"afire" poems - Hello Poetry

"afire" poems

~for L3igh~ the briefness of brevity, the quality of giving and indeed, it is a-quality, a luxury item so affordable, yet, so totally, rarely purchased, When giving up the requisite, only the lonely, but always the critical, relevant or necessary exquisite in a few words Let us practice: I love you, but only the very first time, in a memory bronzed and burnished, putting to shame the way too short modesty of forever… uttering a precious precision of a soulful thank you to a passing stranger, who runs into your home afire, saving all of your family's lives could go on, and on, But that would not be, A Concision, instead, a concession, to the very few times in a day, in the world's entirety, when those are the words, are only the only, a sufficient holy, a devout summary spectacular, akin, but only a just, derivative of, a sincerely uttered: Thank You God^ nml

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Oct 5, 2025

Oct 5, 2025 at 8:02 AM UTC

~for L3igh~ the briefness of brevity, the quality of giving and indeed, it is a-quality, a luxury item so affordable, yet, so totally, rarely purchased, When giving up the requisite, only the lonely, but always the critical, relevant or necessary exquisite in a few words Let us practice: I love you, but only the very first time, in a memory bronzed and burnished, putting to shame the way too short modesty of forever… uttering a precious precision of a soulful thank you to a passing stranger, who runs into your home afire, saving all of your family's lives could go on, and on, But that would not be, A Concision, instead, a concession, to the very few times in a day, in the world's entirety, when those are the words, are only the only, a sufficient holy, a devout summary spectacular, akin, but only a just, derivative of, a sincerely uttered: Thank You God^ nml

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I am in a crate, the crate that was ours, full of white shirts and salad greens, the icebox knocking at our delectable knocks, and I wore movies in my eyes, and you wore eggs in your tunnel, and we played sheets, sheets, sheets all day, even in the bathtub like lunatics. But today I set the bed afire and smoke is filling the room, it is getting hot enough for the walls to melt, and the icebox, a gluey white tooth. I have on a mask in order to write my last words, and they are just for you, and I will place them in the icebox saved for ***** and tomatoes, and perhaps they will last. The dog will not. Her spots will fall off. The old letters will melt into a black bee. The night gowns are already shredding into paper, the yellow, the red, the purple. The bed -- well, the sheets have turned to gold -- hard, hard gold, and the mattress is being kissed into a stone. As for me, my dearest Foxxy, my poems to you may or may not reach the icebox and its hopeful eternity, for isn't yours enough? The one where you name my name right out in P.R.? If my toes weren't yielding to pitch I'd tell the whole story -- not just the sheet story but the belly-button story, the pried-eyelid story, the whiskey-sour-of-the-nipple story -- and shovel back our love where it belonged. Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black and a red powder seeps through my veins, our little crate goes down so publicly and without meaning it, you see, meaning a solo act, a cremation of the love, but instead we seem to be going down right in the middle of a Russian street, the flames making the sound of the horse being beaten and beaten, the whip is adoring its human triumph while the flies wait, blow by blow, straight from United Fruit, Inc.

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19.6k

Love Letter Written In A Burning Building

I am in a crate, the crate that was ours, full of white shirts and salad greens, the icebox knocking at our delectable knocks, and I wore movies in my eyes, and you wore eggs in your tunnel, and we played sheets, sheets, sheets all day, even in the bathtub like lunatics. But today I set the bed afire and smoke is filling the room, it is getting hot enough for the walls to melt, and the icebox, a gluey white tooth. I have on a mask in order to write my last words, and they are just for you, and I will place them in the icebox saved for ***** and tomatoes, and perhaps they will last. The dog will not. Her spots will fall off. The old letters will melt into a black bee. The night gowns are already shredding into paper, the yellow, the red, the purple. The bed -- well, the sheets have turned to gold -- hard, hard gold, and the mattress is being kissed into a stone. As for me, my dearest Foxxy, my poems to you may or may not reach the icebox and its hopeful eternity, for isn't yours enough? The one where you name my name right out in P.R.? If my toes weren't yielding to pitch I'd tell the whole story -- not just the sheet story but the belly-button story, the pried-eyelid story, the whiskey-sour-of-the-nipple story -- and shovel back our love where it belonged. Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black and a red powder seeps through my veins, our little crate goes down so publicly and without meaning it, you see, meaning a solo act, a cremation of the love, but instead we seem to be going down right in the middle of a Russian street, the flames making the sound of the horse being beaten and beaten, the whip is adoring its human triumph while the flies wait, blow by blow, straight from United Fruit, Inc.

