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"relit" poems
This is just so all of you know, I appreciate all of the support you’ve shown, Helped me regain a positivity, helped me to grow, Relit the fire inside me, allowing me to once again glow. The caring nature you all completely have, I know you’re all genuine; it’s not just a job to get cash, You really want to help, give us the skills so we know what to do if we crash, Help us see the good inside ourselves, the true facts. So thank you again for everything you’ve done, Because now I can hold my head up, I can see the sun, You helped me unlock a lot of my skeletons, Once again I can start to enjoy life and have fun. Keep up the good work, especially when it’s tough, Even if you only manage a little, it will be enough, To help us deal or unravel some of our stuff, Just a smile can help when we’re feeling rough. So I want you all to give yourself a hug and pat on the back, Maybe one day we will meet again, (minus the hat) When my life is going somewhere, back on track, Thank you all, from the hard nut to crack, insomniac. © Emma Johnson
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Feb 6, 2010
Feb 6, 2010 at 2:40 AM UTC
Thankyou
And as you so lightly traced my skin, All I felt was your longing for the flame that once so relentlessly licked your fingers. That passion that had ignited your lust, was now smokey embers of a dying fire too damp to ever be relit.
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Lost Flame
The sunset reflecting onto the clouds Fading into an empty darkness Only to be relit when the moon rises Showing me the nature of life A colorful masterpiece; Only for a moment is it dark Until the sun Finds another way to shine its light in the sky
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Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
Light
a relit cigarette never taste the same and that's all I'll preach on rekindling old flames.
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
1:6
when a candle burns the wax melts into itself. then the flame gets blown out and the wax hardens; then the flame gets relit and the wax warms up again, tenets and takes more of the candle with it everytime. the candle does this until the wick is gone and the candle is no more. so do not let your burdens or your past be candle wax to you because it will eat you alive until you are no more. instead, when your flame is lit, blow out the match and glow on your own.
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
candle wax
You never realize how Dark the night is Until some one snuffs out Your candle. And you have to ***** around in the dark For some matches. You swear you put them Next to the coffee machine, But it doesn't matter now. That flame Can not Be relit, No matter how hard You try. You must find Another source of light, Something more reliable. A flashlight perhaps. But one day That will be snuffed out too. Not even batteries Last Forever.
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Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
Batteries
i know how hard it is for you to get to the deep stuff. i know how long it takes you to admit how you felt like burning when your first dog died and how admitting that makes you feel like embers relit because she isnt the first youve said these things to. how long does it take for you to uncover your emotions? i know you dont feel like you can trust everyone to tell these things to. you think, where is their shovel? how do you dig up these things you havent let out of the coffin in so long? how deep do you go before you are buried too? its okay, you will admit these things over and over and your body will always feel warm when you do, a house that survives a fire always seems a bit smokey. i know you dont like to get to the deep stuff, i know murky water makes you nervous. i know you'd much rather float along the surface of this something new until you hit land again but we both know the ocean runs deep and you are fascinated by it. let yourself get wrapped in her, in how she smells so sweet and how youve never been kissed like that before. its okay to want something new its okay to let your feelings go its okay, perfectly okay to move on, to dig up the coffin of what you buried just dont let yourself fall in the grave. they are not all like him and it is okay to admit to yourself that you like this something new. its okay to get to the deep stuff.
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
digging your own grave
In your eyes I found myself home. You stoked the fire, relit my strength. Soul reborn by the warmth, brandished on my arm a new gauntlet of courage. Mere seconds later I was pummeled into the throes of war, fighting self fray. You stood behind me, giving me armour forged from pain and love. Without you, I'd be lain weak in loss. Yet I rise from the darkness... Heart replenished and wearing hope.
