"incendiaries" poems - Hello Poetry

When the incendiaries lit the sky A face smiled its divine calligraphy: It was Helen crowned with Troy's debris. Her unmatchable mouth in the roof Of blood moved in speech like the home of love, Hanging its moon of reproof: 'My kiss blots history out. My landslide legend has forgotten A thousand thousand bones rotting; 'Under the guilty sea The ships lie; but accuracy Has been seduced by me.' Her smile sailed indiscriminately Among the squadrons of death majestically And was reflected on the sea. 'The armless Venus carried Pompei's tears Better than the raided years Or the cold dances of chameleon stars.' Then faded. But the rain Like lovers' seeds that fall in vain, Warned me of my sin.

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3.6k

Elizabeth Smart

Love In Wartime

When the incendiaries lit the sky A face smiled its divine calligraphy: It was Helen crowned with Troy's debris. Her unmatchable mouth in the roof Of blood moved in speech like the home of love, Hanging its moon of reproof: 'My kiss blots history out. My landslide legend has forgotten A thousand thousand bones rotting; 'Under the guilty sea The ships lie; but accuracy Has been seduced by me.' Her smile sailed indiscriminately Among the squadrons of death majestically And was reflected on the sea. 'The armless Venus carried Pompei's tears Better than the raided years Or the cold dances of chameleon stars.' Then faded. But the rain Like lovers' seeds that fall in vain, Warned me of my sin.

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Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust

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May 11, 2017

May 11, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC

dillan-courtright

Holocaust

Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust

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calling IV calling all truck drivers calling all car dealers all scuba divers all potato peelers all mothers all sons all brothers calling all who’ve won all losers, users, and just all perusers of rusty lust calling all criminals all those who’ve tussled and cussed calling all mechanics and all whom, in them, trust calling all politicians for i must beg of ye to see this infinity in we calling all ministers of high finance all fragile tendencies toward your dance with your blossoming children and their salty breezes their blown into kerchiefs and their seizing sneezes seeing you as you carry them toward our unifying dust i hold no ill will toward that soil you till i’ve passed around your notes, your bonds, and your bills i’d thought i’d be one of you ‘til i met a few untils love your children, and love yourself, for they shall carry your ashes into a box upon a shelf that dust behind all wealth calling all foxes, dogs, cats, chickens, and beetles all sages, rosemary, spikes, and needles all wages, incendiaries, wallops, and weebles all pages, all poets all police, all panthers all those battling fires without and within all those atop towers all whom are twins calling all wheels upon all surfaces all of those mired in a sense of worthlessness calling all kings calling all nations calling all jordan’s, americas, and native stations we’re writing too much blood into not enough ground we’ve survived our flood and are forever bound calling brother abel and brother cain father abraham and mother pain you’ve traumatized me from all this blood you’ve lain i see peace in all your eyes blown to pieces in terrorizing replies calling all consumers, producers, unionizers, and managers corporations, and not for profit planners all doctors, nurses, clients, and programmers advertisers, marketers, bloggers, and spammers all engineers of damns, bridges, and destructions those who fell they’re ****** due to their suctions i’ve sensed a fragile beauty in your moistened orbs you all carry i beg of you all to come from love lay down your swords i beg you not tarry come women laying into asphalt come scientists predicting san andreas’ fault come widows, charlatans, and poets of trite all ye poets weeping into ye hands all ye poets of darkness and light perfect light and darkness are myths upon this earth just as perfect black and white are myths spun from history’s dearth