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I hope it makes you feel better, my Love. Seeing my heart melting for you on the roaring fire… There is nothing that I could have done to change the way that this has ended, yet I would still happily melt to make you feel better. I would still burn to keep you warm. Did you notice the way the fire made my heart glow in the orange yellow flames? I did. I also noticed the way that it cried out, feeling lost and empty and broken in its final moments of misery. And I heard how you cried out when you realized that there was nothing left but to set fire to my lonely love. I cannot explain why I have chosen this route. I cannot tell you the reasons behind choosing to burn, and at the same time, scorch you with the melting remnants of my heart. The only thing that I can say is that I am sorry. Sorry for the pain and the burns and the fire, and the need for them all. And that I am left, burning with you, just the same. And in those cooling embers, there lies the ashes of me that I will never regain, for I have given it to you. It was the shattered pieces of my Technicolor heart that filled the barren canvas with the imperfections of my love. It was the only thing which has ever made any sense and at the same time, no sense at all. It was all that I ever hoped to be mixed with all the doubt of who I was never worthy of being. It was yours, and I gave it freely to you. It should not make me sad that you have chosen to put it to rest in the funeral pyre, yet I feel the want to cry. Sleep sweet, my Love, knowing that I would throw my heart on the fire a thousand times over for you to remain un-singed by its heat. I only wish that I could have.

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Sep 11, 2013

Sep 11, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC

My Technicolor Heart, Afire...

I hope it makes you feel better, my Love. Seeing my heart melting for you on the roaring fire… There is nothing that I could have done to change the way that this has ended, yet I would still happily melt to make you feel better. I would still burn to keep you warm. Did you notice the way the fire made my heart glow in the orange yellow flames? I did. I also noticed the way that it cried out, feeling lost and empty and broken in its final moments of misery. And I heard how you cried out when you realized that there was nothing left but to set fire to my lonely love. I cannot explain why I have chosen this route. I cannot tell you the reasons behind choosing to burn, and at the same time, scorch you with the melting remnants of my heart. The only thing that I can say is that I am sorry. Sorry for the pain and the burns and the fire, and the need for them all. And that I am left, burning with you, just the same. And in those cooling embers, there lies the ashes of me that I will never regain, for I have given it to you. It was the shattered pieces of my Technicolor heart that filled the barren canvas with the imperfections of my love. It was the only thing which has ever made any sense and at the same time, no sense at all. It was all that I ever hoped to be mixed with all the doubt of who I was never worthy of being. It was yours, and I gave it freely to you. It should not make me sad that you have chosen to put it to rest in the funeral pyre, yet I feel the want to cry. Sleep sweet, my Love, knowing that I would throw my heart on the fire a thousand times over for you to remain un-singed by its heat. I only wish that I could have.

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I treasure those nights of unexpected surrender when hands molded caressed and made me tremble waking from slumber with body afire as he inched gradually into me bathed in my welcoming heat one palm curled protectively 'round the weight of my breast as finger and thumb drew on beaded peak and breath caught in my throat as his full depth was reached unable to remain still rocking back to achieve a deeper sink his sudden hiss scalding my neck teeth worrying my bottom lip neither willing to move afraid it would all end too soon and as the flames continued to rise groans replaced whispered sighs no hurried pace or rapid ****** slow and sensual movements dragging us ever nearer the edge denying that final release drawing closer but holding it back sensation heightened beyond bearing until that fraying tether breaks causing walls to tighten and quake drinking every last drop of his lust clutching inside and out desperately seeking his mouth sealing the cataclysmic moment heart pressed to heart breath to breath

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Mar 23, 2018

Mar 23, 2018 at 6:54 AM UTC

I treasure those nights of unexpected surrender when hands molded caressed and made me tremble waking from slumber with body afire as he inched gradually into me bathed in my welcoming heat one palm curled protectively 'round the weight of my breast as finger and thumb drew on beaded peak and breath caught in my throat as his full depth was reached unable to remain still rocking back to achieve a deeper sink his sudden hiss scalding my neck teeth worrying my bottom lip neither willing to move afraid it would all end too soon and as the flames continued to rise groans replaced whispered sighs no hurried pace or rapid ****** slow and sensual movements dragging us ever nearer the edge denying that final release drawing closer but holding it back sensation heightened beyond bearing until that fraying tether breaks causing walls to tighten and quake drinking every last drop of his lust clutching inside and out desperately seeking his mouth sealing the cataclysmic moment heart pressed to heart breath to breath

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My skin is cracked pulling split apart Mucous forms, blood bubbles fat popping skin melts Hair afire! skull snapping arm bones charred Collapsed in two scream fire body sinking To Ashen State, To Ashen State, Immolation To Ashen State, To Ashen State, A Man cannot be the Sun. *

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Dec 24, 2016

Dec 24, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC

david-john-mowers

My skin is cracked pulling split apart Mucous forms, blood bubbles fat popping skin melts Hair afire! skull snapping arm bones charred Collapsed in two scream fire body sinking To Ashen State, To Ashen State, Immolation To Ashen State, To Ashen State, A Man cannot be the Sun. *

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*A vast blanket of darkness, the world at night Bombarded by the explosion of light Were you bedazzled by my kaleidoscopic luster? You were silenced with awe And your eyes manifest wonder My splendor of lights were formed from the shadows And in its depths I'll return Sadness and hurt made indigo Bliss and jubilance made yellow So light me up, ignite me be the flame to set me afire colliding thoughts had lifted me up This is my extravagant goodbye As the last glint of light flickers in the last seconds of my show as it falls slowly to be one with void i'd like to see one last smile aglow you're the spark that triggered me to combust i was once a firework show now one with dust*

