Posted in Poetry, Thoughtful Poems

I Remember Big Wheel Mornings


I remember
big wheel mornings
I’d wear a turtleneck with overalls
unlaced shoes
and I’d race down the street
chasing the shadows
gently cast by the sun.
I can still smell
the scent of trees
their leaves looming over
the concrete pathways.
I would hold my head back
and sing with joy
perhaps even, squeal with glee.
Not long after,
other voices would share the same tune.
Perhaps we’d all play
follow the leader
pretend someone is a crossing guard
or direct our own schoolyard parade.
There was never enough time
to exhaust our imagination
all of us racing –
and big wheels galore
until all the streetlights signaled
it was time to go home.
One last quick race
back to my driveway,
I’d always return home
wind playing tag
with my head full of curls
wearing overalls,
now with grass-stained knees
and a fabulous grin.

© Sumyanna 2017


Written for the prompt: write about your favorite vehicle

Beautiful image courtesy of

Posted in Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Be Yourself & Broken Promises, a poem

FontCandy (13)


fills my veins
my alabaster skin
traces the lonely paths
and colorless promises spoken.
What is it –
that threatens them so?
For me to wear
my own beauty well
to be unafraid
to free my soul
to breathe with open arms
and they strive to change me
they strive to detain me
box me in
and color their own definitions
upon my unusual skin.
Freedom speaks here
in silent mocking whispers
be yourself –
be yourself –
as long as you’re like me.


© Sumyanna 2017


Beautiful image courtesy of

Posted in Narrative Poetry, Poetry, Portrait Series Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Portraits Poetry Series #50: Rolling Hills of Flowering Beauty

Portraits Series

She raises the child to her hip
Baby’s feet gently sway
As she walks
Through fields of wildflowers
The scent intoxicates
Rolling hills of flowering beauty
Waves of pink, yellow and green
The soothing sway of the wind
Begs the heart to swoon
The woman and child
Are laughing
Taking in the sun
The mother,
Sun bonnet on her head
Gazes at the passing clouds
Skittering across the sky
The outlined grey smudges
Amidst puffs of white
And deep blue fields of sky
It is wondrous and healing
Where nature meets the heart
The soul’s whisper
And peaceful thoughts
Cannot help but linger here.
And the woman and child
Gently walk toward the horizon
The child clings lovingly
You can see her smile
In the way she holds her head
But you cannot see her face
And mother’s head is bowed
To trace her gentle steps
Graceful brush of skirt
Across the grasses
And she spies a beauty
One after another
A gasp, a sigh –
She is enthralled by the scene.
She holds their memories
Close to her heart
She breathes their scent
She paints their gentle sway
Within her dreams
She walks, and slowly –
She fades into the distance
But a footprint
Across the landscape now
But she has left her trace
In the smiles and laughter
Shared beneath the noonday sun
And she has taken a trace
Just the same.

© Sumyanna 2016

Posted in Inspirational Poems, Nature Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Star Swept, a poem



A sunset

is a sunset

rising over the horizon.

Pink edges, purple clouds

smudged across the skyline

but I –

I ache to be

the setting sun

to be the warmth, the glow

the beauty streaked

the colors, deep with meaning.

I want to stretch my hand

touch the stars on a summer’s evening

and sleep within the depths of darkness,

where my dreams become the stars

lighting the path of wandering souls.

I want to be the shadows,

where hidden figures seek solace

where they seek sleep

beneath the light of a full moon.

They smile as they rest

they toss and turn

and I too, across the sky

nap gently, as the stars sway

beneath the weight of a gentle wind.


© Sumyanna 2017




Posted in Narrative Poetry, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Portrait Series Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Portraits Poetry Series #49: Lament of Homeless Mother

Portraits Series


Poor mother

hugs her child close

baby’s head lays on her chest

and his breath falls gently

on her neck.

Mother winces

in recognition of her situation

for they stand in the cold,

no blanket to protect him.

She holds him close

to give him warmth

and she hopes for mercy

from passersby –

hand outstretched.

Her other son, still young

hides behind her skirt

shy and pained

perhaps, ashamed

for Daddy left them

not long ago

and they have to fend

for themselves.

Mother’s skirt in tatters

much like the depths of her heart

and her eyes shelter tears

that she holds back.

She struggles to stand tall,

but inside she cries

where no one else can notice.

She hopes for mercy

from passersby –

hand outstretched

and they look on –

as if they cannot see.

It takes all her courage

to stand on the corner in the cold,

holding what she cherishes most

for all the world to witness.

She feigns a smile

at each car that passes,

despite the pain

and speaks to her children

of hope

she tries to weave them


but inside she dies,

every time she holds out her hand.


