"sunspots" poems
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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
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
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.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
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
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 2:46 AM UTC
Proof that,
sun,
is singularity
Black holes...
and sunspots
are,
"black."
So Icarus,
the first attempt,
at
-time-travel.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
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
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
A mountain
A shark fin
A hang-man
A seven
Candelabra
Insects
Test tubes
Disease
Full moon
Candelabra
Umbrella
Whipping cane
Crook
Herder
Candelabra
Alpha
Elves
Pretty Alps
Hollow
Candelabra
Light bulb
Reptile
Annulus
Coil
Candelabra
A skirt
A birth
A girth
A first
Candelabra
Sunspots
Patterns
Blinded
Heaven
Candelabra
Spider
Structure
Front door
Glass fracture
Candelabra
Animals
Aliens
Threatening
Harmless
Candelabra
Money
Dead leaves
Decay
Potpourri
Candelabra
Peace
Horns
Antennas
***********
Candelabra
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 7:02 PM UTC
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.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
She sat astride the stool in silence
Watching how the mayflies flew,
Symmetry in chaos painting
Colour’s gentle strokes anew.
Felt the touch of evening breezes
catch the tendrils of her hair
Watching mayflies rise and fall
through symmetry, without a care.
Promise fills the moment’s magic
Hope is pounding through her breast,
Mayflies rise and fall in sunlight
Love’s anticipation best.
Scattered light intrudes through leafage
Casting sunspots in the shade,
Mayflies rise and fall in sunshine
Tranquil peace of mind is made.
Softly a guitar is strumming
Melding with the lakeside air,
Rendezvous with him a-coming
Mayflies rise to empty chair.
Mayflies rise and fall in sunshine
Rise and fall...and they don’t care.
Marshalg
‘Foxglove’ Taranaki
3 January 2013
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
There, in the light of a summer, long gone, lie shadows of laughter, remnants of love.
There in the dust rings, echos of recall, sunspots flaunt blue yonder above .
Recalling eyes that wept for the fun of it, cried with the tragedy,. Teardrops of crave
Surges of memory washing in wavelets cleansing, scarring, riding the wave.
Oh for that feeling of splendid simplicity running in sand at the surge of the tide
No place to be, no timetable proffered, freedom on little boys giant slippery slide.
Ice creams, apricots, luscious and juicy frolic with maiden’s free blonde, tousled hair,
Frothy short petticoats bounce in the sunshine, youth without traces of worry or care.
Breathless in nights of gathereing twilight, breathless falls this magical air,
Wondrous in such lilting beauty, soft hanging tones of Autumn fair.
There in the light of summer gone, shadows of laughter, remnants of love,
Memories flood to overflowing, indigo glints the starlight above.
M.
The Satins of Autumn Approacheth…
February 21 2019
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC
The peace in this seclusion
Of a tranquil park in green,
With stately trees of ancient years
And walkways in between
There's deep shade under foliage
With sunspots everywhere,
And a velvet sense of peacefulness
Pervading in the air.
But:
Should you step beyond the green grass,
Should you venture onto seal,
An abrupt and harsh transition
Manifests, as quite unreal!
There's a cacophony of engine noise,
The headlong rush of cars,
A kaleidoskope of steel and glass
And frantic men from Mars!
The grind of wasted hours
With inertia breeding dread
And putting up with maniac's
Ignoring stop lights turning red.
There's a quagmire of congestion here
A head ache for the Tsar's
And for myriads of people
Who queue daily in their cars.
There's a White Knight in the future,
There's salvation in the air
For the God's of your deliverance
Will relieve you of despair.
They will forge a mighty tunnel
Deep beneath the grassy park
And divert congested traffic
Out beyond congestion's arc.
Melding with the motorway
To make breathing space for all,
The Victoria Park Alliance
Guarantees their clarion call.
Energetic men and women
Who are planning round the clock,
Engineers and excavator's slave
To work without a stop.
Concrete slab and steel amass
To build the tunnel strong
And sleek attenuators
Keep the traffic flowing on.
Salvation in the form
Of a tunnel underground
Beneath the spreading boughs
Of an oak in green surround,
Beneath the peaceful turf
Of a verdant park as planned,
Found amidst the million souls
Of Auckland, New Zealand.
Marshalg
@theCoalface
Auckland City
New Zealand
6 November 2009
www.worthyofpublishing
Nov 5, 2009
Nov 5, 2009 at 9:59 PM UTC
*Death drives fast in stolen car
Pursued en mass by cops afar
Down motorway of he and she
Who drive in innocence, legally.