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Jan 3, 2015

Jan 3, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC

*A vast blanket of darkness, the world at night Bombarded by the explosion of light Were you bedazzled by my kaleidoscopic luster? You were silenced with awe And your eyes manifest wonder My splendor of lights were formed from the shadows And in its depths I'll return Sadness and hurt made indigo Bliss and jubilance made yellow So light me up, ignite me be the flame to set me afire colliding thoughts had lifted me up This is my extravagant goodbye As the last glint of light flickers in the last seconds of my show as it falls slowly to be one with void i'd like to see one last smile aglow you're the spark that triggered me to combust i was once a firework show now one with dust*

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Led down from the tower Head high and hands bound Blindfold declined against the wall Black square pinned to his heart Eyes afire and shining proud He sang... He sang of Caruso, Townes Van Zandt Pavarotti, Bocelli, Mercury, Carreras, he sang of Antoine, Of Sinatra, Lennon, Morrison, Redding He sang and songbirds paused in flight He sang like them all He sang a song of himself Of leaves of grass, of second comings Of Byron, and Bharti, and Cummings He sang of Neruda, and Plath, Tagore Dickinson, Kamala Das and Naidu Oh, he sang of them all He sang of art and beauty Of Mona Lisa and starry nights Girls in green dresses and pearls He sang of Van Gogh, of Picasso Of Rembrandt, da Vinci He sang of Michelangelo He sang of sadness, pain He sang of My Lai, Sand Creek Of Guernica and Krystallnacht He cried and sang of Wounded Knee Of Katyn Forest, Sabra and Shatila Oh, he wept as he sang He sang of history and wonders He sang of Olduvai and pyramids Machu Picchu, Tikal, and Angkor Wat He sang of a great wall, the Taj Mahal Stonehenge, Easter Isle, Mesa Verde His song took us to them all He sang of courage A song of Bunker Hill, Gettysburg Of the Alamo, Normandy, Stalingrad Of Lincoln, Guevara and Dr. King He sang of Bolivar, Bhutto, Ghandi He shamed us with their song He sang his song... As women sighed and peasants cried He sang until the rifles fired, he died Songbirds fell from the sky Soldiers broke their guns on stones And marched into the deep blue sea. r ~ 4/12/14

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Apr 12, 2014

Apr 12, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC

Led down from the tower Head high and hands bound Blindfold declined against the wall Black square pinned to his heart Eyes afire and shining proud He sang... He sang of Caruso, Townes Van Zandt Pavarotti, Bocelli, Mercury, Carreras, he sang of Antoine, Of Sinatra, Lennon, Morrison, Redding He sang and songbirds paused in flight He sang like them all He sang a song of himself Of leaves of grass, of second comings Of Byron, and Bharti, and Cummings He sang of Neruda, and Plath, Tagore Dickinson, Kamala Das and Naidu Oh, he sang of them all He sang of art and beauty Of Mona Lisa and starry nights Girls in green dresses and pearls He sang of Van Gogh, of Picasso Of Rembrandt, da Vinci He sang of Michelangelo He sang of sadness, pain He sang of My Lai, Sand Creek Of Guernica and Krystallnacht He cried and sang of Wounded Knee Of Katyn Forest, Sabra and Shatila Oh, he wept as he sang He sang of history and wonders He sang of Olduvai and pyramids Machu Picchu, Tikal, and Angkor Wat He sang of a great wall, the Taj Mahal Stonehenge, Easter Isle, Mesa Verde His song took us to them all He sang of courage A song of Bunker Hill, Gettysburg Of the Alamo, Normandy, Stalingrad Of Lincoln, Guevara and Dr. King He sang of Bolivar, Bhutto, Ghandi He shamed us with their song He sang his song... As women sighed and peasants cried He sang until the rifles fired, he died Songbirds fell from the sky Soldiers broke their guns on stones And marched into the deep blue sea. r ~ 4/12/14

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*Incendiary passion that ignites an ember's flame Gone but not forgotten but t'is really not the same. I long for lips that hunger and the unrequited bliss The torch that sets the heart afire: the unexpected kiss.*

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Nov 21, 2017

Nov 21, 2017 at 10:35 AM UTC

The Unexpected Kiss

*Incendiary passion that ignites an ember's flame Gone but not forgotten but t'is really not the same. I long for lips that hunger and the unrequited bliss The torch that sets the heart afire: the unexpected kiss.*

