"aflame" poems
Oh, bucolic pastorale,
Dawn brings a carnival,
Golden-pink, sunrise hues,
What a wonder for our view,
Dawn draws back her veil,
Night vanishes, sunlight's grail,
Our skies aflame,
End nocturnal games,
Oh, bucolic pastorale,
Dawn brings her carnival.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
alone this time
Past seeping into you
Abuse painted over exposed
Stars burn my eyes
You see yourself
Breath of smoke
Lungs aflame
biting her ****** lip
she saw the world
Clasped the basketball with her left
Her pride with her right
Far away it seems
And I shout to her
but she never looked back
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 4:19 AM UTC
She controls her laughter,
lets it slip from the edge of her mouth,
the corners of her lips lift ever so slightly,
then, she makes a sound,
seamlessly, her fingers graze my thighs,
smoothly, her eyes meet mine,
and in her eyes, I see my reflection—
aflame, abashed, and fiery,
She is the answer I’ve scoured the world for,
and yet, she, herself, remains a mystery,
Ah, I see,
She controls her laughter
as easily as she controls me.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
Tonight I will fall down upon my knees
To pray before the goddess of enchanted ebony
Her divine rays of dark beauty I embrace
Bathing blissfully in her enigmatic grace
I enter the sanctum
Her sacred place of healing
Ecstasy consumes me
Enraptured by the feeling
When the Moon of the Black Goddess
Shines Her light upon me
Then the Love of the Black Goddess
Drowns the world around me
Tonight I worship at the Temple of Her Light
I sacrifice my flesh to the goddess shining bright
The fire in my soul erupts and sets aflame my mind
On holy nights like these when the cosmos re-aligns
I enter the sanctum
Her sacred place of healing
Ecstasy consumes me
Enraptured by the feeling
When the Moon of the Black Goddess
Shines Her light upon me
Then the Lust of the Black Goddess
Burns the world around me
I submit myself to Her, naked and unguarded
Prepared to be consumed and then possibly discarded
For in her presence, all the evil in our pale existence
Vanishes from memory in a single instant
I enter the sanctum
Her sacred place of healing
Ecstasy consumes me
Enraptured by the feeling
When the Moon of the Black Goddess
Shines Her light upon me
Then the Mists of the Black Goddess
Shroud the world around me
The Moon of the Black Goddess
Cast thy spell upon me
The Moon of the Black Goddess
Looming right above me
The Moon of the Black Goddess
I give my flesh to worship thee!
For the Moon of the Black Goddess
Is the only place
I can find peace!
When the Moon of the Black Goddess
Shines Her light into me
Then the Tune of the Black Goddess
Becomes the song to set me free!
