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Josh Cheshier  Feb 2017
Sunspots
Josh Cheshier Feb 2017
Sunspots,
we made eye contact, her fiery gaze was so bright all I could see were sunspots.
It started as just one but I didn't want to look away, I couldn't, and god ****** it burnt. My vision started to falter and that little speck of darkness began to grow.
Sunspots
My trance-like stare remained unbroken, I was being burnt from within
Sunspots, until one turned into ten.
I felt her heat deep beneath the surfaces of skin and as the heat rose my little sunspots became all I could see.
I was dumbfounded, lost, her radiance had blinded me.
Confused and scared I spun about to see if there were any traces of light left in the dark, Sunspots.
It wasn't long till I began to lose hope, beaten and broken with my toes dangling off the floor I hung myself and used her as the rope.
Sunspots, as my little dark circles couldn't possibly get any darker the rope snapped and my vision came too.
There on my knees I began to sob, I was so captivated I let light burn me out.
Sunspots
When I picked myself up, to my surprise I could still see her glow.
Sunspots
She had remained present through the night, hidden behind a thick shroud, unpiercable by the most furious of light.
I glanced softly, tracing the aura surrounding her, I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact even though my entire chest was pounding for her.
Sunspots
I've learned a gentle focus is key, I can bask in her radiance without her worry of burning
Sunspots
I can finally see
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
<>
The Instigation:
Edmund  Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”

I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“

<•>

both of you shush!

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not,

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there

GET THERE

get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace


the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive

call my poems,
blessedly common!

that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
and
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better



for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been
bettered





8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
Wuji Seshat Oct 2014
I

The successive suns of summers
swim in me like a balcony of heat
I glow with the sol of sols

the pine cone of lava that
makes my cheeks full, white
the sun-drop of diamonds
have petrified in my heart
and I am creation rushing down

ii

On all that is below, these stars
know me and I among them
we are like water in water

ocean creatures of great adventure
vertigoes of light, layers of softness
suns of paradise, legends of golden noons
revolutions of princely sunspots
cliff of mortality, planets revolving

iii

Around a center, galaxies revolving
around a black-hole that was once
a great sun, time has pink candle-like veins

but she knows the sun, the sparkling rocks
the matter and energy of our destinies
caught up in a seabed of lights
the successive suns of summers
swim in me like an ode to sun-religions

iv

but I am here, drinking sun-wine
in the surreal view of full eyes
with a body of silver for the kaleidoscope

and a naked face dismantled by another eclipse
another wonder, another design of day.
Matthew Harlovic Dec 2015
Since I’m too hardheaded for a gunshot,
I’ll wait for these thoughts
to fade like phases of sunspots.

© Matthew Harlovic
st64  Aug 2013
feather
st64 Aug 2013
I am . . .
the heaviest feather you won't lift
the most involved friend

I am also . . .
the easiest love you can't find


dip then, this shy feather in penumbra ink
and let sunspots permeate mistiness



S T, 17 August 2013
and I is . . . also the 12th letter of the alphabet
(gosh, I think! lol)





sub-entry: siphon


it was so stormy and windy earlier
now
deathly quiet
not a leaf moves
still air

silent tornado
slow siphon

clutching onto the roof of your sanity
whilst sliding down the tiles of mine
purchase being lost as fear sports
its chameleon-jacket

when I wake in the morn
all my reassurances
down the drain
again

where did my happy thoughts fly to?
are they caught in a branch
or trapped in my mailbox?

time to start again
build a new day
what mercy . . . to be given another day
with you :)



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-ayuRE5xd8
Hammock - I Can Almost See You
Kasey  Apr 2013
The Desert
Kasey Apr 2013
Touch my skin you ***** rascal
Touch mine and leave your mark.
Cook me with your radiance, let me feel your hands
As they run all over my exposed shoulders, waist, knees, and flip-flops.
Sunspots and freckles.
Burns and chapped lips.
Sunglasses and fenced pools
In the desert.
The cactus, the scorpion, the sun.
The dust in the air is better than oxygen.
And I sit for hours with nothing but love in my heart
For the heat that burned away the hate in my soul.
Sunspots and freckles like kisses from the sunshine
Drying me off in 2 minutes flat.
Hydrating the desert in my soul.
Bernice Helena Dec 2018
Drinking through night and day
Will never be a good play,
But it kept all thoughts of you at bay;
Your flippant, finicky, frivolous ways.

How else could I mask my dismay?
The B-side of 'Relapse'.

You told me it's over so now I'm sad when I'm sober.
Proof that,
  sun,
is singularity

Black holes...
and sunspots
are,
     "black."

So Icarus,
the first attempt,
      at
       -time-travel.
If a singularity distorts time itself who is to say when this effect of gravitational distortion begins? The sun began dying the moment it was born. Perhaps we should follow Icarus' lead?

For the Sun is a black hole...
Jonny Angel Jul 2014
The way you moved
serpentine,
wrapping yourself around me
& always giving your all.
You took me,
my granite,
to new heights
& we exploded,
hotter than a super nova.

I would crawl
a million miles
to recapture
the rapture
you once gave me
sunspots.
xmelancholix  Apr 2016
Sunspots
xmelancholix Apr 2016
sometimes people tell me that
my cheeks get red and bumpy after
my tears have dropped down them.
And sometimes it looks like the sun has kissed me in my eyes and
overpowered the darkness behind.
And sometimes it leaves freckles on my cheeks and I like them.
so I cry a little longer.
holding on to the beauty behind the salty streams and
the external effect to the internal intent of these sun tears that
freckle my cheeks.
030316
Jonny Angel Jul 2014
Kissing you
is the sweetest
galactic act.

When you do it
the way you like to do it,
the order of the entire universe
gets disrupted
& that's why
sunspots having nothing on you,
fact.
rook  Sep 2014
thirst
rook Sep 2014
my veins pump molasses

my dry heart belongs to the desert sands and i

cough

i cough up my childhood

memories scattering through the air like

d                   s

         u                      t

i have been parched since birth, since the beginning of this journey

that never ends

i measure my height in sunspots and in the time it takes to forget where i'm from

beached without an ocean

dry and cracking like the desert soil, no hope of rain and no sign

of life

empty and hot and alone

my dry heart hides behind my bleached desert bones and i

drown

in the sand
hello, welcome to the desert,

— The End —