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We can only afford to contain our fires Turning to... Soothsaying waters Soothsaying rain, empty out your bottles Irrigate from our heart puddles Let flow into a singular well An oasis where our hearts would kiss and silently tell Submerge us as one being The water milling and licking Kissing our warm skins Wash away as it purges and cleans Cleansing waters, wash and give birth Rid of the sadness to reveal the earth Of this earth, you and I are one Looking up to idolise the same sun Wedged between... This expanse of redundant land Pining for the mixing of our sands We... We are made of the same Earth, dirt and gravel placed in different games Bearing similar stones that beat Beating away the seconds that flit Earth biding time... Stay on ground Let wind take your souls to realms unbound Casting our souls into the wind Carved hearts on flags we pinned Kites of love set to catch the air Wind be kind... Carry us easy with care Gift us your gentle airy fingers As you would the sails of hopeful seafarers Together we would dance and billow Frolic upon your light feathered pillow Ride the wind, on wings that never tire Tiny bites that keep us afire Never needing a flint to set alive the flame Stoking the fire that burns on the same Rhymes and reasons be our fuel Combat logic and sense in a cerebral duel Fight in our eyes, subdued are the blazes Embers dormant behind glassy tearful gazes Spark them to life with passionate heat Fan them to rage till the time our hearts meet But still... We must contain our fires With nothing but soothsaying waters

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Aug 22, 2014

Aug 22, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC

We can only afford to contain our fires Turning to... Soothsaying waters Soothsaying rain, empty out your bottles Irrigate from our heart puddles Let flow into a singular well An oasis where our hearts would kiss and silently tell Submerge us as one being The water milling and licking Kissing our warm skins Wash away as it purges and cleans Cleansing waters, wash and give birth Rid of the sadness to reveal the earth Of this earth, you and I are one Looking up to idolise the same sun Wedged between... This expanse of redundant land Pining for the mixing of our sands We... We are made of the same Earth, dirt and gravel placed in different games Bearing similar stones that beat Beating away the seconds that flit Earth biding time... Stay on ground Let wind take your souls to realms unbound Casting our souls into the wind Carved hearts on flags we pinned Kites of love set to catch the air Wind be kind... Carry us easy with care Gift us your gentle airy fingers As you would the sails of hopeful seafarers Together we would dance and billow Frolic upon your light feathered pillow Ride the wind, on wings that never tire Tiny bites that keep us afire Never needing a flint to set alive the flame Stoking the fire that burns on the same Rhymes and reasons be our fuel Combat logic and sense in a cerebral duel Fight in our eyes, subdued are the blazes Embers dormant behind glassy tearful gazes Spark them to life with passionate heat Fan them to rage till the time our hearts meet But still... We must contain our fires With nothing but soothsaying waters

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No one knows it’s you I admire No one knows how you inspire No one knows we will conspire The hypnotic curve of your hips, The sultry red of your full lips, The caress of your finger tips These things all set my heart afire The way you smile when you touch me The way your soul reacts carefree The way you crave is plain to see There in sparkling eyes of sapphire The need in you as strong as mine The lust is thick as we entwine The passion seems hard to define We yield to ****** desires © Copyright 2012 Wm. Tracey Bakelar - All Rights Reserved

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Dec 15, 2013

Dec 15, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC

No one knows it’s you I admire No one knows how you inspire No one knows we will conspire The hypnotic curve of your hips, The sultry red of your full lips, The caress of your finger tips These things all set my heart afire The way you smile when you touch me The way your soul reacts carefree The way you crave is plain to see There in sparkling eyes of sapphire The need in you as strong as mine The lust is thick as we entwine The passion seems hard to define We yield to ****** desires © Copyright 2012 Wm. Tracey Bakelar - All Rights Reserved

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# *Come explore my fantasy with thrills and spills galore. Let’s check our inhibitions and our morals at the door. It's colorful and vigorous (No "Fifty Shades of Gray"). The safe word will be "rainbow"...(You won't need it anyway.) Because this fantasy's a realm where denizens can dwell In peace and love and kindredship, where greed has lost its spell. Within this dream of dreams we'll find our secret heart's desire. And with it will come happiness that sets the heart afire. A time to wake from bitter dreams and steer a course of grace. And with this resolution, any crisis we might face.* #

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Jun 2, 2018

Jun 2, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC

Magic Carpet Ride

# *Come explore my fantasy with thrills and spills galore. Let’s check our inhibitions and our morals at the door. It's colorful and vigorous (No "Fifty Shades of Gray"). The safe word will be "rainbow"...(You won't need it anyway.) Because this fantasy's a realm where denizens can dwell In peace and love and kindredship, where greed has lost its spell. Within this dream of dreams we'll find our secret heart's desire. And with it will come happiness that sets the heart afire. A time to wake from bitter dreams and steer a course of grace. And with this resolution, any crisis we might face.* #

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ed, i "don't" know what me and my "little bird" would do without you cause' "uni" "take it back" to "grade 8"as you " kiss me" under the light of "all of the stars" cause' "i see fire" when we both collide and this "lego house" we had built for me you and this "small bump" so please don't "runaway" but if you do i understand cause' "even my dad does sometimes" but don't fly away forever like a "firefly" cause in the mornin' we'll sip some "cold coffee" or we can get "drunk" and you could "give me love" but you'd have to "wake me up" cause after all i am on "the a team" watching as "one" of the "autumn leaves" fall slowly down and i realize that "im a mess" so please don't "runaway" we could take a "photograph" with "the man" and "Nina" or we could look at the "tenerife sea" while we acknowledge our "afire love" and then i will pull up my "shirtsleeves" and you can feel my "bloodstream" and maybe we could "sing" what? i guess this whole time i was "thinking out loud"

