Nothing shall save you from the flames. Sizzling, you’ll flee to and fro,
Remorseful of your former greed which bought you that rue and woe.
Your faiths and sciences, arts, or crafts shall not avail. You’ll excrete
All your past joys. Alas, too late this at last you’ll come to know!
Amidst the instants in the flares which last each like an era
You shall not see the seeds of lies you all your lives had to sow;
Nor shall they know their begetters. Strangers shall be the kinsmen
Who entertained one another as if thousand years ago.
What you gleaned out of crookèdness at the cost of your dear lives
Shall melt with you and drip into the soiled earth of yours below.
Naught shall remain of you devils. Your filth perished, new creatures
Shall arrive to take your places, a new dog and pony show!
You knew not the aim of living. Wait for the last burning blow
To make a myth of you on earth: Here today, gone tomorrow.
2.26.2020
Updated Link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxJHecyYBno
I wonder what we are up to in profaning precious souls
And recklessly disregarding the hour for us the bell tolls.
No comments, please!
I burnt. I burnt my letters, problem begetters,
The fondly collected bundle of love letters,
My precious treasure … due to social fetters.
Flames rose sky high, sky high...high
And my heart grieved; did sigh...sigh.
Blazing shreds of letters … sky high … flew,
Sighing, sobbing, grieving; feebly bidding me adieu.
*A 1st Place*in the following contest (judged on Nov. 3, 2020)
Oct. 29, 2020
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(37) any theme any form Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Brian Strand
a piece on wars and peace
the breeze’s burden breath
struggles with itself as it wearily
blows over bloated cradled remains
bloated cradled remains
saturating space
with perfume odors
of the aroma of death
and the dead
the dead are indeed at peace
the living left to survival agony
left behind by the begetters of war
begetters of war
studying in vain vanity
oblivious that peace is given
and wars are never won
in war
only death is the victor
and we are all the victims.
they say rumors of more remain…
The names of success spoken slowly, enunciated with near perfection.
Begetters delighted while warriors of knowledge even prouder.
Frame the object with that pride, etched in bold colors of quested victory.
Intended to render focus where future awaits with her breath of betterment.
Render the mortar board square, keeping the gown smooth as the silk it resembles.
Shutterbugs will capture that smile of a thousand future memories.
A feastful celebration shared in public display, consuming all thoughts of ineptness.
Success is now official along with all cheers for you - the graduate.
......................................................
Written: 5/18/2016
Type: Prose Poetry
Contest: Any Poem You Ever Penned
Contest Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placement: 10th Place
If we were like words—
Oh we would live forever;
But we are human—
God gave us the words—
That they pour out forever;
We are but vessels—
Words live forever—
Their begetters are like grass:
So be we poets—