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

Feeling Free, Being Me ( a poem)

Me.jpg

 

I’ll make no excuses

For I breathe the way I breathe

And I feel with utmost longing.

It matters not,

The way I hold my brush

Nor the way I

Paint my scene

Were it that

Everyone saw

In black and white

I shall dance beneath

The neon lights

Of summer’s spawning

Unaware –

Without a care,

Just feeling free

Being me.

I shall not

Cower in sadness

Stretching myself thin

To fit the mold

Or cry my tears

Upon shoulders

Of the bold

Who proclaim my ways

Are not artistic

Enough.

This is me

This is me

As real

As the air you breathe

And if you cannot see,

I’d rather you close your eyes

Than waste your sight on me.

 

© Sumyanna 2016

 

I know how to be nothing, but authentically me.

 

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: authentic

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Love Poems, Narrative Poetry, Poetry, Portrait Series Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Portraits Poetry Series #75: Reflections

In case you haven’t been here before, I love writing prompts – whether a list of words, one word, or even an image. With these posts, I have written poems specifically about paintings and I hope, with my words, you see the scene just as visibly in your heart and mind as if you had seen the image itself.

 

portraits-series

She stared sadly into the mirror
Counting the lines across her face
Trying to rub them free
She looked into her own eyes
And wished their color a deeper blue
Her lips more full
Her skin exuding a more youthful glow.
He watched her there,
Sitting in front of the mirror
He noticed her
And she captured his attention
But she just stared into her own reflection
And got lost in her thoughts of imperfection.
In her face, he saw generous beauty
He remembered
The beauty she carried
When he first met her
But he was also keenly aware
That her beauty grew.
In her eyes, he has witnessed oceans
He has traced the sight of clouds
In her view.
He has seen her cry, full hearted
Lamenting the loss of a stranger
He has seen her blue-eyed smile
Upon holding his first child
He has seen her love for him
Blossom, reflecting in her stare
He has known no finer lips than hers
To have brushed his unshaven face
To have kissed the head of the child he calls his own
And when she speaks – he notices
The trace of a smile
And sometimes, the nervous biting of her lips
When she is uncertain and afraid.
There is beauty there – and he holds hope in his heart
That he will be the only one to ever notice.
Yes, she has changed over the years
And the growth he sees in her own face,
He sees in his own,
But he finds her all the more beautiful
For he has loved her ever since the moment
He first witnessed her smile
And had he any choice,
He would have loved her long before.

© Sumyanna 2017

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Nature Photography, Nature Poems, Photography, Poetry, Uncategorized

Still Beauty to be Found, a poem

Outdoors

 

I stand at water’s edge

searching

for the welcoming sounds

of nature

the open-arm embrace

of vibrant sun

the unforgettable smell

of fertile earth and fir

It stirs within me

feelings of hope

feelings of home

and a song beneath my chest

starts to hum its melodic tune.

This is how I revive

I am reborn

each moment

I learn to stand still

to listen

to celebrate the waves

the sunsets

the cloudy skies

and the very earth

beneath my feet.

Away from the madness

of the world,

I am reassured

there is still beauty

to be found

in me

in others

and in the gifts

so often overlooked.

Inhale

Exhale

this is life’s lesson

in every aching inch

that goes unnoticed.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Uncategorized, Word Prompt

Like Two Passing Ships in the Night, a poem

Refusetosee
I hate
how we
keep meeting like this.
Words upon the page
between us,
stilted breaths
and barely an ounce
of your essence
is present.
Perhaps,
you shall sigh
across the page,
your thoughts –
meandering.
A bit of glinting tinfoil
shaken by the wind
outside your door
demands attention
perhaps a nearby bluebird
sings
or is it the rumbling
of a garbage truck
down your street
crushing pebbles to dust
and sending
giant plumes of earth
into the air
as you trace the arc
of their projection.
You sigh,
you turn the page
and you wonder
what’s on the television.
It’s been a while,
and we have not spoken
no gentle handshake
or a nod hello,
no faint gesture
to recognize our passing.
Sadly,
we have become
two distant shadows
traipsing in the wilderness
of our own thoughts,
we no longer recognize
each other’s skin
and while one of us
is whispering,
the other
is covering their ears.

(c) Sumyanna 2017

 

Submitted for the Daily Post Prompt: present

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Narrative Poetry, Poetry, Portrait Series Poetry

Portraits Poetry Series #70: The Absence of Relevance

In case you haven’t been here before, I love writing prompts – whether a list of words, one word, or even an image. With these posts, I have written poems specifically about paintings and I hope, with my words, you see the scene just as visibly in your heart and mind as if you had seen the image itself.

portraits-series

 

The young child
Drew her coat closer
To shield against the cold
Fingers numb and aching
She moved slowly
Through the boulevards
To stay warm.
The sky was grey then
And everything
Was covered in white
Dusted on rooftops
And piled on the sidewalks.
It slushed beneath her feet
Barely clad in shoes
Too small for her feet
And she shivered in the cold
But she was used to its chill.
No matter her situation,
She looked at the scene
With promise
Her eyes filled with wonder
Her heart filled with hope
This is true beauty
Her heart whispered
And she listened intently
She heard the children
Playing in the streets
Their voices singing out
In laughter
She heard the dull metal drag
Of shovels
Clearing the sidewalks
It was a story
Unfolding before her eyes
And one, while unknown to her
Filled her dreams –
The thought of belonging
Where you stand
And the promise
Of warmth near the fire
After enjoying the cold
The enjoyment
Of family and friends
The certainty
Of where you lay your head
This was what she hoped for
Not toys –
Not luxury –
But connection.
She held her coat
Close to her throat
In hopes to shield herself
From the cold –
Not from the airy wind
Or the new fallen snow
But the absence of relevance.

© Sumyanna 2016

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems

When Freedom is Lost, a poem

LostFreedom

 

 

Freedom slips

through open fingertips

like waving fields of grain.

We have learned

to disperse them

and set them out

upon the open sea.

While some,

we neglect

others befall our definition

through purse’d lips

and a furled brow

of seething anger

that no longer seems

to ever sleep.

How can we reach

for the essence

of freedom?

How can we desire

the nation

to rally behind our call

our hands outstretched

in longing

like loyal subjects

when we only define

our own desires as free

while the wants and needs of others

deserve not, equal expression.

This nation stands strong

on the freedoms

expressly given

for it flows within the veins

and though dissenting voice

may sometimes appear,

our strength comes

not in silencing the noise,

but ensuring every peaceful opinion

is given a chance to speak.

For when

the song of liberty

is no longer sung,

we, ourselves,

shall no longer be free.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: loyal

 

Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

If Only My Words Were Enough, a poem

enough

 

I wish my words
could wash over you
like tender raindrops
You –
a dry parched land
outstretched in longing
for I know there is need
out there –
even more than I
may ever witness.
I wish my words
were enough
to calm the storm
to straighten the ways
that people speak
the ways
that people seek
to pile their riches high
their hearts, filled with dust
from years of neglect.

Were my words enough –
I would cry them out
voice shaking
eyes filled with tears
Were my words enough –
I would sing them
loud and clear
each vowel
each consonant
enunciated
for their significance
and I write
and I write
and as I write
I worry
that words
are never enough.

(c) Sumyanna 2017

 

Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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

Cloaked in My Madness, with Hopes of Reform

crazy (2)

 

 

Dress me in my madness

let me wear it like a cloak

or like a second-skin

let me wear it

close

to

my

heart

this madness,

where many

do not dwell

for they fear,

they fear –

to feel too much

to care

to care

to make amends

to grow

to learn

to strive

to help others thrive

I am bathed

in this madness

all my days and nights

and I writhe in its beauty

where hopes reach

across the span of time

I have a dream

I have a dream

Yes, you are not alone

and the only way

that dreams come true

is when you do something

about them.

 

(c) Sumyanna 2016

 

Inspired by a quote that stated that caring was akin to madness.  I’d rather be crazy than its opposite.

 

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: cloaked

 

 

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Nature Poems, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Word Prompt

We Are Lost and We Just Don’t Know It, a poem

Storm
We are lost and
We just don’t know it
We cry out in the dark of night
Yet hear no other sound
And we fail to see there’s light
In the moon and the stars
To guide us gently home.

We are lost and
We just don’t know it
For mighty men, we stand real tall
And notice not the souls of others
Stamped beneath our feet
But this is progress, we cry
And some obstacles must be overcome.

We are lost and
We just don’t know it
Our sins are veiled beneath fake smiles
And we buy and we sell
Our souls last glories
At bargain basement price
On our pedestals we shine, unaware.

We are lost and
We just don’t know it
You can hear it in the cries
Of unloved child – abused
He lives his life in fear
Just how many of them
Are near?
And we fail to hear their tears

You can hear it
In the sorrows of the old
They are thrown aside
And though their views
Should make them wise
Silent, in homes
They now live their lives
Surrounded by strangers,
They’ve lost their pride
And we fail to hear their tears

You can see it
In the soul of the earth
No respect for beauty or life
Torn open, drained and polluted
The earth’s existence
Is filled with strife
We cry for rain,
For storms reprieve
And we fail to see
What our hands achieve
And we fail to see or hear
By our own deeds, the end is near

We are lost and
We just don’t know it.

© Sumyanna 2015

 

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: overcome

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Tell the Immigrants We’re Sorry, a poem

ImmigrantSorry

 

They travelled

Hundreds of miles

To get here

Their world’s belongings

Strung across their backs

Sometimes they’d carry

A child

Or someone too weak –

The dust would barely

Settle beneath their feat

And they would carry on.

They carried hope

With every step

No matter how hard

The path may have seemed

They cried

They struggled

But they kept moving.

It is a tale

As old as time itself,

People seeking

A better way

A path lain with promise

Sanctuary

Freedom

And a chance to earn

What their hands sow.

No one

Truly understands their struggle

For many have never

Stepped in their shoes

Many, fear not

The soldiers on their beat

Nor an intolerant eye

the pangs of hunger

or an uninhabitable home.

While they lose their identity

Slink in the shadows

And are reduced to dusk

Their dreams,

A forgotten folly

But truth of the matter

Stings

Way beyond their wounds.

They are displaced

They are the unacknowledged whisper

Good enough to hire

for a penny

But not good enough

To hire for a dime

And we question

Their sacrifice,

Their loyalty,

And we question

Their worth

While we sit on

Tufted couches

Built on the blood and tears

Of those we have conquered

Those we have yet to acknowledge

And send them tearfully home

For they are

The unwanted stench

Of need and longing

Our ancestors once knew

But we have forgotten.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Photo courtesy of Pixabay.com