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Love Poems About Sunspots or Sunspots Love Poems
by Johnette Loefgren |
Categories: passion,

Solar sailors

  Rising
      on convection currents
           let the heat waves take you higher
   
Sunspots on the eye of reason
      bright obsessive radiation,

casting shadows on  the desert
       rippling on the rolling ocean
             rise and fall across the mountains

leaning out against the sunset
      burning sails on the horizon,

Solar sailors, lost in love.


by Johnette Loefgren |
Categories: lost love, passion,

Sunspots on the Face of Dawn

  We feel the changes
of the seasons
still we stay 
for our own reasons
I because the time recalls
when we nearly had it all
He because
his olive skin
reflects the sun,
absorbs his friends
our cabana
sags and shivers
near the winter line
that quivers
on my lips
the margaritas
salty spray
on senoritas
gliding by him
on the sands
I am sick and weak 
of hands
Yesterday we sailed
the harbor
silent,strong and filled
with ardor
By tommorow
we'll be gone
sunspots on 
the face of dawn.

by Tony Bush |
Categories: life, nature, people, places, sea, social, universe,

Orange

Sunspots stain the smoking lenses,
sedation shades the restless sea,
gradients of tangerine 
kiss surface burned tranquility.
Beyond the dreams of hungry eyes,
skyline licked by orange tongues,
street lights blinking into graves,
microcosmic dying suns.
Bleeding hearts on promenades
patrol the run down pallisades,
a universe breeds parallels
of purple prose and love parades.
Beyond the humpback of the bridge,
through latticed bones of iron rust,
sinks the orange basketball,
liquid gold to dirt and dust.
Dreamless sleepers congregate
as fading strands crawl on the skies,
and loneliness concealed within
then laughs until it crys.

by Kim Rodrigues |
Categories: imagery, love, morning,

A COCKCROW IN LACE

the sunspots ensconced behind howdy-do curtains a cockcrow in lace white watering can french blue white sprouts of ivy deep green unhackneyed eggs bright brown the pale yellow sun flickers snow and no one wears silk nightgowns as knees fall, and wrinkles like weeds are read on the backside of palms that hurry the yolks and sizzle the bacon, pour coffee into old cups one for the geezer who grumps but puckers up for his buttercup 7/9/2020