"burneth" poems
Just as the sun doth kiss the sapphire waves,
Who clash so fiercely the frontier sand,
As steady as Ra ascends the sky,
Golden beams of life to Mother Earth.
As certain as these occurrences do come,
So burneth my love for thee.
Days do arrive lacking the kiss of gold,
Heaven’s cobble may obscure the way,
Betrayal of sight whispering lies,
Imperceptible, yet forever present.
As lover’s quarrels appear so dim,
Devotion will prevail evermore.
When the sun blesses earth no more,
As the moon flees the inky grasp,
Stars shall perish in fiery abandon,
And lasts mortal breaths gasp out.
From walls pebbled with precious gems,
My soul still brims passion for you.
Darkest of Angels doth flit nearby,
His hand claims souls with each moment,
Heaving lives from misery on Earth,
Into eternities o’ Heav’n or Hell.
Saint Peter shall summon mine epitaph,
Embrace me then, in our feathered grasps.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
i.
Into her warmth
Into her warmth;
Is where I seeketh to be.
ii.
Into her soul
Mine home;
Abode,
Where I canst be alive
And free.
iii.
Into her warmth
O' the place of her torch;
That burneth brightly and free.
iv.
Into her soul
Mine safety abode;
Where there's a spiritual bed
For Me and mine queen.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley-Filipino rose dedication
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
Tea: Jamil, in the soft breath of dawn,
I am the whisper that healeth, that’s drawn
From the quiet depths of forgotten dreams,
A balm for the heart where silence gleams.
I hold thee close with love that is slow,
Like a river’s song, gentle and low.
Yet on Saturdays, I see thee depart,
To the fire that stealeth thy wandering heart.
She calleth with a fervor, a scorching desire,
Whilst I, the shadow, wait, untouched by fire.
Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?
I am the flame that maketh thee glow.
Her touch may soothe, her peace may bind,
But I am the tempest that frees thy mind.
I stir thee deep where secrets dwell,
In the heat of passion, I break the spell.
Once a week, thou dost return to me,
And in mine arms, thou art truly free.
Her silence may cradle thee in sleep,
But I am the pulse, the heart that leaps.
Tea: But Jamil, dost thou not feel the grace
That I weave around thee in this place?
I am the quiet that holdeth thee near,
The balm for thy soul, the voice sincere.
She burneth with a passion that blindeth thy sight,
But I am the dusk, the still of the night.
When thy heart is weary, when thoughts collide,
It is I who still thee, a place to hide.
She is the fire, but I am the rain,
The softness that sooth’th thy deepest pain.
Coffee: Jamil, thou art blind to see—
In my fire, thy soul shall be.
Her touch may cradle thee with care,
But I am the wind that stirreth the air.
She whispereth peace, but I roar with power,
I am the lightning, the midnight hour.
Once a week, thou dost call my name,
And in my heat, thou find’st no shame.
She giveth thee rest, but I giveth thee life,
The pulse that cutteth through all thy strife.
Tea: Yet, Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find
A peace that quieteth the storm in thy mind?
I am the silence between each sigh,
The softest breath that maketh thee fly.
She may burn bright with her fire and flame,
But I am the root that calleth thy name.
When the world is cruel, when the heart is lost,
It is I who heal thee, whatever the cost.
She is the storm, but I am the earth,
The place where love findeth its rebirth.
Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?
I am the pulse that maketh thee grow.
Her calm may cradle thee, but I ignite
The flame that burneth through the endless night.
Once a week, thou dost seek my fire,
In mine embrace, thou dost never tire.
She cradles thee in soft repose,
But I am the ache, the longing that grows.
Tea: Still, Jamil, dost thou not see,
In mine silence, thy soul is free?
I am the lullaby that maketh thee dream,
The quiet touch, the steady stream.
She is the fire that consumeth and taketh,
But I am the love that gently breaketh.
When thou art lost, when thy heart is torn,
It is I who will guide thee, reborn.
She is the tempest, the wild, the flame,
But I am the refuge, the place of shame.
Coffee: Jamil, thou dost not understand,
I am the fire, the burning hand.
Her touch is soft, but mine is raw,
The wild desire, the heart's deep flaw.
Once a week, thou dost seek my flame,
And in my heat, thou dost find thy name.
She whispereth peace, but I am the cry,
That maketh thee break the chains and fly.
Tea: O’ Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find
A peace that settl’th the restless mind?
I am the thread that bindeth thee whole,
The gentle calm, the quiet soul.
She may burn bright, but I am the dawn,
The steady light that carrieth thee on.
Return to me when the world is loud,
For I am the shadow, the softest cloud.
Coffee: Together, Jamil, we maketh thee complete,
I am the fire, she is the beat.
Thou need’st both to stir thy soul,
The calm, the storm, the part, the whole.
In my flame, thou dost find thy way,
In her peace, thou shalt stay.
For in each sip, thy soul shall learn—
Both the fire and silence return.
Tea: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not see?
In mine stillness, both fire and peace shall be.
I am the balm that healeth the wound,
The steady heart, the sacred tune.
Her flames may rise, her heat may burn,
But I am the river that letteth thee return.
In each moment, in each sigh,
We are both the fire and the sky.
