Written: July 30, for contest Sponsored by: Rob Carmack
**************
I sketch your pedigree in marrow script,
each speech slice out of salt spines—
No ledger can fetter the flow of flame,
or control the smell of storm-born mind.
Wombs are pedestals blazed by pyre,
where armor converts into full ember.
The lightning danced all through the night
To wrought a festival of fire
That put to torch in blackened blight,
And scorched the forest like a pyre
Now, petroglyphs of nature’s arts
In splotchy ash ‘cross craggy scarp,
Are scarred background to blackened ghosts
Now frozen in escapement’s warp.
The energy of blackened woods
And flora from the forest floor
Has left behind the fertile goods
Of nascence sown, as evermore.
One day,
On a blissful Wednesday,
I crawl up the moon to cry away.
Dark night,
Take me away with the light,
Keep sailing through the storm with all my might.
Silence the dweller,
While roses for the pyre wither,
And all my hopes shatter.
You've meant so deeply much; within my desire
If I could present a world or build an empire
It would be so easy to secretly conspire
In a way that you would not find hard to admire
Happiness for me; sought just nurturing your purist fire
You see my genuine intentions; carrying us higher
We are beyond me; so far past what I wantingly require
Viewing you satisfied; fuels me to wondrously aspire
A devotion of which I will sleeplessly never overtire
My differing notion; I'm just resolved; to her eternal pyre
How strident are their screams, 'Ceasefire!'
~ adding fuel to the funeral pyre ...
She laid her emotions on a pyre.
Took a torch and lit a flame.
A gust of wind kidnapped them,
Taking them into the sky.
Watching as her desires flew away.
A smile hinted in her eyes.
your first kiss
turn flocks of birds
in thoughts
in blood
in the bones
they all create their nest inside me
as if I were
another season
or maybe they desire
from the poisoned fruit
escape key for those
who will ask me regarding
Immortality
in waltz step on the pyre
the flight is burning
the freedom
the longing.
Intentions fall akin to ashes on the pyre.
Of our procrastination quixotic fire
We've got a penchant for delay and distraction.
A puerile fear of routine and reaction.
But in our deepest hearts, we glow.
Time is a precious commodity to sow.
But we still apply it to just toss it away.
Thinking that tomorrow will start a fresh day
We piddle with excuses and justify.
Our lack of progress and letting scope pass us by
But the truth is, we're only cheating ourselves.
By neglecting our dreams and putting them on shelves
So let us rise from the ashes of our pyre.
And ignite a fresh flame of desire.
Let's attempt to alter our current reality.
And will cease to be hindered by frugality.
Life is too precious to waste away.
On diddle misguided play
Let us grapple with the day and bear it count.
If you live decently, the strain won't mount.
No, No, No please stop this
I screamed aloud
Fire started igniting my whole body
I cried loud
Please somebody help me out
Why nobody could hear
Why everyone act like I no longer exist there
I started feeling fear
Everyone is shaking my body and crying aloud
Now, I realize I lost
My everything forever
The one who loves me
May remember me for certain year
The one who dislike my existence
May be happy forever
Spark from Montezuma’s fire
Brought Gleemont closer to his desire
He watched his almost bride drink the potion
And fall down into the fire with sheer devotion
Why was she the one to be sacrificed?
He was angry at the gods, his love now sliced.
Gleemont crept closer to the pit with his club
He could hear the cheers of another warrior, Glub.
Their crops were now insured to be terrific this year.
His almost bride had not given a cry or shown any fear.
Brave, this beauty who had been given to them freely.
Gleemont turned to his old enemy Reely.
Reely’s eye’s got darker, and they got into fighter stance.
Gleemont was hoping to die; now he had a good chance.
Their battle was bloody and lasted for almost an hour.
Gleemont was disappointed when the war turned sour.
He was hoping to die and join his almost bride tonight.
But alas, his warrior soul kicked in, and he won the fight.
So his almost bride went to heaven, where she now dwells.
And Gleemont began the rest of his life, which felt like hells.
' Such sinful acts would awake the inviting darkness into the fervent misdeeds of carnal lust, that burn in the heat of an ever raging pyre; where the scorching heat is a consuming hell of pleasure to those who crave in the tinder of its wanting rebellion. '.
Alfredo Gonzales ©
Burned
by the flame of
of his observation
Charred
by the memory
of a final wish
(Dreamsleep: July, 2021)
The smoke is rising
On the far horizon
The Eastern skies are aglow
With the countless fires,
Of funeral pyres
In numbers we cannot know,
Strange fires indeed
That burn for the need
Of oxygenated air.
And we, who stand so far away,
Are still left cold, and smugly say,
“We are here, and they are there.”
But it’s fools who stand and look on blind
At the smoke that’s carried on the westward wind.
© Barry Freeman 5th May 2021
On the pyre are laid
Deeds and dreams of a lifetime-
Sacred smoke rises!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
01 May 2021
*There have been at least 300,000 new infections every day in the past week, with more than 360,000 new cases and more than 3500 deaths in the past 24 hours.
If you wanted my beating heart
You should’ve treated it right from the start
Yet you set me on fire
cause you hate yourself
Watched my burning pyre
As you berate yourself
Now my carcass smolders
In the ashes of
What sickens me to call our love
It gives me glee to see
It blow away in the wind
As if it was never there to begin
And at last I am free again
Related Poems