Best Sunspots Poems
To Erase The Memory Of You
To erase the sunspots of the mind,
The memories that are you,
The dotted sunshine through the years,
Enslaved in lover’s hue.
To rid the body of all the pain
And showers flooding through,
Grey clouds that dissipated
With your songs and rainbow view.
To have lived a life having never known
The warmth and deep connect,
The nurture feigned for access,
Prior to drought and harsh neglect.
To forget the madness of the love
And desire I felt so true
Would be the agony and ecstasy
In this garden made for two
To forgive and not forget
Is now all that will ensue,
But I forgive myself for loving you
For it wasn’t hard to do.
17th October 2019
Midnight Aurora
In transit through the time-zones, trails her colours everywhere,
Her spectrographic spectrums lance ethereal through the air,
Fragmenting rainbow spears and curves of bending light,
Arcing jet-streams counterpoint with sunspots blinding bright.
And in the dreams I have of her beneath blown skies of tangerine,
Angelic, incandescent, paints the sweetest forms I’ve ever seen.
Elated on the desert winds she flickers some prismatic ghost,
Tripping ruined beauty from each pillar to each mystic post,
Deep emerald light refracted as cracked ice in shining eyes,
A telepathic temptress breathing winter sleep and summer sighs.
And in the morning sun that kisses glacial seas of bathtub blue,
She walks the dunes of memory, on golden beaches combing through.
My hands look worn, marked by the passing of time,
Of sunlight, cold, heat and work.
They have baked, cooked, gardened and harvested,
They have held the hands of devastated people sitting in front of a casket,’
They have soothed fevered brows, wrapped gifts with a smile on my face.
They have held many pudgy little hands of toddlers learning to walk,
And now hold the hand of my older, stumbling friend.
They are covered with sunspots, but they are happy spots.
A legacy of many bright hours spend in my flourishing garden,
Of romantic walks, of picnics with friends, of games played with children,
And of time spend alone, out in nature, replenishing myself.
My hands, adorned with rings, showing my commitment to my Love,
Carrying my birthstone ring, a present of my Sweetheart,
And in rememberence of my Mom, her favorite ring.
My hands are a mirror of my life.
Crumpled Thoughts
They wait – in hues of vibrating silence -
Like leftover orts of rumpled paper wimples
On creased clandestine journal pages –
Bent scraps of wrinkled inspiration
Smudged moments held in their one moment of time
Musings fading to illegible
Lost chords in treasured memories of radiance,
Sunspots of incomplete illumination,
Or crumpled creativity on paper wings
Snapshots of raw moments in tormented terror
Footprint creased signatures of incensed avenging angels
For abandoned ragged beggars in pencil
Of partial tidings
Wearing incomplete tatters of disturbed serenity
Waiting – lined up – for their turn to speak –
Vying for resuscitation
As actors reading their scripts –
Players auditioning for ideas
Of ice castles throwing off anonymity
Whistling like nonchalant sentimental journeys
In phases of the moon begging for words
Libretti confronting notes wandering in obscurity
Impatient plans in fits of tantrum’s flight
Residue of fantasies for
Gypsy fortuneteller’s phantasmal globes
Rescued by ruminations tender muse
With the gift of time to take them from her
Nurturing womb into full life and maturity –
Blinking in the brightness of real time
Bits and snatches adjust sight from consecrated darkness
To lumens brightness of looming footlights
Now taking bows in postmarks of epilogues -
Snatched from wondrous oblivion -
Profiles sketched in hope’s penumbra.
1-11-21
Contest: Crimpled Thoughts
Sponsor: John Lawless
The windchill is 45 below sanity
a snow man has frozen snot
dripping from his 1 carrot nose
but the cold doesn't stop the gun toll
in my sweet home Chicago.
27 dead across the Midwest
Frozen solid in the echo of their final step.
A snow shoveling heart attack,
took out a veteran who did three tours in Iraq.
Still three months to go till the sunspots warm up my soul.
My neighbor kept me awake, wielding a leaf blower.
To whisp away little puffs of snow.
He knows I work the graveyard shift.
but tomorrow I'll give him my happy hello.
He's on permanent disability drives a nicer car than me.
He's the one who rolled the snotty snowman.
into form even with his bad back.
Clever little mother#%$&*$
He'll never will have a heart attack.
There's a variety of starvation and riots.
Thirteen wars going on at present.
but the primetime gossips are obsessing about.
Trumps big orange belly and wispy hair...
Mercifully they cut to a Kotex commercial.
It's a good time to coffee up and take a piss.
I've got a very serious case of the polar vortex blues.
We have sunflowers and sunspots.
Both brilliant, yellow, and dazzling.
You can sniff one, but not the other.
Both delicate, and powerful.
Moonstones with rainbow power
can be iridescent and comforting.
Moon landings, not so easy.
Mooning – not as appealing.
Word play can be delightful.
Thinking on paper.
