my sweaty roots.

Sun basking amongst as leaves commutes
trusted lines break lunging to achieve.
Beeline branches clutch, the stem left mute.
The asphalt burns my sweaty roots.


I wrote this a year ago. I haven’t read it since I read it aloud in my poetry course. My professor wanted all the poems to have a title, I thought this poem was too forced, thus it being called ‘Garbage’.

New Season

Brown turns to shades
of light and dark green.

What once was bare
now hides behind
green and yellow.

Small flowers sprout
from a the once
frozen ground.

Birds are chirping,
animals stretch their legs.

What once was
grey and gloomy,
now is full of
blue and white.

Sunshine warms the skin
welcoming us to a new season.