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Apr 12, 2016

Apr 12, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC

rf-jordan

calling IV

calling IV calling all truck drivers calling all car dealers all scuba divers all potato peelers all mothers all sons all brothers calling all who’ve won all losers, users, and just all perusers of rusty lust calling all criminals all those who’ve tussled and cussed calling all mechanics and all whom, in them, trust calling all politicians for i must beg of ye to see this infinity in we calling all ministers of high finance all fragile tendencies toward your dance with your blossoming children and their salty breezes their blown into kerchiefs and their seizing sneezes seeing you as you carry them toward our unifying dust i hold no ill will toward that soil you till i’ve passed around your notes, your bonds, and your bills i’d thought i’d be one of you ‘til i met a few untils love your children, and love yourself, for they shall carry your ashes into a box upon a shelf that dust behind all wealth calling all foxes, dogs, cats, chickens, and beetles all sages, rosemary, spikes, and needles all wages, incendiaries, wallops, and weebles all pages, all poets all police, all panthers all those battling fires without and within all those atop towers all whom are twins calling all wheels upon all surfaces all of those mired in a sense of worthlessness calling all kings calling all nations calling all jordan’s, americas, and native stations we’re writing too much blood into not enough ground we’ve survived our flood and are forever bound calling brother abel and brother cain father abraham and mother pain you’ve traumatized me from all this blood you’ve lain i see peace in all your eyes blown to pieces in terrorizing replies calling all consumers, producers, unionizers, and managers corporations, and not for profit planners all doctors, nurses, clients, and programmers advertisers, marketers, bloggers, and spammers all engineers of damns, bridges, and destructions those who fell they’re ****** due to their suctions i’ve sensed a fragile beauty in your moistened orbs you all carry i beg of you all to come from love lay down your swords i beg you not tarry come women laying into asphalt come scientists predicting san andreas’ fault come widows, charlatans, and poets of trite all ye poets weeping into ye hands all ye poets of darkness and light perfect light and darkness are myths upon this earth just as perfect black and white are myths spun from history’s dearth

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First we heard the distant drone of their oncoming planes. We raced towards the shelters but could not out run the flames. A package of incendiaries Freed from a Bomb bay door Melted Martin Luther’s bronze statue in the mall. The city center is ablaze; thousands maimed or dead. This was our first night of fear But they would come again. Zuerst das ferne Dröhnen hören wir ihrer entgegenkommenden Flugzeuge. Wir rasten in Richtung der Unterstände konnte aber nicht aufgebraucht, die Flammen. Ein Paket von Brandstifter Von einer Bombe Bucht Tür befreit Geschmolzene Martin Luthers Bronzestatue in der Mall. Das Stadtzentrum ist in Brand; Tausende verstümmelt oder tot. Dies war unsere erste Nacht der Angst Aber sie wiederkommen würden.

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Feb 13, 2015

Feb 13, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

Night of Fire/Nacht des Feuers

First we heard the distant drone of their oncoming planes. We raced towards the shelters but could not out run the flames. A package of incendiaries Freed from a Bomb bay door Melted Martin Luther’s bronze statue in the mall. The city center is ablaze; thousands maimed or dead. This was our first night of fear But they would come again. Zuerst das ferne Dröhnen hören wir ihrer entgegenkommenden Flugzeuge. Wir rasten in Richtung der Unterstände konnte aber nicht aufgebraucht, die Flammen. Ein Paket von Brandstifter Von einer Bombe Bucht Tür befreit Geschmolzene Martin Luthers Bronzestatue in der Mall. Das Stadtzentrum ist in Brand; Tausende verstümmelt oder tot. Dies war unsere erste Nacht der Angst Aber sie wiederkommen würden.

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Night raids on Salt End were legendary… It were a giant chemical works with ship docks, silos, storage tanks, fuel dumps, an ideal 'drop off point' for Gerry… But Salt End plant’s night raids on Hedon Road weren’t gonna daunt our lot, they lived a mile or so down the lane to Preston and seemed unafraid of gerri’n shot. But they built a shelter across’t main road in a field… On the outside It were a haystack within the walls, six foot thick… proper beds on hay bails to the front and back... cosy. Down the middle was a ‘lounge’ with chairs, lights, a radio - electric run from’t big ‘ouse It’s better than being at’ome our Charlie used to say For the eldest (and the architect) he’d not much nowse. Me mam (then 19) told me she bussed it into Hull ****** the Doodlebugs” She needed Jitterbugs… and they still danced at City Hall. ******** to Gerry and his mates. Margie & her pal René, dauntless, they had a right ball! Last Bus to ‘Withernsea’ from town dropped her off at the junction by the Speedway on Hedon Road. Just as her way was lit by fire bombs - all about when Gerry dropped his final unaimed load Maybe ack-ack’d sort him out. She was 2 miles from home… every few seconds another blast. Scuttling …dodging whistling incendiaries, running fast, whippet like… any second could’ve been her last anything too close she’d have to jump in't **** She couldn’t mek it t’t shelter or house so picked the coal shed - instead… threw herself down on coals…noise lifted - silence dawned… all clear heavy breathing - not hers - she wan’t alone What if it’s one of them - a downed ***** airman. Nervous, terrified more like she let out a little shudder a gentle cough… to test her nerve “Is that you Margie?… You daft ****** It were brother Tom… He’d been t’t Nags Head and he’d run the opposite way from the village instead.