Colliding in cascading mess
Of debris, dust and huge distress.
Face down upon the tarmac now
Handcuffed with glock at bleeding brow.*
Whilst winding through a country glade
An opulence of deep, green shade,
A confluence of peace and quiet
Where nature’s art, in beauty, riot,
Where squirrels dart and rabbits munch
In turquoise grasses, lush, for lunch,
And sunspots sparkle in the shade
This place where poetry is made.
*Juxtaposed, the concrete hash
Where ranting politician’s clash,
Where each, determined to be right
Adopts inflexibility's fight,
To hold to ransom common sense
Whilst seated stoically on the fence,
Committing all to farce and pain
Whilst pointing to another’s blame.*
White waves wash the pristine sand
Where in Bermuda shorts, I stand,
Soaking up the tropic sun
In holiday, now just begun,
Far out I see a distant sail
Which tells a fascinating tale
Of opalescent crystal seas
Caressed by mystic scented breeze.
*Juxtaposed, is terrors threat
Caste worldwide through Islam’s net,
Despite the protestations made
By Clerics, genuine, dismayed,
Permeated far and wide
Through violent death’s perverted pride.
Causing misery obscene
Whilst rinsing hands in blood till clean.*
Hark, a lark on yonder hill
It’s song, so clear, enduring till
It ends in silence… so pristine,
That tears stream down my face, so lean
And gaunt, so filled with joy am I
With gift of lark song sung to sky,
A gift, so sweet and clean and pure
If juxtaposed, it will endure.
Marshalg
Portraiture of my yin & yan in this day.
4 October 2013
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
of all the galaxies in this vast universe
i am glad to know his
his words are auroras
eluminating my thoughts
and when he breathes out i love yous
yeses, please, or my name
it is my zodiacal light
what lulls me to sleep at night
and wakes me in the morning
i know his umbra and his penumbra
his ins and his outs
his sweet-talk, sunspots
his full-moon eyes,
though brazen with faculae
are all i wish to
look into
every moment
of my life
i know the valles of his body
the crevices running through his chest
his heart a flare
his kiss a bolide
our love is cosmic
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
Along I strolled a country path
spread with leaves of happy shade,
sunspots sprinkled on the turf,
insects humming in the glade.
Towering gumtrees soar aloft
running mauve to whitish tan,
strips of bark hang limply downward
richly capped with leafy crown.
The great bowl squats, it’s fan of
massive roots inumerable.
The leaves are wet
and silver sunlight sparks from sheen to sheen,
dazzling those who care to notice
moss so green,
and lacelike in it’s tiny brittle intricacy
Sunlight stirs the breeze to eddy
swirls of leaves in turn do bring
the brown eyed blackbird out to sing
his lilting challenge;
blue crisp air.
Delightful is the word I choose
to announce my sentiments,
nature in late summer gown,
drab winter in disgust
relents another day with thunderous frown.
Marshalg
Ferntree Gully
26th March 1969
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 12:52 PM UTC
King Tut's necklace missing;
They're hunting high and low,
And Obama's nose is growing
Just like Pinocchio's.
And the Ben Bernanke is sensitive,
For he feels misunderstood,
Cause all the paper he's printing
Is really just a bunch of wood.
And there's lots that's going on
But I find it hard to care;
King Tut he died eons ago,
And there's something in the air:
For the birds keep falling dead,
And Yellowstone's waking up,
The sun has no more sunspots,
And the North Pole’s moving up.
The Gulf current dead or dying,
The Middle East flying apart;
I wish I had a magic carpet
To escape from all this dark.
The fish dying in their schools,
The gas is scarce or gone;
The power plants are idling
Just when the chill is on.
Is there something I've forgotten,
On my list of things to dread-
Oh yes, I've ordered poison
Cause I'm better off just dead.
