The Morning Sun

5 Comments

Tags:
  • Dreams
  • ,
  • Alone

    Poem Commentary

    This was written for the Daily Poetry Challenge...

    The Morning Sun




    The morning sun caresses’ my eyes,
    Luring me to an early rise,.
    The culprit of my dreams demise,
    Evaporating the dew which blankets my mind.
    Her crimson lipstick leaves the trace,
    An impression of her lips embrace,
    And without warning, no time to brace,
    The sun creeps in to burns my eyes.
    And I agonize, as I don my disguise
    When living in this world outside my mind
    Reality’s cruel sense of humor,
    Simply substantiates the rumor
    That in this world in which I encumber,
    I truly live within my slumber




    Poem Comments

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    dumplin commented on The Morning Sun

    04-27-2010

    I love the sunrise, especially on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. It's so beautiful. It's virtually the only thing I'd get up that early for.

    kmeadows commented on The Morning Sun

    06-22-2009

    ok so now is this all a dream? Makes me think! Very nice, well written and enjoyable. I look forward to reading more!!!

    mysticmynd commented on The Morning Sun

    06-19-2009

    This poem was precious, it has a gentle approach mixed with truth of the world

    BDIsernhagen commented on The Morning Sun

    06-10-2009

    great! well, I do have some beef... I just rattle off some stream-of-whatever... and you HAVE to come with a perfect lyrical piece to eclipse it.... lol, jk, it was great, nice to see another post from you!

    SuSpence

    06/11/2009

    Haha, Thanks for the compliment BDI, but I wouldnt say it eclipsed your piece, I really liked your poem, I love the stream of conscious style, I need to start doing more of it myself to continue opening my mind to new ideas.

    hdmac commented on The Morning Sun

    06-10-2009

    You don't have to put an apostrophe at caresses. it is not plural. Interesting poem though. The ending is strange, but acceptable.

    SuSpence

    06/10/2009

    Thanks for taking the time to comment, but a 5? I mean damn. I know it isnt Frost, but if I submitted that in a creative writing class I would expect to get a least a passing grade.

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

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