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Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
My Blacksmith
It starts with a fiery passion, That burns sweet like incense's ashes, And releases a fragrance of... Summer Love. Then you notice with her missing you began to see colors falling, And your departure from reality becomes... Autumn Leaves. Each passing day your limbs weaken, You've become cold and lonely, Longing for the warmth of her essence, Now you're freezing like the... Winter Breeze. Then just as soon as she returns, Your soul blossoms and renew, A unrequited love relit, Like a blaze... You Spring onto.
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Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
A Seasonal Love
Fire  Unwavering love, Like a flame on a candle, Needs to be relit.
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
Pangea's Notion pt 5 of 5
Then another light, stronger, Ignites with a flash, It fills the whole room, In one luminous splash. The light spills into the streets, Driving the shadows away, Exiled from our lives, Replaced with hope that stays. For so long, we struggled on, Striving to learn, But our steam-powered hearts, Had no coal to burn. But now refilled and relit, The flame burns bright and true, In dancing bursts it spreads, The clouds finally broken through. A restart, another chance, To make all things right, And nothing on this simple earth, Could shine nearly as bright.
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Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
Flicker [Part 2]
Once you drove up in your 1977 Mercedes, I could feel the hurried pulsation of a weary heart over the clattered groan of your engine. Clambering into my seat, I folded in on myself, too timid to fold into you instead. Creamed leather seats on a rusted turquoise shell  I look to the back, expecting some residue of the last lipstick crush that you set fire to. Instead, I found $1 books from the library and your worn regalia that I would’ve stolen and kept as filthy souvenirs. A deep inhale of your burnout sheesha that bobby pinned to tired marrow in my bones - I would’ve taken you right then and there. Instead, we played coy with the thin fabric of a relit friendship and talked poetry and music over a ceramic bowl of coconut chicken curry. But all I romanced was a clustered cocktail of my favorite things: The drag of my curious fingertips underneath your prickled jaw. This fever building as I curl into your arms and the corrupted graze of your hungry lips in the groove of my neck. Temptation at its finest. Such promise between two starved pilgrims But the descent down to the deep V between hips is a sweet flame that can easily burn you and leave pin pricked stains. So its a good thing that I let you go. October 17, 2013 4:38 PM
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
“Facilis Descensus Averno”
I feel the echoes again they come, my beating heart a heavy drum, It's hard to make myself think, when my shadows push me to the brink, the darkness encompasses me, In the light I'd rather be, instead I'm choking in the thick black smoke, voices laughing as if its a joke, All I feel is pain and hate, The girl now foe used to be a mate, She's been stalking me for a long time, so much so my thoughts are no longer mine, she stole my pride, joy and my dreams, stole my essence it would seem, what is real and what is illusion, Am I simply believing delusion, I am alone and will always be, If people would think I'm crazy, I thought that long ago, when I was lowest of the low, But true friends stay right by your side, Till your almost normal and full of pride, I want burning hope to be relit, I hope you can still remember it.
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May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Perception
I just want to see you grow Stronger than were before I know it’s hard to trust a hope But your heart was always stubborn Hold on my darling Don’t you let go For don’t you remember There are flowers beneath the snow Well the path is may be long To find again your soul But I know it’s still there breathing Your inner child knows The walls you built were safer But every wall it must come down There is pain with all things beautiful Your mind will come around Hold on my darling Don’t you let go For don’t you remember There are flowers beneath the snow I see you in these fields of green Your smile broad and true The light it has relit your eyes A stronger, prouder, you Hold on my darling Don’t you let go For don’t you remember There are flowers beneath the snow
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Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 9:47 PM UTC
Song: Flowers Beneath the Snow
The first time I saw him in 2 years all I could manage to choke out was "where do you stay" and "I'll pay you as soon as i can" I dreamt of him that night. I dreamt of dew covering the ground, chlorine, and dead things. Dreams of sugarplum fairies danced around my head. You know, they say "relit cigarettes never taste the same and that's all I've got to say about rekindling old flames" but I imagine you would taste like the last time I kissed you- salty. Because as soon as our lips touched I started to cry. Because I knew it would be the last time. Because we were too young. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be with you again. I wish I could roll you into a joint and get high off you. I wish you didn't talk like one of the bad guys, like a gangster. I wish you never learned what it was like to be without me.