(c) Sumyanna 2017

Posted in Love Poems, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

You, My Children, Are the Reason I Sing



I don’t feel

the need

to write poetry

in all of my moments,

for I find the poetry

in the curve of your smile,

in the silkiness of your song

on lazy afternoons,

in barefoot dancing

while washing the dishes,

and in kissing your forehead

as you drift off to sleep.

Words cannot speak

the wonder with which

I seek your thoughts

and the hidden glances

I remember to steal

watching you grow.

Yes, I am a poet –

my greatest desire

to trace the ways

that I find beauty,

but some

of the greatest wonders

desire not words,

they only require to sing

and be heard.

Your presence

lends meaning to my days

and having you in my life –

I am truly blessed

beyond my dreams.

I shall watch you sing

And hum along.


© Sumyanna 2017


Beautiful image courtesy of

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Inspirational Poems, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Is it Lost in Translation? The Writer asks the Reader.



I hear my voice
when I read
when I write
words traipsing slowly
across my tongue
and settling in my mind
and I wonder – can you hear it
or is it lost in translation?
Can you hear the drawl
or the stilted expression
the gasp of breath
at the beginning
the slow exhale
at the end of the phrase
do you understand
the language of my heart?
Does the pen carry it along
suspended mid-air
and you reach, as if to touch –
and I wonder – can you hear it?
the sound of my voice –
or is it all lost in translation?
For no matter when
the words may flow
I hear them all the same
before, during, and after
they are written
I hear my voice
I hear my voice
and I don’t know why,
but I wonder – can you hear it
or is it all lost in translation?


(c) Sumyanna 2016

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: translate

Gorgeous image courtesy of


Posted in Nature Poems, Thoughtful Poems

Beauty Stretching Forth in All Her Glory, a poem



In the Spring, there is growth

a quiet rustling under the earth

shaking free the last vestiges of dust

and breaking free.

The rains come

and quench the thirst of many

leaping vines, leaning trees, flowers splayed

rebirth begins her solemn song

a hope for each day’s beauty.

In time, the long days of summer fade

and the wind whistles her sad tune

it is time for change

and in their leaving, they leave behind

grace and beauty in their final steps

a showering dance of red and gold

flowing on the winds

and final rest.

Snow blows in across the

meadows, valleys, and mountain peaks

you can hear the sorrowful search of the wind

Where is beauty? Where does she lay her head?

and winter knows not – there is beauty also in

the absence of flowers, naked trees, the absence of sun.

There is beauty in the stillness of a winter’s day

in the absence of footsteps across the stretching sprawl of snow

in the silent plodding of snowflakes, hung on fir and pine

and their eventual release

the springing back of branch in loss

and in the way the sun shines across the fields and meadows

and its reflected glow.

There is definite beauty

in the changing seasons

the differing views

where beauty stretches forth

in all her glory.


© Sumyanna 2016

Posted in Inspirational Poems, Poetry

Soul Song, a poem




Can you hear it?

It’s in the words

between the lines,

barely uttered.

It is there

rising from the page

full of meaning

crying out –

both reader and writer,


but it is there.

It is in the rising melody

of hope

spun within a song

often overtaken,


by all the noise

but later, you notice

it repeats, it echoes

and your heart finally deciphers

the phrased lines

and remembers its meaning.

Shadows may have

grow long over your heart

but now, aware –

you rise and sing.

And as you are singing,

the sound becomes

the words to your own story.


(c) Sumyanna 2017

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Inspirational Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

Beautifully Different, a poem



She expected

a lukewarm reception.

Perhaps even,

glances in the other direction

biding the moments

before the exhale of freedom

Yes!  She has finally left.

For she felt this,

in her conversations

yet she never understood

the reasons behind the truths.

She felt every exhausted breath

slowly inhaled and painfully exhaled

when in their presence.

It is enough – to not be accepted

to know that she somehow

has always refused to fit the mold

and it is not always,

that she chose –

but that she had no other choice

this is the way her heart breathes.

Despite their indifference,

she seeks commonality

a bond with which to hold.

She seeks to find the beauty in their ways,

despite being different from her own

and she tries

and she struggles

to let them see,

there’s nothing to fear,

in distinctive beauty.

For everywhere we see,

stretched forth across our great lands

differing views of beautiful landscape

as though the painter chose

different hues, different tones,

and differing shades of meaning.

Look at the sky, whose glorious beauty

welcomes us all hours of the day

and yet, each sky – differs in the way

it is scraped across the horizon

and what of the plants, the animals, the seasons

do you not see, how their beauty is etched?

It is strange how,

this is where beauty is realized

in the ways that life surrounds us

in the splendor of her different ways

yet when we look at each other,

we starve to find any benefit

in difference.


Image and poem:  © Sumyanna 2017


Written for The Daily Post Prompt: lukewarm


I could not help but share some love for the following post, written for the same prompt.  I smile in recognition…

Solitude and Tea for ME?