Ideas popping out, escaping into yellow sunflowers.
Or mooning your audience, taking you to another world.
Your ideas might simply find themselves
turning into a nice crisp clean cool harvest moon
or a sizzling hot sunspot, blurring your reader’s eyes.
Never know where words will take you, until they do.
I feel sorry for the non-readers, who are missing
Tens of thousands of words, seeing squiggles and dots.
Not recognizing words at all – not conjuring sunflowers or
Moonstones. Glad we have photography and nature for them.
Im half awake, and glaring at the sunrise
distant brilliance slowly eating at my dry eyes
squinted to best witness the aureate Apollo
refract off blades soaked through with dew
heaven's first blush, midsummer quiet, and coffee scent
cast clarity, light unveiling the burden
weighing down on every living being
clearest with the coming of the day
burning black holes into my brain's blank slate
sundering my soul 'till shatter state
fast approaches on the infinity of empty space
veiled out ahead of me
Restless with the lethargy of baring witness
I stir the pit, and catch flames leap up
from within carbon prints of gray matter
quelled embers lay suffocating beneath
ash dunes and smoldering phoenix feathers
matted and clumped by filmy deliquescence
spent of all but their will to rise again.
I grasp at the green broken glass
strewn about my feet like seeds
planted by last night's ignorance
and the sin of forced forgetting that
we all someday pay recompense
for our vice's and the gluttonous
way we all practice immoderation.
The world is quiet in lull
humanity lost to an illusion
breathing soft
and sleeping soundly
altogether
We exist
to want and rub against
the way the world turns on
a crooked axis, each moment less lucid
than those sunspots and dewdrops
coursing through dirt-clay veins and
branding the cracked dirt with morning
I cant shake loose the afterimage
imprinted on my blunted senses
experiencing everything I reach
is less than whole
understanding the universe
exists as fragments blackened in spite
of time's one plight forever pulling it apart
The sunset split the sky,
the fire danced and spit,
and the condensation clotted.
I seized eternity that morning
amidst the doldrums of sleeping masses
its truth intimate and calming.
I sense slumber cease and the suburbs rustle
the dreamers stumble about in waking
to shower away their sweat and dreamt delusion
start their cars, and drive away in sync
I listen closely to their heavy sighs
the shift of sagging shoulder plates,
bent under with Atlas tugging at the reins
kind's struggle never ceases to
echo off of terra firma, quaking
with each clanking of the chains
that bind our beating hearts to
alarm clocks, freeways, work weeks
and the torment of monotony
Catastrophe of the dry run
The sea, Ice, air, human are rapture
The powerful are brought to ruin
Green horse making this World hot
70% is absorbed in heat
18 degrees Celsius balance the heat
Mighty keeper of water in the lands
Mighty destroyer of Islands
Changing, charging chastising
The atmosphere
I see, I am part of your activities
Burning of coal activities
Carbon emission, 34%. 2020 activities
350,000 in Britain suffered your hands.
65,000 Dominican Republic feel your hands
500,000 in southern California left home to avoid your hand
Denmark gathered the heads cos of your hand.
The heads accept to make peace.
If only it will go to the heart.
Oh mighty one, tell me how to keep peace,
Is it more of vegetation, so I keep peace?
Or keep away carbon dioxide
Nitrous oxide and methane
for peace.
Mighty one, tell me
How you can lie low, for peace
I know I used more than
I put back to you.
Should I have my own forest?
But I know sunspots and solar flares started before me.
REASONS OF WRITING
This poem was writing out of inspiration on hearing and reading how this atmosphere has been badly used and the follow events caused by bad emission to the air, the changing in almost every natural events gave rise and when the heads of states gathered in Denmark to plan for the way forward. It is my contribution on how this atmosphere can be made for a better condition for us all to stay in.
MESSAGE
(1) This poem is a free verse, it run through without break, saying the major event that global warming has cause in the world.
(2) That the heads of states decision in Denmark should be put into practice not mouth say.
(3) That before man (human) started anything sunspots and solar flares started before man
(4) We use more than we put back to nature.
(5) That green vegetations is also a way forward.
(6) Everyman should have his/her own or plant his/her own forest it is possible.
I'm getting old,
I have a suspicion.
How do I know?
Corrugated skin
and sunspots
of road map
composition.
If multi colored
would paint
a rainbow.
Your Beauty, Aromatic Fragrance Of Roses In Full Bloom
Your warmth , rests in sweet tenderness covering my aching heart
your beauty, aromatic fragrance of roses in full bloom.
Our fate, love far more than gleaming stars on astrology chart
each hot night we dance in tingling rhapsody in our bedroom.
As green sprouts shooting forth in colorful life every new Spring
we bask in glowing sunspots to warm our hearts and fill our sails.
Red-lip kisses and gentle touch invigorate and bring
romance for the ages and all each sensual night that entails.