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Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
Old Lover
I got my dancing shoes back on again today. **** did it feel good! I also got back into the rhythm and began tutoring for the beginner level class. I can't believe that I would really miss that, but I did. My excitement for dancing has been relit, And the chance to pass that onto yet another class has me smiling. A new class and a new semester of opportunities, With growth and learning available to both the students as well as me. It's such a great feeling to help them succeed, As well as helping them progress, especially when they thought they were beyond saving. Dance is a passion which burns within me. I can't describe how good it feels to be back, Adding fuel to the flame which burns in me so brightly, Adding fuel to a flame That I almost let get extinguished.
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Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 3:44 AM UTC
Did You Know I Tutor Dance?
“We’ve engineered the world for comfort and ease. Most people rarely step outside of their comfort zones these days—we’re living progressively soft, sterile, temperature-controlled, overfed, under-challenged, safety-netted lives1. And it’s slowly limiting the degree to which we experience our, as the poet Mary Oliver put it, “one wild and precious life.”” Michael Easter, Substack <>><<> five months have expired from when this notion 1st caught my notice but fallow lay, unattended, unremarked unforgiving of my ignorance and inattention but it freshly, rightly, core challenges me guilty of the underbelly softness so well described, I choose to scribe, wrestle with angel and devil, two~on~one human, and yet, still a fair fight "wild and precious!" how rarely we employ these adjectives, that conjure the edginess of an existence lest you think, that we are here to implore, urge, skydiving, remote wilderness trekking, or other physical states that set adrenaline on fire, I am not afterthat for them oh, my wild and precious is far more treacherous and enthralling what I beg you to embrace is no farther than nubs, knobs and stubbled nibs of your fingers, the taste buds flowering invisible on the wily, twisty tongue, the  tiny-vibrating little hairs of your nostril, two extra large  eggy pupils of your two eyes, here lies danger, your customized throbbing throbbing your drumming, leadings access to the garden of The truly wild and precious, the poems you will scribe, from the safety of your captains chair,, Throwing caution to the wind compose and depose yourself with bitter questioning, For which the answered answers must be truly be wild and precious   cyan sighs, oaken cries, furious colorless invasive tears, steely stabbing personal truths, yes those wild ones, in your. chest close held, spill them like cold coffee, surrender the precious, and inward confess your shame, gains  and the relit that you are not merely wild and precious but a sea borne sailor, a navy voyaging to to where danger enthralls enlivens!
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Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 10:23 AM UTC
This, For You: "One wild and precious life”
“We’ve engineered the world for comfort and ease. Most people rarely step outside of their comfort zones these days—we’re living progressively soft, sterile, temperature-controlled, overfed, under-challenged, safety-netted lives1. And it’s slowly limiting the degree to which we experience our, as the poet Mary Oliver put it, “one wild and precious life.”” Michael Easter, Substack <>><<> five months have expired from when this notion 1st caught my notice but fallow lay, unattended, unremarked unforgiving of my ignorance and inattention but it freshly, rightly, core challenges me guilty of the underbelly softness so well described, I choose to scribe, wrestle with angel and devil, two~on~one human, and yet, still a fair fight "wild and precious!" how rarely we employ these adjectives, that conjure the edginess of an existence lest you think, that we are here to implore, urge, skydiving, remote wilderness trekking, or other physical states that set adrenaline on fire, I am not afterthat for them oh, my wild and precious is far more treacherous and enthralling what I beg you to embrace is no farther than nubs, knobs and stubbled nibs of your fingers, the taste buds flowering invisible on the wily, twisty tongue, the  tiny-vibrating little hairs of your nostril, two extra large  eggy pupils of your two eyes, here lies danger, your customized throbbing throbbing your drumming, leadings access to the garden of The truly wild and precious, the poems you will scribe, from the safety of your captains chair,, Throwing caution to the wind compose and depose yourself with bitter questioning, For which the answered answers must be truly be wild and precious   cyan sighs, oaken cries, furious colorless invasive tears, steely stabbing personal truths, yes those wild ones, in your. chest close held, spill them like cold coffee, surrender the precious, and inward confess your shame, gains  and the relit that you are not merely wild and precious but a sea borne sailor, a navy voyaging to to where danger enthralls enlivens!