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 1:42 PM UTC
How shalt I express
The love of the burning candle
That burneth in the fire of adulations
As the hours pass by
My quiet eyes follow yours
As if they understand everything thou convey
As the hours pass by
My skin feels thy delicate gestures
As if the boredom caught upon the wings of fairytale
As the hours pass by
My heart hath the safe secure feelings
As if I can sleep on thy shoulders f'r ever
As the hours pass by
My mind observes thy being
As if thy being is a completeness of mine
And as such the candle burns
Day and night in thoughts of you
I burn in silent adulations
Adoring the quiet romance
Of thy silent eyes.
© Dr. Prerna Singla,15 Apr. 2015
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
God,make my life a little light,
Within the world to glow;
A little flame that burneth bright,
Where ever I may go.
God make my life a little flower,
That giveth joy to all,
Content to bloom in native bower,
Altough the place be small.
God make my life a little song,
That comforteth the sad,
that helpth others to be strong,
and makes the singer glad
- almighty emperor(premanand)
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
~
*Hear me, and heed my woe,
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
how thy smileth reaches
thy eyen and
crinkles the c'rn'rs
immensely.
Thy confidence, a flame
yond burneth with f'rvent might,
intimidating, yet draweth me in,
as moth to candle's lighteth.
Thy passion is contagious,
thy excitement a thrill,
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
but mem'ries ling'r still
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
as thee gazeth into mine own eyen
bef're our lips meeteth
our intimate moments,
a sensual rapture,
thy corse, a w'rk of art,
sculpt'd p'rfectly in all its
muscular stature
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
the way we w're,
young with a future,
we couldst not seeth.
What ifs and maybes,
a maze, i tryeth to escapeth,
longing f'r what couldst've been,
a heart yond acheth.
Ev'ry fare thee well,
a pang in mine own chest,
feareth of nev'r seeing thee again,
and all yond is repress'd
Thy absence, a weight
yond i doth striveth to shaketh,
wond'ring wh're thou art,
what thou dost maketh.
Art thou joyous, art thou free from careth?
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
yet some days, 'tis hard to beareth.
In sooth,
i am not depress'd,
n'r doth i feeleth the blues, wh'reupon
i f'rce myself to not bethink on Thee …
by mineth owneth shall, anon.*
~
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 9:29 AM UTC
i.
I wilt plunge neath thine cocoa covered pupil's,
I seeketh to succumb, to thee;
Mine poetess minstrel;
ii.
I wilt incessantly be patient for thee
Mine queen; O' how heavily this heart weigh's;
With thou so far, so far away.
iii.
Please cometh quickly mine amour', for thee I'm engraved,
Etched into thine bone's, thy skin, thy name;
iv.
We art not other's, not the "norm", not the same: for this heart burneth in flame's, O' with thee far away;
v.
If I dieth tonight, or the earth crisps away, please knoweth I'll still waiteth, for thee mine queen; Beyond the grave.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
truth burneth bright
in the furnace of night
where
the blacksmith
forge words of truth
into a mighty sword
thus
pound white hot iron
into a shield of armor
to fight
in the army of God
truth burneth bright
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
1 Life’s melody plucketh on broken strings,
2 When thou visage pulsates songs of passion;
3 Resonating frail music thy tongue springs,
4 Thee’s faltered core of fettered intentions.
5 Through rain I burneth, in thou radiance chill,
6 Thy mind defeats what thy heart embattles;
7 If pain lingers sweet, I benumb to feel,
8 And feed ceaseless bane and boon entangles.
9 Lest thee feeling withers, I recompense,
10 The gaiety of life in thy love’s commend;
11 To abhor the horror, erase the tense,
12 And finally embark to last the end.
13 Though Uterpe’s shut, Cupid’s arrow broke,
14 Our hearts shall sing rhythm, love will uncloak.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 5:39 AM UTC
and just like the young and foolish icarus
we, too, had the confidence
of the wings that gives us flight
and we, too, have soared the same sky as he did
and failed to reach our ******
for the sun, with its radiance
burneth the wings we have made for us
and plummet us into an ocean
the never-ending abyss of blue
and the inevitable void
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC
This candle burneth down low,
Who shall respark it for me eh?
Who shall make the wax drip,
HOTT,
Dripping from chest to soul!!!
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
Oh that thou wouldest rend the heavens, that thou wouldest come down,
that the mountains might flow down at thy presence, as when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the waters to boil, to make thy name known
to thine adversaries, that the nations may tremble at thy presence! When thou didst terrible things which we looked not for, thou camest down, the mountains flowed down at thy presence.
For since the beginning of the world men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen, O God, beside thee, what he hath prepared for him that waiteth for him. Thou meetest him that rejoiceth and worketh righteousness, those that remember thee in thy ways: behold, thou art wroth; for we have sinned: in those is continuance, and we shall be saved.
But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. And there is none that calleth upon thy name, that stirreth
up himself to take hold of thee: for thou hast hid thy face from us, and hast consumed us, because of our iniquities.
But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand. Be not wroth very sore, O LORD, neither remember iniquity for ever: behold, see, we beseech thee, we are all thy people. Thy holy cities are a wilderness, Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation. Our holy and our beautiful house, where our fathers praised thee, is burned up with fire: and all our pleasant things are laid waste.
Wilt thou refrain thyself for these things, O LORD? wilt thou hold thy peace, and afflict us very sore?
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
oh light
what faith has promise
you burneth
a whole'
through
thy candle heart
but
do not burneth
thy wings tonight
oh light
what faith has promise
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC