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ryn Apr 2022
lay it in the heart(h)
watch with unglazed eyes.

see the blaze play its part.

as it consumes all to ashes
before it
reluctantly wanes and dies.
I S A A C Feb 2022
I reignited the spark, reconnected to the hearth
reconnected to the heart in me
it was dark, cold, and scary
I was mocked, bold, and contrary
to my own beliefs, seeds I could never reap
due to the fact I was running miles
in an attempt to protect my inner child
from the incoming tsunami, the bottled up tears
the resurfacing adolescent fears brought me to prayers
but I reignited my spark, I embarked on a new start
where my path is filled with purple roses
a new beginning as the circle closes
its the circle of life, its the purpose of life
I reignited my spark, extinguished my strife
Paul Idiaghe Dec 2020
There’s a holocaust
sweeping through my body
but i call it

strap myself to its stake
as a sacrifice, relish
how its fire

dignifies me,
how the tongue-like torso  
of my scent
rolls out to taste

You, with the hot air
for hair, you
with the sparking skin,
feed my flames,

hearteater, the mouths
on your cheeks
open wide
& I enter, as if to join
the rest of me; see

how all that is left
circulating in my veins
is your voice; my body,
now inanimate,

an instrument for your
its cinders sing like

is the sequel to your stones
thrice striked.
aesthenne Nov 2020
warmth and
kindness is
in the flames
that keep you
from tripping
in the dark.

it can protect
as well as
keep you
away from
being harmed.

her loving and
everlasting glow
shall be
touching to those
invited to stay
at a place called home.
Dedicated to my Matron, Hestia, goddess of the hearth ♡
min Aug 2020
i’ll be waiting
in this forsaken hearth
where there is
no more fire left
to give me warmth.
i’ll wait until the sun rises
or until it sets.
i’ll wait until the rain stops
or until it pours more.
i’ll wait until it’s noon
or until it’s already four.
i’ll wait until you come back
or until I lose myself
in this cold, cold night.
oh, beloved —
salvage me tonight;
or else, I’ll fall apart.
i am fond of using anaphora. it’s one of my favorites.
relahxe Jan 2020
I can't possibly judge you
That you left me in a trice
From your hands cold to the touch
to your heart - a ball of ice

Yours collided with the warmth of mine
It gradually took a different shape
You said I robbed and left your soul
but it was yours that melted

I held the ice for far too long
My hands became too numb
They had to cope with all the cold
you always brought along

One may say the ice just vanished
I may argue it fused with my skin
From there it went through my whole body
and now I have it always in me

I loved you a little too much
And held you for a little too long
Why does it hurt so much
when you left me all on my own?

It hurts not because I miss you
That episode is long-forgotten
It hurts because you rendered me
just as you are

It hurts because whenever I go
I see you in myself
The ice is still in my blood,
my bones, my neck and veins

I know that somewhere, in the deep
There's still a source of love and warmth
It's my sanctuary, my hearth and outset
And I'll find my way back there
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
I'm barely at home
There's my wooden furniture
These my plates of chrome
A fridge full of nourishment
My marble dome
But I'm barely at home

I've barely a hearth
This a room of my choosing
That there my land on earth
My book shelf for musing
Amenities for mirth
But barely a hearth
I don't have any place to feel at home... Freestyle written in 6 minutes.
blushing prince Sep 2019
there is a moth that resides on my bedside table
inside the warm lamp like a womb
like an endearing cozy hand
reaching for your face in the middle of a frozen hysteria
he rises from his bed of light every night
a bottom floor full of mirth and fuzz
ready to relay the songs of his memories
slow dancing in the small space of my room like he's memorized where the floor slants and what parts creak
his mouth moves in a jagged frenzy and I am devoured inside the falsetto of a pregnant hum so constant my breathing loops in significant O's
he waits for my eyes to close so that his wings open up
moving the dust to gather itself and move to another part of the house
the fluttering in sync with the wavering of the hypnotic sound waves
the antennae sighing along with the mist outside slowly forming on the windowsill
my head becomes a hot sun and as the beads of sweat trickle he moves closer until he reaches with spindly legs
drying the perspiration from my forehead with a tongue that shushes me to sleep until I am still in a cocoon of silk
telling me that want and need are always the same things
always the same things
i submitted this into a contest but I think I'd rather just post it here
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