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May 24, 2015

May 24, 2015 at 6:53 PM UTC

a tribute to ed sheeran

ed, i "don't" know what me and my "little bird" would do without you cause' "uni" "take it back" to "grade 8"as you " kiss me" under the light of "all of the stars" cause' "i see fire" when we both collide and this "lego house" we had built for me you and this "small bump" so please don't "runaway" but if you do i understand cause' "even my dad does sometimes" but don't fly away forever like a "firefly" cause in the mornin' we'll sip some "cold coffee" or we can get "drunk" and you could "give me love" but you'd have to "wake me up" cause after all i am on "the a team" watching as "one" of the "autumn leaves" fall slowly down and i realize that "im a mess" so please don't "runaway" we could take a "photograph" with "the man" and "Nina" or we could look at the "tenerife sea" while we acknowledge our "afire love" and then i will pull up my "shirtsleeves" and you can feel my "bloodstream" and maybe we could "sing" what? i guess this whole time i was "thinking out loud"

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Put out my eyes, and I can see you still, Slam my ears to, and I can hear you yet; And without any feet can go to you; And tongueless, I can conjure you at will. Break off my arms, I shall take hold of you And grasp you with my heart as with a hand; Arrest my heart, my brain will beat as true; And if you set this brain of mine afire, Then on my blood-stream I yet will carry you.

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4.1k

Rainer Maria Rilke

Put out my Eyes

Put out my eyes, and I can see you still, Slam my ears to, and I can hear you yet; And without any feet can go to you; And tongueless, I can conjure you at will. Break off my arms, I shall take hold of you And grasp you with my heart as with a hand; Arrest my heart, my brain will beat as true; And if you set this brain of mine afire, Then on my blood-stream I yet will carry you.

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*wonder’s joyous heartfelt smile, beauty’s charming expressive style, delight’s enchanting debonair attire, whimsy’s gleeful intimacy afire, laughter’s voice lovesome glow, gentility’s engaging graceful show, love’s adoring kisses embrace, hope’s welcome inspiring grace, desire’s playful flirty glance, passion’s jubilant fleeting romance.*

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Nov 30, 2017

Nov 30, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC

*wonder’s joyous heartfelt smile, beauty’s charming expressive style, delight’s enchanting debonair attire, whimsy’s gleeful intimacy afire, laughter’s voice lovesome glow, gentility’s engaging graceful show, love’s adoring kisses embrace, hope’s welcome inspiring grace, desire’s playful flirty glance, passion’s jubilant fleeting romance.*

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her smile and tortoise shell glasses her picture perfect delicious curves scented by parisian roses she steps neatly into the bustling room and with just a hint of a smile she stops the room cold in it tracks as all heads turn and i must stop and smile to myself even the other girls desire to be in her arms even they dream for a moment of dancing in bed tonight she leans down and places a tender kiss on my cheek and the room slowly drifts back to its own dreams she a tender perfection worshipful and giving joys she sits with me and her tight jeans are soft and warm under my hand and i find myself fascinated by how she fills up my senses in a moment i make love to her essence on the air and passionately tenderly kiss her presence so near to me that it sets me afire she takes me as i take her

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Dec 21, 2013

Dec 21, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC

mark-john-junor-1

her smile and tortoise shell glasses her picture perfect delicious curves scented by parisian roses she steps neatly into the bustling room and with just a hint of a smile she stops the room cold in it tracks as all heads turn and i must stop and smile to myself even the other girls desire to be in her arms even they dream for a moment of dancing in bed tonight she leans down and places a tender kiss on my cheek and the room slowly drifts back to its own dreams she a tender perfection worshipful and giving joys she sits with me and her tight jeans are soft and warm under my hand and i find myself fascinated by how she fills up my senses in a moment i make love to her essence on the air and passionately tenderly kiss her presence so near to me that it sets me afire she takes me as i take her

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It no longer exists. The wind; a passing gale sweeps my laurels. The desert is filled, too many my voice. Origin, a return to birth. A sword of blazing fire, winged halts me. Where are you Eden? I look and look, the desert is filled with voices too many, which is mine or do i have any? The sun no weeps, I sing. Myself, I find, thick of leaves I carry, it sings no longer green. Winged fire sword ablaze, use I, leaves dry. Outstretched, brown, my arms, fail to sky afire. Feet my burns, I no walk longer. Stiff, I root my tree to flower. Fragrant white flowers, settle. Pray I to you, of hope I joy. Bring life to water, Frame of sky Bring, Abba, Father. (Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal - February 1, 2011)

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Jul 21, 2012

Jul 21, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC

Garden: Eviction

It no longer exists. The wind; a passing gale sweeps my laurels. The desert is filled, too many my voice. Origin, a return to birth. A sword of blazing fire, winged halts me. Where are you Eden? I look and look, the desert is filled with voices too many, which is mine or do i have any? The sun no weeps, I sing. Myself, I find, thick of leaves I carry, it sings no longer green. Winged fire sword ablaze, use I, leaves dry. Outstretched, brown, my arms, fail to sky afire. Feet my burns, I no walk longer. Stiff, I root my tree to flower. Fragrant white flowers, settle. Pray I to you, of hope I joy. Bring life to water, Frame of sky Bring, Abba, Father. (Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal - February 1, 2011)

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It's hard to hide a smile When you should feel defiled. Is it wrong to give my soul, act as a ***** in the bed and reconcile your acts as nothing but worthwhile? My skin and mind are afire we're lying side by side respirating shallowly admired, reviled and inspired I let myself wander with thoughts of our beguiled afternoon. Love affairs are seedy, needy and just without my lover I'd feel nothing but bile for the man I let slip a band on me. I want to stay awhile, but the room will be needed by the next coupling. And, until next time I have to veil my vile, yet necessary secret And that I do with guile and style.

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Apr 28, 2014

Apr 28, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC

Camellia-japonica

It's hard to hide a smile When you should feel defiled. Is it wrong to give my soul, act as a ***** in the bed and reconcile your acts as nothing but worthwhile? My skin and mind are afire we're lying side by side respirating shallowly admired, reviled and inspired I let myself wander with thoughts of our beguiled afternoon. Love affairs are seedy, needy and just without my lover I'd feel nothing but bile for the man I let slip a band on me. I want to stay awhile, but the room will be needed by the next coupling. And, until next time I have to veil my vile, yet necessary secret And that I do with guile and style.

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short legs patched jeans kicking leaves piled to my knees remembering color living in sea salt pines leaves little to imagine of autumn rhymes sweetgum sourwood birch sycamore and dogwood apple leaves beneath the plum tree ash hickory maple and oak mountains afire in Tennessee eyes closed smell of smoke- kicking leaves to the wind. r ~ 9/16/14

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Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC

short legs patched jeans kicking leaves piled to my knees remembering color living in sea salt pines leaves little to imagine of autumn rhymes sweetgum sourwood birch sycamore and dogwood apple leaves beneath the plum tree ash hickory maple and oak mountains afire in Tennessee eyes closed smell of smoke- kicking leaves to the wind. r ~ 9/16/14

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My family called me a demon That my love is just a phase They don't know what I'm feeling And if they pray it'll go away I'm a boy trapped in a woman You're a woman trapped in a boy When we cry every night til morning They'll just call us paranoid I will die someone other than myself If I can't live the way I need to I'm not a demon praying on someone else I'm just a human-being like you Someone fell in love with me on Sunday And I fell in love with them too We decided to get married on Monday We're chasing dreams, old and brand new Then one night, we opened the window To see pitchforks and torches set afire The pain is deep but little do they know A few drops of rain can never put out desire

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Jun 5, 2016

Jun 5, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC

My family called me a demon That my love is just a phase They don't know what I'm feeling And if they pray it'll go away I'm a boy trapped in a woman You're a woman trapped in a boy When we cry every night til morning They'll just call us paranoid I will die someone other than myself If I can't live the way I need to I'm not a demon praying on someone else I'm just a human-being like you Someone fell in love with me on Sunday And I fell in love with them too We decided to get married on Monday We're chasing dreams, old and brand new Then one night, we opened the window To see pitchforks and torches set afire The pain is deep but little do they know A few drops of rain can never put out desire

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Seven years I lived my life, fading from reality. Crossing into machinery. Robotics with which I am so unfamiliar. Machined, greased, lubricated parts. Built with a purpose. A meaningless purpose. Destined for failure. A broken down machine I stand. Sit. Lay. Run. Work. Play. Slide. Cursed and wretched as the demons which haunt the dreams of the fallen. I rise above. Skyrocketing through reason. Through the seventh layer of Heaven and Hell. On a false sense of cloud nine I currently float…awaiting the plummet. Its falling away from me. I sail through a shattered sea of broken glass. I closed my eyes and the tears could not flow. Blocked by my eyelids, restricting emotion. After all of this, I am amazed. The wall could be broken. Forgotten faded memories of which I have no say. Of past. Of present. Of gifts. Of futures. Of lists. Lists of black. Hit lists in my head. I live in my head. I am not what I wish. I am what I’m not. I am what I dream. A scream. A cry. Laying here, blank as the page on which I cannot create a scene. A scene behind my eyes, yet I cannot attain it on paper. These words flow meaninglessly, but not slow. Daedalus, Icarus, Thrice. Three times I roam. Randomized plains of thought, laid out on a digital page. Keys, not a pen. Ones and Zeros, not ink. Screens, not pages. Neat, not sloppy…yet my words do not understand one another… nor do I…. If we make the mainland, this song would not be made. Epic beauty, formed through misfortune and tragedy. Oh son…I beg you…keep a steady wing. For you are the only one who means anything to me. My wings are made of melting, shredding, fading elements. The sun, heating, lighting, someday dying. I understand that nothing is as it may seem. Nor is any seam as true as the seamstress believed. The Gods did not take the only thing which meant anything to you, father of legend. Your son is not dead…only afire. Acquired by the forces you believed to be merciful.

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Feb 8, 2012

Feb 8, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC

benjamin-aptaker

Seven years I lived my life, fading from reality. Crossing into machinery. Robotics with which I am so unfamiliar. Machined, greased, lubricated parts. Built with a purpose. A meaningless purpose. Destined for failure. A broken down machine I stand. Sit. Lay. Run. Work. Play. Slide. Cursed and wretched as the demons which haunt the dreams of the fallen. I rise above. Skyrocketing through reason. Through the seventh layer of Heaven and Hell. On a false sense of cloud nine I currently float…awaiting the plummet. Its falling away from me. I sail through a shattered sea of broken glass. I closed my eyes and the tears could not flow. Blocked by my eyelids, restricting emotion. After all of this, I am amazed. The wall could be broken. Forgotten faded memories of which I have no say. Of past. Of present. Of gifts. Of futures. Of lists. Lists of black. Hit lists in my head. I live in my head. I am not what I wish. I am what I’m not. I am what I dream. A scream. A cry. Laying here, blank as the page on which I cannot create a scene. A scene behind my eyes, yet I cannot attain it on paper. These words flow meaninglessly, but not slow. Daedalus, Icarus, Thrice. Three times I roam. Randomized plains of thought, laid out on a digital page. Keys, not a pen. Ones and Zeros, not ink. Screens, not pages. Neat, not sloppy…yet my words do not understand one another… nor do I…. If we make the mainland, this song would not be made. Epic beauty, formed through misfortune and tragedy. Oh son…I beg you…keep a steady wing. For you are the only one who means anything to me. My wings are made of melting, shredding, fading elements. The sun, heating, lighting, someday dying. I understand that nothing is as it may seem. Nor is any seam as true as the seamstress believed. The Gods did not take the only thing which meant anything to you, father of legend. Your son is not dead…only afire. Acquired by the forces you believed to be merciful.

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*The little flower and her greed She raises her head before the sun Sun’s might she pays no heed! The little flower and her greed She stands up bold against the wind From her home in the **** She has her home in the **** But her color bright catches sight Longing eyes she does feed! She has her home in the **** She sets minds in color afire It’s her purpose it’s her need! She does it for her need Sending all her hearty greet Never minding caste or creed! She minds not caste or creed Her glory is not demeaned Though her birth is in the **** She is born a weed’s flower Endless is her might She holds sun in her power!*

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Nov 15, 2013

Nov 15, 2013 at 5:58 AM UTC

pradip-chattopadhyay

*The little flower and her greed She raises her head before the sun Sun’s might she pays no heed! The little flower and her greed She stands up bold against the wind From her home in the **** She has her home in the **** But her color bright catches sight Longing eyes she does feed! She has her home in the **** She sets minds in color afire It’s her purpose it’s her need! She does it for her need Sending all her hearty greet Never minding caste or creed! She minds not caste or creed Her glory is not demeaned Though her birth is in the **** She is born a weed’s flower Endless is her might She holds sun in her power!*

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People's lives are like far away places and all we can see are their faces and faint traces and flashes of their soul when it seeps through the cracks because it crashes at it's outmost edges. It's as though we nearly think that their soul is what they do, but no and neither is it who they claim to be, or show, it is where they have been, and where they shall go. We gasp for air, we grasp it there that others must breathe too. Somehow storms still shock us with their might, somehow even when i dont want to, breathing feels right Somehow i know that i was breathed to life somehow sparks that set afire, though they consumed all i was, became small sprouts of life to spire, from the hardest dirt i'd ever seen, when i was the worst man I had ever been they stalked my essence in the ashes, saw through all of the smudges, scratches, held me up to light and saw, an image etched, demanding awe, there it was, but with blurred edges, the image of My god implanted, seed within my soul to bear, the harshest winds, the hottest air. So, as above, so below even stars search for somewhere to go In me, i see my friend, In my friends I see my end, in my end i see beginning, so long as the earth is spinning, and when finally it stops, when we've all forgotten clocks, then in heaven as on earth, shall we know that all has worth, and remember then shall we, all the roots, of life, the tree.

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Sep 5, 2014

Sep 5, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC

as above, so below.

People's lives are like far away places and all we can see are their faces and faint traces and flashes of their soul when it seeps through the cracks because it crashes at it's outmost edges. It's as though we nearly think that their soul is what they do, but no and neither is it who they claim to be, or show, it is where they have been, and where they shall go. We gasp for air, we grasp it there that others must breathe too. Somehow storms still shock us with their might, somehow even when i dont want to, breathing feels right Somehow i know that i was breathed to life somehow sparks that set afire, though they consumed all i was, became small sprouts of life to spire, from the hardest dirt i'd ever seen, when i was the worst man I had ever been they stalked my essence in the ashes, saw through all of the smudges, scratches, held me up to light and saw, an image etched, demanding awe, there it was, but with blurred edges, the image of My god implanted, seed within my soul to bear, the harshest winds, the hottest air. So, as above, so below even stars search for somewhere to go In me, i see my friend, In my friends I see my end, in my end i see beginning, so long as the earth is spinning, and when finally it stops, when we've all forgotten clocks, then in heaven as on earth, shall we know that all has worth, and remember then shall we, all the roots, of life, the tree.