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Sep 7, 2021

Sep 7, 2021 at 12:25 PM UTC

chrisslade

Doodlebugs & Jitterbugs

Night raids on Salt End were legendary… It were a giant chemical works with ship docks, silos, storage tanks, fuel dumps, an ideal 'drop off point' for Gerry… But Salt End plant’s night raids on Hedon Road weren’t gonna daunt our lot, they lived a mile or so down the lane to Preston and seemed unafraid of gerri’n shot. But they built a shelter across’t main road in a field… On the outside It were a haystack within the walls, six foot thick… proper beds on hay bails to the front and back... cosy. Down the middle was a ‘lounge’ with chairs, lights, a radio - electric run from’t big ‘ouse It’s better than being at’ome our Charlie used to say For the eldest (and the architect) he’d not much nowse. Me mam (then 19) told me she bussed it into Hull ****** the Doodlebugs” She needed Jitterbugs… and they still danced at City Hall. ******** to Gerry and his mates. Margie & her pal René, dauntless, they had a right ball! Last Bus to ‘Withernsea’ from town dropped her off at the junction by the Speedway on Hedon Road. Just as her way was lit by fire bombs - all about when Gerry dropped his final unaimed load Maybe ack-ack’d sort him out. She was 2 miles from home… every few seconds another blast. Scuttling …dodging whistling incendiaries, running fast, whippet like… any second could’ve been her last anything too close she’d have to jump in't **** She couldn’t mek it t’t shelter or house so picked the coal shed - instead… threw herself down on coals…noise lifted - silence dawned… all clear heavy breathing - not hers - she wan’t alone What if it’s one of them - a downed ***** airman. Nervous, terrified more like she let out a little shudder a gentle cough… to test her nerve “Is that you Margie?… You daft ****** It were brother Tom… He’d been t’t Nags Head and he’d run the opposite way from the village instead.

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*What can I say? Already, there are Flying lanterns, Falling stars, Fireflies and all Incendiaries In her eyes, What can I say, Or cannot love? Or what movement of breath, Of mouth, Can go against The movement Of the lips?* © 2015 J.S.P.

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Mar 29, 2015

Mar 29, 2015 at 10:59 AM UTC

jspua

Speechless

*What can I say? Already, there are Flying lanterns, Falling stars, Fireflies and all Incendiaries In her eyes, What can I say, Or cannot love? Or what movement of breath, Of mouth, Can go against The movement Of the lips?* © 2015 J.S.P.

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Setting Spring Alight Dog and man, leashed by habit, retrace all the old routes against a backdrop of calendar pages ripped clean, carried off by thieving wind graduated from soft breezes once played across fresh baked faces, recalled when thoughts wander off lead. They pause here and there to rub trace memory from galley proofs of grass, take in sooty crews of robins, incendiaries touching down, setting town alight. One warms to waning desire to give chase, the other burns through days as if spring still hung lightly on his shoulders.

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Mar 24, 2017

Mar 24, 2017 at 8:40 AM UTC

dave-hardin

revised

Setting Spring Alight Dog and man, leashed by habit, retrace all the old routes against a backdrop of calendar pages ripped clean, carried off by thieving wind graduated from soft breezes once played across fresh baked faces, recalled when thoughts wander off lead. They pause here and there to rub trace memory from galley proofs of grass, take in sooty crews of robins, incendiaries touching down, setting town alight. One warms to waning desire to give chase, the other burns through days as if spring still hung lightly on his shoulders.

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