New dawn , your scent wakes me to an angel resting sweetly there
never again will my heart seek greater than what I have now.
Your angelic face and gentle heart, surely fairest of fair
I found you in my long search and won your love I know not how!
Where racing sprouts shoot forth into colorful life every Spring
your red-lip kisses and daring nighttime dancing makes me sing.
Robert J.Lindley, 4-25-2016
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15 15 15 0 15 15
Total # Syllables: 210
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 155
Note- Written for Teppo Gren 's new contest, based on song number three, Feelings by Andy Williams..
A romantic sonnet composed in 15 syllable verses.
Sunspots boil oceans
Cycles rage in ebb and flow
Rollercoaster life
04.06.22
"The Young and the Breathless"- TV soap opera about youg emphysema
patients unfaithful to their doctors.
Candid- Something you could do, and did do.
Phone Call- Bidding your phone to come to you.
Binary- What you can purchase with nary any money.
Nascent- Odorless.
Philosophy- Phil Silvers designing soffits.
Surcharge- Driving down Rt. Number One on the Big Sur at 70 mph.
Surplus- The addition of the above's wrecked car to the cliffside base below the
aforementioned highway.
Supplant- Burying the idiot victims of the above, around dinner time.
Sunglasses- Drinking vessels for our Solar companion.
Sunspots- Where my male offspring hangs out.
Gnome, Alaska- The city in Alaska where the Travelocity icon was found frozen
solid.
DVDs- Defective BVD shorts.
Tuba-fish- Edible fish from an all-fish marching band.
Leak-Proof- Applying Super-Glue to the tip of one's *****.
Leave of Absence- Finding your mate has disappeared into a pile of leaves.
Eavesdrop- Falling off the edge of your roof.
Ecosystem- A ritualized style of producing an echo in a jar.
Sentiment- when a Mob boss orders cement for a mob "funeral".
Cyclone- an artificially duplicated person's mild vocalization of sadness.
Elfin John- Small, bespeckled gay singer/songwritter.
Elongate- Turnstyle in the NYC subway system, to the "E" train, expanded in size
for fat people.
"It Takes A Leaf"- How to catch poison ivy.
Hopin' to give a smile to Christy in her time of trouble.
Lin, a Chinese friend giggled at my feeble, say,
pedestrian attempt at Cantonese,
the Chinese word for butterfly or dragon even moth
just vanished down the throat of one
so eager yet befuddled,
turning egg shell noodles under spit fire lanterns,
our laughter rose and fell amid the sotto voce banter now in train.
Me, the woodland boffin, immersed in esoteric marshland plant life,
the sort that rules the grand designs of green leaf activists.
Lin, the restless late teen nomad,
who had yet to sink deep roots,
often dwelt in backstreet fruit and flora stalls.
On occasions even flexing sylvan muscles
on craggy mountain tops.
Her flawless English honed through years of rough sea ferry ventures,
on holidays abroad in trendy sunspots,
at major meadow festivals where gaiety and buzz words sprout.
We keep in touch through text and pen as often as we can.
Meeting up is fun.
I hope one day my knowledge of those mystic eastern tongues
will stray beyond the basics of some tawdry travel phrase book,
the one I’m prone to cart around the world but seldom use
Contest : YOUR PERSONAL FAVOURITE
Date judged with N/A : 4 th August 2021
and not to eternity the predefined will happen accidently
but to a cry
unheard and clear and the sermon that will BE
to shelter the torn off grains in the summer
the sunspots priest in the reflections
of the water
in blue
Twinkle twinkle, little star,
93 million miles far.
Giver of light, supporter of life,
energy, climate and season device.
The sun is a star, we're glad it is here,
as our life support, for 5 billion years.
This star is among the brightest in space,
though close, many questions about it remain.
With violet ,orange, and reddish of hues,
our home solar system pivots on you.
8,000 degrees of Kelvin heat,
elements of Hydrogen and Helium meet.
Over 100 times the size of the Earth,
rotating once is a seven day turn.
The first of three layers is visible light,
the thick photosphere is a veil of white.
The atmosphere there is a plasma in ways,
which emits a series of wavelengths and rays.
A more defined trait are the patches of dark,
Sunspots are cooler, magnetically charged.
These spots tend to vary and alter in shape,
every 11 years, new cycles take place.
Solar cycles can affect the weather on Earth,
filters and color are how they’re observed.
Direct observation can damage the eyes,
I'd advise that precautions be sought and applied.
The heat is supplied by a core via fusion,
and exits as energy and light distribution.
Plasma is also among things released,
Solar Flares on the surface are a common sight seen.
All around they emit rays, X and UV,
which frequently jam radio frequencies.
Close to the sunspots, the flares can be viewed,
particles majestically travel in loops.
The Sun, like the Moon, is a welcomed companion,
life without it cannot be imagined.
Twinkle twinkle, little star,
93 million miles far.
Giver of light, supporter of life,
always shining, through day and through night.