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
*Jis Ki Janib Woh Nazar Apni Uttha Lete Hain
Uss Ki Soyee Hui Taqdeer Jaga Dete Hain*
**Towards whom they raise their glance
His resting destiny they awaken in a trance**
*Teri Duzdeeda Nigahon Ko Dua Dete Hain
Jitne Chubte Hain Yeh Teer Utna Maza Dete Hain*
**For your peeking gazes, I pray
The more these arrows wound, the more delighted I lay**
*Jab Se Dekha Hai Unhein Apna Mujhe Hosh Nahin
Jane Kya Cheez Woh Nazroon Se Pila Dete Hain*
**Ever since them I saw, senseless I have become
What they pour from their glances, a mystery it has become**
*Takht Kya Cheez Hai Aur Laal-o-Jawahir Kya Hai
Ishq Wale To Khudai Bhi Loota Dete Hain*
**What is a throne and what are lustrous jewels?
Lovers surrender divinity against the rules**
*Aik Din Aisa Bhi Ata Hai Mohabbat Mein Zaroor
Khud Ko Ghabra Ke Naqab Apna Uttah Lete Hain*
**There is one such moment in love, indeed!
With nervousness, they raise their veil**
*Apni Barbadi Pe Khush Hoon Yeh Suna Hai Jabse
Woh Jisse Apna Samajhte Hain Mitta Dete Hain*
**Happy with my own ruin I am, ever since I have learned
Who they consider their own, obliterated have turned**
*Apne Daman Ko Zara Aap Bacha Kar Rakhna
Sakhat Aahon Se Bhi Hum Aag Laga Dete Hain*
**Your own hem a little, you save and claim
With deep sighs, we set the fire aflame**
*Jis Ki Janib Woh Nazar Apni Uttha Lete Hain
Uss Ki Soyee Hui Taqdeer Jaga Dete Hain*
**Towards whom they raise their glance
His resting destiny they awaken in a trance**
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 8:34 AM UTC
Purple is often misunderstood
People confuse it with pink or blue
They cannot comprehend change
The synthesis of something new
Purple has been picked to pieces
Analyzed with Pantone paint chip cards
The public is vexed, this defiance of ***
Twirled around by color guards
They say that violet delights have violent ends
That from this “choice,” there’s no return
But they’re the ones who set us aflame
And we, in their triumph, burn
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
She seems pretty queer
Yes she does
Something odd
Something peculiar
Is it in her insouciance
Is it in her audacity
Is it in her pirouettes
Spun with such vivacity
Is it in her defiance
Is it in her nonrepentance
Is it in her reveling so free
A form full of glee
Sometimes impetuous
All times ingenuous
Aflame with passion
An immersive intoxication
Cracking down on this mystery
A perplexing dichotomy
Let's remove the misfitting pieces
In sync with commonplace notions
Alas what dismantling of a girl
at peace with her pieces
What uprooting of a girl
at home in her body
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 1:22 AM UTC
“We could be gods amongst mortals"
“Why be a god when the earth gave me you?”
His slight whisper
Another’s warmth on my hand
Body sculpted like those of gods
Engraved into my own
He is very humane; -
He is gravity;
Retain me against ascending
Pummel my sins
He is water;
Take away my thirst
Drown me when greed takes over
And I am grounded,
I am thirsty,
Lain earthbound onto the ground at his side
Heart aflame far away from Mount Olympus
I am still only ** human.**
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
The keyboard on my laptop has witnessed too many tear drops
Fall upon it's ebony skin as I type,
Each articulation of painful thoughts
And agonisingly catastrophic formation of words
Forcing another wave of grief to pour from these
empty blue eyes of mine.
I have tried to keep my head above the water,
To contain the wildfire in my head
That threatens to spread and burn under my veins,
Aflame in every single bone in this hollow body
But now it seems comforting to let myself slip
Beneath the surface,
To let the fire turn everything to ashes.
It feels better this way,
To be a chaotic mess.
At least I know how beautiful I'll be when I open up my heart and mind to the possibility of destruction.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
He is narcissist of highest character
is sunshine that is so smug
with its
wide smile
and rays that
poison
yet sunshine is
still your happiness
he is holder of many hearts
he likes to clutch them like
soft baby skin
to his soft chest
and feel the
beating and
warm gush
of blood
against
him
it feeds him
some say
like your eyes
never could
like the spark
that
pumped
like the
breath never could
that
beating
marvel
never could
like you
never could
he tells you that he has always loved the sun
you believe it is because he
sees himself when he
stares at it
in the reflection of the
car door
it slams behind him
as he steps over the
threshold
he does not whisper
of how your lips
were the key to his
he does not let his tongue
trail across your aching chest
as he murmurs
of how
you are the sun
baby
you shine so bright
baby
your skin is so soft
baby
sometimes you believe he has forgotten
that he was once you
was once the boy who lied
beneath the hungry tiger
and let its jaws
wrap upon his neck
and squeeze
sometimes
gentle narcissist
is he,
he likes to hold you to his chest
to feel your heart
and whispers about how
beautiful
you are
and how he
doesn't care
a pang shoots through your chest
and you feel tears leaking from you
you feel as if he has betrayed you
and then he
puts down your heart
looks you in the eye
and says
I don't love you for your beauty
baby
I love you for the fire
that spurs my wind
and
darkness that
sets my
skin aflame
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 6:08 AM UTC
I feel decompressed and lethargic,
as I continue scrolling through my online soul only to see a kind-hearted person now nostalgic.
Why can't we all feel the same?
Why does the world seem to be aflame?
It's because we all try to accomplish being perfect,
and when we spot "convicts" we don't even detect we inflict neglect.
The thought of unity is fading away as is the hippie way,
a late anniversary bouquet whittling away,
a smoking cigarette left around the ashtray, dying this midsummers day.
Why is this thought so crazy anyway?
The change starts internally,
and can only be finished by an honest community,
one where we can all live with our acquired mental immunity.