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 8:55 AM UTC
Born at the age of sixteen
To again experience the cusp of noon sun
At the bottom of orangeade syrup
Indelible on your tongue, permanent
In a mid-summer twilight
At the touch of sweat skin and wet ears
On maple arms and black foot night
Singing to the will o’ the wisp
(Leather bound a thought
They will read it, perhaps pay
And take pleasure in your hymn
As verse of summer knows the animus
Which lightens the load of e’ryone)
Ineffable are his hands on terra cotta walls
A hot whisper in the ear and cotton lips
Which press the skin on beachy nocturne
To the ocean, the unforgiving expanse
That vomits all my woes
Which I throw back into it
To again experience the cusp of heat
And boiling blood and salty extravagance
The emotion at an apogee
That makes the world a rumination of wonder
(Not to live without fault
But to thrive in its decadence)
The heat of twilight cakes my legs in shorts
On yellow sunspots, glowing in his amber eyes
Soon, to appear on the cusp of gothic moor
During the late ombre effect of dusky sky
When its nighttime cataract reveals, the moon
A pitted moonscape
The moor is silent and whispers to its dwellers
If I were to find him there, in the fresco
Etched into the crystal caverns of night
Would he respond in the marsh
With the crickets between the reeds
Or the owl on the ground mole
As the whispers of naiads?
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 7:25 PM UTC
what is like to steal the weather
from somewhere else,
instead of the blues,
like a thief in the night
take the Sun and make
the day bright
while they tear at the
clouds for the usual share
of shining sun,
a cold hearted ****
possessing stolen warmth
the crooked old man I am
with two left feet and cane,
hope they can't track my
steps across the dreamy
starry night back to
my hovel now heated
by rays of a borrowed
ball of molten light
burning guilt into my
back and my shaded eyes
looking down and
to the left, telling lies
about where I was,
with no alibi, and my
permanent burnt fingertips
leaving imprints looking
like sunspots,
showing me to be
that thief in the night.
©ClemC082013
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
She had sun-kissed skin and moonlit eyes
An angelic eclipse in human form
Sunspots freckled across her cheeks
Like a newfound constellation of warmth
She had a smile that sparkled like starlight
That contrasted with her night coloured hair
It flowed so subtly like passing clouds
Gleaming strongly against the daytime flare
She carried a heart as bright as the sun
And her mind that glowed like the moon
She was an embodiment of healing light
With a calming aura that could subdue
Her greetings were like the sunrise
A timid light with soft spoken words
And her goodbyes were like the sunset
A sweet ending in colourful allure
She radiated a vibe of twilight
A serene disposition of pure intent
She was every thing and in between
She would be one of my biggest regrets
If only I could make her see her born beauty
How she does not need to change or chase for more
For the people who judge the darkness between the stars
Chasing the intangible beauty of society’s lore
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 2:07 AM UTC
She is a butterfly...
hiding under sunspots.
He’s a gecko,
lurking in that velvet corner where the light forgets to go.
She is chaos—
he’s the eye of her storm.
They were born from deep sea vents,
rose up to the skies like they meant to crack open clouds,
pull humans into a frenzy
no weather pattern could predict.
She calls it life.
He? He just stares into death,
like it’s a familiar hallway with flickering lights.
The question of origin?
It’s always that stupid finger—
pointing,
blaming,
laughing at the moment they both thought:
"Wait… was any of it even real?"
Hey, ****
It’s all tiny signals,
she read.
"It’s all eternity,"
he preached,
like a god with a broken clock.
They walked through each other’s ghost stories,
talked all night in a language made of
fake memories,
false starts,
and déjà vus shaped like abandoned houses.
They locked eyes—
those traitorous, trembling eyes—
and whispered vows
to nights that haven’t happened yet.
To days that only those **** aliens have seen.
Yeah. Those aliens.
The ones living on the edge
of the universe’s bubble,
eating popcorn,
watching this bubble bursting program
on cosmic cable.
And when the light consumed the darkness,
when the tiny capsules cracked open like old seeds—
they were left raw.
Naked.
Shivering in the gift-wrapped curse
called "Time."
She ran away.
He walked away.
Moments…
split.
Time…
parted.
While million-dollar math problems
sit unsolved on cluttered desks,
watched over by smoke-drenched visionaries
who know something’s wrong
but can’t solve heartbreak
with equations.
This is the program.
It’s always been the program.
We’re just signals,
wrapped in skin,
playing roles,
in a show
with no rehearsal
and no pause button.
So if you’re watching,
dear alien—
just know…
We improvised the whole **** thing.
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 4:24 AM UTC
carpal tunnel
born of first-serve lets
and second-serve ace
comebacks --
from
sloughing off
winter coats
to share between
twelve --
my wrists are
less than echoes
and may have
been little more
to begin --
suspended
by gossamer,
brass-covered
lichen
and ticking fungi,
like man, (with his
whirling gears
and mad metals)
replaced
nature's course
with an automated
system --
i would rust
just to crack
but they keep
me too clean --
my sunspots
have fled to
warmer pastures,
i am milk-buckets
on overcast farm
dawnings, but surely
even they have seen
the light of day --
splashed my face
with wine
and rooibos
to see if i
would stain
like the canvas
metaphor
my generation
ascribes to --
maroon dispersion
in terra cotta wash,
twining around
a spiral course --
the folly of it
went ignored
'til my lost and
floating freckles
gathered at the
drain and clogged
the sink to overflow.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
One day, you're hot
like sunspots,
the next, you're cold
like frozen dewdrops.
I am blown away
by your kindness
& generosity,
blinded by your ferocity
& enamored
with your brilliance.
You're never lukewarm
nor moderate,
you're the perfect storm
touching my heart,
that I love so much.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
When we kiss I taste
the sweet saltiness of the
ocean's lingering graze
When you laugh your eyes
glow like sunspots dancing
on the water’s calm surface
When you breathe in my ear
I hear the gentle roar of waves
And when I trace behind your ears
I feel the the soft underbelly of seashells
Late at night when cars sound like
Waves hitting a distant tidal line
You whisper "How can you love me
when I am like an ocean and you
have only glimpsed the shoreline?”
But I've stood in enough tides to know
The hypnotic pull of the unknown
And coughed up enough water
to know the pain of drowning but
there's something that keeps me
returning and yearning to swim
deeper into this ocean's expanse
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
at the sight of you
moons are dull grey spotlights
flat, dimensionless, and known.
which could make us akin
if i let the end begin.
but i drag it out and twist it tight
all strapped in place
i dig a tunnel in my soft spot.
stretch the truth until it breaks its back.
bones of sugar
clumped together like lonely hydrogen
in a coronal marsh.
i thought i could tame it.
i see
silver and black wind
builders and watchmen.
your world famous carousel hugs
turn to languorous shrugs
but they both make me dizzy.
a gaze eclipsed for the moment
you're less a mind, more a slogan.
when his eye meets yours
it leaves behind
sunspots.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
Perhaps I have not been careful enough.
Perhaps I wanted you to consume me.
Perhaps I wanted to consume you.
Yes, I love you.
Yes, I want you.
But reality's setting in
And the sunspots are clearing from my eyes.
The solar inferno weakens.
I had built you a statue of emeralds and golden thread
But it's been crumbling.
The emeralds are turning out to be moss-covered stones
The golden thread, stiff hay.
I knew you were only human.
Maybe I didn't believe it.
I did not love you because you were immortal.
I did not believe
-With him, with him, I shall love forever
With him, I shall touch the moon.
We shall be created and destroyed, created and destroyed
Forever, and together.
Beginnings and ends in two become one.
Perhaps I thought it
But I did not believe it.
Don't worry.
I will adjust to your humanity
And I will build you a snowman, not a statue.
A snowangel, maybe.
But I am done trying to turn myself to silver.
I am done trying to become an inferno.
Yes, I love you.
Hopefully love is enough.
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 6:52 AM UTC
The aura around her
is hotter than sunspots,
she permeates pure-woman,
allows me private indiscretions.
I can twist her,
bend her in half,
partake in her heavenly assets.
She lets me take her to different universes,
I kiss her everywhere,
my tongue trickles
from her bellybutton south
where my mouth
lips her magic,
that’s a place I like to be.
There’s only one thing
I like better than this,
& it ain’t a cold Heineken.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
Let's take a minute,
Look at yourself in the mirror.
Look at your eyes,
do they shine?
Does your smile look straight?
Are your ears too wide?
Is your nose too big?
Move down a bit.
Your neck to thick?
Too many sunspots?
Adequate chest size?
Now look at your body.
Do I have enough curves?
Big enough hips?
Tiny waist?
No matter what I see,
Someone will find a flaw.
It doesn't matter how much weight I gain
Or how much I lose...
How much plastic surgery I have,
They are never satisfied.
Does it matter what they think?
Can you live your life without them?
Why not love yourself,
And see how that goes.
Self love is important,
You are all you got.
Before you can love someone else,
You must love yourself.
Someday someone will love you,
For your quirks and kinks.
They'll call you beautiful,
And forget about your flaws.
You deserve more than a second glance.
Someone will come your way.
Be patient and love yourself
You don't know who will come your way.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC