"fireless" poems
That lamp thou fill’st in Eros name to-night,
O Hero, shall the Sestian augurs take
To-morrow, and for drowned Leander’s sake
To Anteros its fireless lip shall plight.
Aye, waft the unspoken vow: yet dawn’s first light
On ebbing storm and life twice ebb’d must break;
While ’neath no sunrise, by the Avernian Lake,
Lo where Love walks, Death’s pallid neophyte.
That lamp within Anteros’ shadowy shrine
Shall stand unlit (for so the gods decree)
Till some one man the happy issue see
Of a life’s love, and bid its flame to shine:
Which still may rest unfir’d; for, theirs or thine,
O brother, what brought love to them or thee?
3.2k
The streets were bare and the moon was out.
Stars shined in the blackness of night, and the little girl held a candle.
A dull candle, with no fire giving it burning life.
Her hands trembling in the cold, every breath she inhaled a wave of ice.
Her lungs straining to keep up the rhythm.
In, out. In, out.
Her hands shaking, her body trembling with fear of the great darkness.
Memories of the warmth she once felt tore her heart.
A bright fire once flickered on the wick of the candle, but the flame vanished in the wind.
The howling wind that came that night ripped the life from the candle.
And left the little girl to shiver in the cold, all alone.
Her eyes pleaded to all that walked by for a flame.
The warmth they felt stirred jealousy in her heart as she thought of the fireless candle.
A candle was all she had.
And without warmth, soon enough she would freeze.
Her eyes already drifting shut, her grip on the candle weakening, her heartbeat growing slower.
And people would shuffle past her and gasp, but continue on.
Nobody would help the poor little child that was dying in the cold.
For all she had was a candle.
And what's a candle without a flame?
Mar 19, 2020
Mar 19, 2020 at 10:28 AM UTC
Oh Kronos, you left me behind,
Speeding down the track to Oblivion
The seconds, the minutes, the hours fly by
And yet your hands pull further from mine
Dear Time, leaving me to wander,
What depths are there left to ponder?
Leviathan will consume us all
While you wait at the end with the glaring gall.
Speak to me through the threads dear tourist,
Lend me a sign, a clue, a hint you friend and altruist.
I cannot be left to drift in the futile battles already lost
My heart and soul are the final tokens to pay the dear cost.
You would leave your Rhea to suffer her children’s slaughter?
Eating the small things she holds dear, only to satisfy your lustful fear?
Time, hand me no more. Lead me elsewhere than your gut.
I am not to be fodder to the fireless man waiting at the end of time.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
A cigarette is just dragon spit, dragon spit
To tilt the world
Skull writing with ***** hands
Smear of words blind, dizzy
Onto walls of fireless caves
Out of the orange pulp of distant gerberas
Hopeful, and alone
Flick of sparks in air: dissolve
Downward around and everywhere
Like my thought
I wonder, if before me now were nothing
Would I jump?
There’d be no pain nor fear of end
There’d be nothing
I must transcribe this caved orange flower
Blindness somehow
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:56 PM UTC
My alarm clock screams.
Been awake for three hours;
so ahead of the game,
unaware of my powerless range.
I’ve been tossing, turning, creaking,
coming up with new names;
another attempt to link together
all of my fireless plains.
Hey, I’m running on fumes.
Hey, I’m Eugene Tooms;
stretching, twisting, warping,
got you reaching for clues.
It’ll all come together,
posted up in my room;
just typing up a dichotomy
of life as a lifeless plume.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
Gathered around the fireless pit,
The birds rejoicing to the songs;
Of easing melodies and mellow winds - no one sings along.
Tranquil, spontaneous and dynamic
is this place - we are pondering like Owls;
I wish I could sing aloud and be free, but I just sit there afoul.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
red Sun burns the oceans
beaches left barron
save for bleached bones
of fish large and small
unable to swim deep
when the last of electricity fails
when the water is gone
we all burn in the fireless rapture
Mother has spoken
she has cleared her vines
of withered fruit
the last breath
echoes across the scorched
hauntingly void landscape
the rainclouds move in
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
The baked boy that turned to a man at birth
The iron fist under God's protection
The balaclava to captain you sail past your brim of fears
I am a cocktail of a half cast
Punched half Ankole half Kiga
The wingless flyer of written wizardry
A fireless dragon with spits of love
An angry dream laughing at the past
Cabled brain with rain of thoughts.
I rose from s womb of typography
I am the telepathic soul of wisdom
That descended on crust as a glimmer
Am both you and I in a tender equation in ness
Am a broom to sweep your past tangible
The driver to enjamble your hopes.
The history yet to make your historyc
And spice your drab times in moments
Be all ears, one to make break what is of use to the moulded crashed in a jiffy.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 5:01 AM UTC