Finally, peace sets within our unity.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
A hippodrome as smoke adjourn
those can wrap Havanas blunt
while Manila fish for sordino
they reek of harvest yet exhume Moro
then San Mateo shall not a maraschino bane
whether they've sought bastion in Italy then
once their hopes shall keep ships ahoy
and Sabatini sing San Marino here
that sandcastle star await his lover in
"The Sea Hawk" a fine costume whence sail
those Antilles with a conquistador as buttress
in this play they call Those Philippines alas meet
El Duarte in a duet with his song set aflame with
great sleeves in such kleptocracy worldwide again.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
I am wheat
I cry, I cry
Again
You leave your dead
At my feet
Oh why, oh why
At Gettysburg
We cried
Again, again
They rose and died
Below our stalks
They lie, they lie
From Stalingrad
To Leningrad
One million dead, one million dead
The Panzers came
Wheat fields aflame
They burned, they burned
And once again
You leave your dead
Ukraine, Ukraine
Oh, Putin's shame
The innocent lie
In wheat, in wheat.
r ~ 7/19/14
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
In blood, a precious cake dancing
aflame in whirlpool of
cyclopean darkness.
The triggers of sanguinary
guns are tumbling down tears,
sorrow and grief in gush on
the cliff of darkness.
The moon, a crimson cake of
venom toasting blind sun in
gory rays as stars twinkling
blood at dawn.
The orphan profusely wailing
for peace in her own bizarre
carnage in bazaar of iniquity
and rivers of blood.
Let the world stop this blood
Lest this blood stops the world!
©2018 KAYODE STEVE ADARAMOYE
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
.
Quiet! Shhh!
Can you hear it?
The animals are talking.
No, they are panicking.
Can you smell it?
The Forest is on fire.
My Forest is aflame!
I run, following nostrils singed with heat,
against the tide of the fleeing fauna.
Reaching the blaze I see....
eight of them.
My anger rises and erupts.
'STOP!' I bellow. They turn and draw swords.
My eyes narrow and a look of pure disdain unfolds.
I continue.
'I am Rook, Lord of the Forest Kingdom.
How dare you, enter my domain with no permission
and reek havoc on my Forest'.
A step is taken, toward me.
The eyes of a fighter glower, at me.
The point of a sword raises, threatening me.
I punish.
'For your transgressions and your destruction
you shall stand as stones, for eternity,
and as a warning to others'.
A scream pierces the air as a foot,
then another, compresses to rock.
The rest join the chorus, agony,
as each become statues,
twisted and contorted as
the Ancient Oaks they had destroyed.
My Oaks.
This is my Anger.
Would you care to see my Love?
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
I gulp down an Energy-Booster-X,
blue and sour.
Siri turns on Radiohead,
15 Step.
I step up to the pyramid of treadmills,
bouncing and salty.
Surrounded by Greek gods,
Beta, Alpha Gam, Pike.
I motivate myself by my surroundings,
bulging and ****
Cardio first and then core,
2 miles, 200 crunches.
I connect my sweat in a line down my shirt,
blotchy and stagnant.
Everyone stretches in the end,
Thighs, biceps, pecs aflame.
I will not stop until I am perfection,
beautiful and sculpted.
Alarm set again,
For 6:30am, 7:30pm
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
Your hair was full of roses in the dewfall as we danced,
The sorceress enchanting and the paladin entranced,
In the starlight as we wove us in a web of silk and steel
Immemorial as the marble in the halls of Boabdil,
In the pleasuance of the roses with the fountains and the yews
Where the snowy Sierra soothed us with the breezes and the dews!
In the starlight as we trembled from a laugh to a caress,
And the God came warm upon us in our pagan allegresse.
Was the Baile de la Bona too seductive? Did you feel
Through the silence and the softness all the tension of the steel?
For your hair was full of roses, and my flesh was full of thorns,
And the midnight came upon us worth a million crazy morns.
Ah! my Gipsy, my Gitana, my Saliya! were you fain
For the dance to turn to earnest? - O the sunny land of Spain!
My Gitana, my Saliya! more delicious than a dove!
With your hair aflame with roses and your lips alight with love!
Shall I see you, shall I kiss you once again? I wander far
From the sunny land of summer to the icy Polar Star.
I shall find you, I shall have you! I am coming back again
From the filth and fog to seek you in the sunny land of Spain.
I shall find you, my Gitana, my Saliya! as of old
With your hair aflame with roses and your body gay with gold.
I shall find you, I shall have you, in the summer and the south
With our passion in your body and our love upon your mouth -
With our wonder and our worship be the world aflame anew!
My Gitana, my Saliya! I am coming back to you!
6.6k
You were supposed to love me til death do us apart.
But Then you let go and decided to trample my heart.
You've turned love into a lie and made heartbreak a work of art.
It was something I should have seen coming from the very start.
I was so foolish. Choosing someone like you wasn't at all very smart.
I fell in love with you because I knew your heart and knew who you were.
Now everything good about you has been wiped away, now a blur.
When I told you I loved you I meant it. I didn't stutter nor slur.
Now, after all is said and done I wish this charade had never occurred.
My heart, soul, time and tears were all taken advantage of.
Oh, how you lied to me because what you offered was never love.
In spite of the suffering I went through by you, I still considered you sent from above.
You disregard the times I treated you like a queen, when you were my white dove.
When my heart utterly melted for you. When your beauty was my treasure trove.
Now that its all over, you've given love a bad name.
Now that its over, I'll never look at it the same.
Love is no longer beautiful. Its a disgrace, a pity, a game.
Because of you Ill probably never find true love and that's a real shame.
However, I do hope someday I can find another that'll light my heart aflame.
But for now its a darkness a void. Because of you that's what love has became.
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 9:02 AM UTC
No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile
readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...
a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on, shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.
sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words, a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....
a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 29, 2017
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Thread knuckles into notches of your spine,
you were mine.
Held down as carotid fought hard,
to keep open your eye.
Staring vivid as clouds overtook.
I can taste you through your musk,
hear the quivering in your thigh.
Stomach acids crawled into your nose,
and petals bloom. Belly aflame,
throat bleat with each beat.
As vision tunneled from expanse
to pinhole spindle of our room.
Bared teeth like a wild animal,
eyes wide with excitement.
If you could breathe a word your smile soon'd fade.
Porcelain comtesse *** undress with maroon'd face.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:36 AM UTC
My mother always told me
not to play with fire
and to avoid evil friends
who want to conspire
listen to my conscience
set my heart aflame
be obedient,
kind like Jesus
Him I acclaim,
for reflecting
the Lord's Image,
satan does flee
where God resides
in hell's where the demons
should be because where
Jesus' Kingdom is,
we are there ...
it's also at hand when
we lift hearts in prayer.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Poppies blossom like open cuts.
Ripe and red, they fill the air
With a cloying sweetness
So potent anyone downwind
Must shut their eyes and breathe
Through open mouths. Tasting
The breath of flowers, they grow
Nauseous and afraid.
The fields sway in the hot breeze
Until they resemble an ocean aflame -
It is here, among these poppies, I have
Found the blood of the Earth.
It is moist and toxic, an acid eating away the soles
Of all that wade through it.
How many gaunt, pale bundles of bone
Rest below these soft, red petals?
No one dares to count.
People do not fear such
Lovely things - if they’ve only seen
Pictures. How nice it must be
To know nothing of poppies
But their color, their shape.
They seem almost beautiful -
But you know better.
You have stood waist deep in the
Malignant fields, breathing the air
That slowed your limbs -
Turning your arms and legs into pendulums
Swaying to the beat of the buds
That encircle them -
Until you knelt, weighed down,
Nearly submerged by saccharine terrors,
And cried, hoping the water leaking from your heart
Would put out the fires you find yourself embracing.
After all, during the darker hours
Any light is better than no light at all
(Or so something whispers in your tired ear).
You know the horror of poppies -
But still you have yet to plunge
Past the black eyes of those red beasts -
For when the wind blows clean, cold
Air to you what do you do?
You raise your arms and let yourself
Feel as though you can fly -
And one day…one day
You will look down
And see yourself above
A ground free of poppies.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
I look at the fractured streets
littered with broken promises
peeling billboards peddling luxury to the wrong audience
the contorted vertebrae of this country's spine
and I mourn
the death of the American Dream.
I see it lying at my feet with every step
like the broken-winged bird from childhood fables.
"Fix me," she wheezes.
I tried once, but it died in my hands.
Apparently,
"The Dream" used to be two cars
but now it's two good fists
the wisdom to know when enough is enough
and the strength to say it.
I was born too late to remember anything else.
Here lies the American Dream,
bruised and battered by those who vowed to protect her
doused in oil and set aflame
by misdirection
misdemeanors
and Miss Universe.
Here lies the American Dream
who was born from revolution
and died in its absence
who waited for a day that never came
who lived long enough to see the fruit of her labor
become a raisin in the sun.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
Sheer passion, laden layers after
dense layers was the lake,deep blue,
His hidden heart was all aflame,
in anticipation of her, his hurricane,
the wildest girl in town, hard to get,
yet he acts placid on the surface
one'd see just gently billowing waves.
The hurricane has never known any
such guile, hiding passion.Her eyes
wide and ***** flashing lightening,
cloudy hair disheveled and flying
she comes heavily down on her passive lover.
rebounds to come back with more force
that'd tell how intense her passion runs,
churning water goes up in a swirl and
dance with her passion,how spectacular
is their union, sky and earth look on
with bated breath, this ebullient **********
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC