Best Poems About / On SUN
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117.
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From Dawn To Dusk
The tenebrous tiring tipsy night strutted away,
As the sun tarried to commence its dynamic day.
A bluish beam lingered in the air,
But something amidst the bluish beam,
Let out farrago fervour of euphoria.
The sun rose up like an incensed inferno.
The first scarlet rays opened the beautiful buds,
And the rest that shadowed opened my eyes.
The sun raised in the cerulean skilful sky.
And feathered friends flitted high.
Clouds, as if a featherbed,
With scarlet outlines of the sun's rays.
Wrapped up in ethereal liberal light,
The stars in deep dry slumber.
The town's all yellow and ablaze,
After the dismal discordant night.
The sun's all up, barbarous like a ferocious fire.
And since morn, it's gone up higher.
The tree's considerate canopy is a parasol,
But the daylight reflects its hazy hue.
Everything and anything, everyone and anyone,
Is scorched and sweltered!
Felt as though the powers above are in wrath,
Uttering curses through this waspish warmth.
The Sun departed and the ambience changed,
The Sun and stars rearranged.
The Sun sparked off to set now,
Downwards and downwards, seemed like a yellow bowl.
The bluish beam lingered again and awaken were the stars.
The divinity has considerably calmed down, for the waspish warmth decreases!
Awaken like the stars, was the town from siesta!
The Sun had now gone black.
The brightness seems to lack.
Twinkling were the stars,
And the bluish beam from the mesmerising moon.
The day's over and yet the Sun will approach,
To convey another dynamic day.
The moon makes dark, contrary to the Sun.
The buds close and so do some eyes, the town's all lighted now.
The tenebrous tiring tipsy night strutted away,
As the sun tarried to commence its dynamic day.
The sun raised in the cerulean skilful sky,
And feathered friends flitted high.
The Sun's all up, barbarous like a ferocious fire,
And since morn, it's gone up higher.
The Sun departed and the ambience changed,
The Sun and stars rearranged.
The Sun had now gone black,
The brightness seems to lack.
This is how the day lumbers, after night the day the night.
From Dawn to Dusk!
Devanshi Khetarpal
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118.
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The Sun, The Wind
Each poem is perfect,
Yet each is imperfect.
For poetry is like the wind.
Can you tell wind to blow?
Each poem is like the sun.
Can you tell sun to shine?
Yet when it makes hot,
We wish the sun to set
And the winds to increase,
But who are we to command
The sun, or the wind?
And when winds cause havoc
We wish them to subside,
And when winter is harsh
We wish the sun to bloom,
But each remains like a seed
Blossoming it their time.
Yet the sun is perfect,
And the wind is perfect,
For nothing can we add
Or take from the either.
Poetry is like the wind,
Poetry is like the sun.
Copyright ©2010 Leslie Alexis
Leslie Alexis
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119.
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Mercury
I want to be Mercury
To be close to the Sun
To feel the Sun's warmth
More than anyone
I want to be mercury
Rising with more Sun's heat
To peak at the top
That none could defeat
Don't want to be Pluto
Icy and cold
Far from the Sun
Not a real planet I'm told
I want to be Pluto
To be very last
'The last will be first'
Sun said in the past
I want to be Mercury
Not just being in front
It's the warmth from the Sun;
That's what I want
I want his great warmth
You really can't see?
The Sun's great warmth
Is His love for me
Sam Hoover
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120.
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Car Sun Visors (Fun Poem 65)
Every morning I have to drive towards the sun
just as the sun is about to rise.
You pull down the car sun visor,
but it is always too short
and the sun gets in your eyes.
You cannot see the road ahead,
just yellow blobs before your eyes.
You keep blinking until they fade away.
One day I wish car manufactures
would road test their cars in the morning sun.
They then might make
the car sun visors a little larger
to stop the sun getting in your eyes.
11 February 2008
David Harris
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