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An opaque kiss, crept over his spirit, Drifted with petal-like grace, spilled warm In forget-me-not pastels; He enters The Dream'...... The soft breath of night Dusts lash-bound eyes with dream; There, Night mists wander a lace like solitude, Lost in euphoric infinity, Where his blue ripples speak waterfalls Pooling to silence... The moon tossed down a shimmering cloth, Her Midas light, turning his limbs to gold; A name, echoed softly, like river minutes, A winding breath, a tingled song of awakening, Of lullaby in whispers and nuance, Ghost-kissing the curve of an aching thigh... Crave induced, The magic in her hip-sway, crossed The arch of his dreams; Where she flowed half-held by darkness; A garnet flame flickering the Tussled locks of Autumn stained hair, Trailing her skin, like eager limbs parting A dream horizon's shore... Her impish August skin, Bathed him in words that woke his willing flesh, Tracing the haunted subtlety of desire; Here, amongst the echoes of the pulsing night, Heart to heart, breath to breath, Her fingers tenderly caressed delicate dreams on the silken hardness Of his shadow serenade... Passion coursed his blood, an esoteric tune Suckled the sweet sutra; Her taste, Burning the star of his mouth, Tasting the breath of moan, A song, Hovering like a silver bauble, drifting in past breaths, Sinking into chaotic bliss, deepening the eclipse of seductive fusion... His face, dark, breathed hot upon her psyche, A captive heart beating against his palm; "Be Mine" unfolds, While "Yours" is spread wide, refractive on skin, A brand, where fingers trace hips, slowly swallowing hidden breath; His tongue slide, afire with the heat of a thousand suns, and Rose tinted limbs scream, with eyes closed, And he watches as she burns....... Love came quietly as a whispered dream.........

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Aug 29, 2012

Aug 29, 2012 at 2:18 PM UTC

An opaque kiss, crept over his spirit, Drifted with petal-like grace, spilled warm In forget-me-not pastels; He enters The Dream'...... The soft breath of night Dusts lash-bound eyes with dream; There, Night mists wander a lace like solitude, Lost in euphoric infinity, Where his blue ripples speak waterfalls Pooling to silence... The moon tossed down a shimmering cloth, Her Midas light, turning his limbs to gold; A name, echoed softly, like river minutes, A winding breath, a tingled song of awakening, Of lullaby in whispers and nuance, Ghost-kissing the curve of an aching thigh... Crave induced, The magic in her hip-sway, crossed The arch of his dreams; Where she flowed half-held by darkness; A garnet flame flickering the Tussled locks of Autumn stained hair, Trailing her skin, like eager limbs parting A dream horizon's shore... Her impish August skin, Bathed him in words that woke his willing flesh, Tracing the haunted subtlety of desire; Here, amongst the echoes of the pulsing night, Heart to heart, breath to breath, Her fingers tenderly caressed delicate dreams on the silken hardness Of his shadow serenade... Passion coursed his blood, an esoteric tune Suckled the sweet sutra; Her taste, Burning the star of his mouth, Tasting the breath of moan, A song, Hovering like a silver bauble, drifting in past breaths, Sinking into chaotic bliss, deepening the eclipse of seductive fusion... His face, dark, breathed hot upon her psyche, A captive heart beating against his palm; "Be Mine" unfolds, While "Yours" is spread wide, refractive on skin, A brand, where fingers trace hips, slowly swallowing hidden breath; His tongue slide, afire with the heat of a thousand suns, and Rose tinted limbs scream, with eyes closed, And he watches as she burns....... Love came quietly as a whispered dream.........

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We set their air afire, Just as they'd set our ships Afire, So, With a great killing, We brought to a stop, Their killing, A fairly rapid stop, Perhaps too fast a stop, Too fast for some, For sure, But who could know, That these horrendous things, Would come to pass but once more, Thankfully. And now that bell tolls yearly, Its lonely voice sings “Never again,” “We hope.” Let us be sad For those who died, But let us not regret. Their deaths bought life, For others Who did not have to fight. Let revisionists glory in their guilt, Their guilt is not ours. We can pay our respects To Enola Gay, And to this day Say “well done.”

0

Aug 9, 2012

Aug 9, 2012 at 9:18 PM UTC

Hiroshima - August 6, 2012

We set their air afire, Just as they'd set our ships Afire, So, With a great killing, We brought to a stop, Their killing, A fairly rapid stop, Perhaps too fast a stop, Too fast for some, For sure, But who could know, That these horrendous things, Would come to pass but once more, Thankfully. And now that bell tolls yearly, Its lonely voice sings “Never again,” “We hope.” Let us be sad For those who died, But let us not regret. Their deaths bought life, For others Who did not have to fight. Let revisionists glory in their guilt, Their guilt is not ours. We can pay our respects To Enola Gay, And to this day Say “well done.”

Continue reading...