Continue reading...
68
Don't wait around stuck in this pit hoping one day your flame will be relit It's not going to happen so get on with your life because love is painful and it cuts like a knife
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Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 8:33 PM UTC
Knife
I am blue and stuck inside a solid crystal of ice and you are the fire here to thaw me out and melt away my sadness as light bleeds through my curtains and I bleed through my bandages I will feel the warmth from you covering my stone cold wounds and fusing them back together as if the sunbeams radiating from your smile act like stitches healing my tired and broken flesh my chest was once a hollow and frozen cage and  it is now burning as if you relit my heart and my veins which were once nothing but icicles have flames and electricity surging through them one day I will stop seeing red and start seeing gold and I hope over time blue will become your favourite colour
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 6:01 AM UTC
the ice and the fire.
A burning candle lost it’s flame, The darkened nights washed it away. In cruelty and negligence, All is lost in it’s defense. A little match to be relit, To send the world out of this pit. The cold winds blow out the light, The world takes it’s toll in sleepless nights. A blizzard comes and brings all harm, There’s not a light to make it warm. This little candle withers still, From dusk to dawn and midnight till. Unwanted shadows come around, Bringing darkness to the ground. Invading all that is there, Casting the world in despair. This candle has once been burned, For the light and warmth were yearned. Now, in the foolishness of man, It soon becomes the second hand. One curious soul holds a match, Hoping for the flame to catch. In hope and faith a light to gain, Bringing back the world to sane. The little candle soon burned out, Yet, still the light is carried about. For that one curious soul, Is brighter than the candle alone.
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Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Once Burned
I've sat and stared at that one word so long, it has lost its meaning. Love: its taste in my mouth as it rolls off my tongue sends shivers down my soul. Your smile: its beauty is radiant enough to bring warmth to my ever cooling core. You: you relit the flame inside me, but now you've nearly blown it out. you didn't mean to, I know, yet here I lie, embers where a volcano once erupted.
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Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 8:20 PM UTC
Frozen
I    am    broken. But not in a sense of a favourite coffee cup being dropped into  tiny  l i t t l e  shards but, like a candle that has been lit and relit using all it has to give and now is not able to work. I am now only pretty to look at. Wanting nothing more to work, to feel the fire inside me.
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Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 6:26 PM UTC
Candle
I'm bad at falling asleep It takes me hours But last night When smiles relit our faces And we fought through it all United as always I climbed into my bed Cozy as can be And before I fell asleep I felt your arms wrapped around my waist And I smiled knowing that one day It won't be my mind dreaming And wishing But reality A blissfully eternal reality.
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Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
Ghost Arms
Each time you recoil to your northern roots I am enamored. Floored. Caught in your web like a leaf who's path, being carved by the wind, is brought to a sudden and urgent  stop. We were only together for what seemed like years. But that was years ago. And eventually we called it a day. There have been other girls since, but none as calm, kind or gentle as you were.  As you still are. Every time I move past it you retreat back home. And Just like that, the fuse is relit. Like that night, two years ago, in Boyds basement. We didn't even kiss, but we did sleep together. Side by side. My arms around you. I remember telling you that I was in love.  You were the first women I ever shared those words with. Im fairly positive that when you packed  for Georgia my heart was tucked away in your baggage. It has resided in Atlanta ever since.
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Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 4:08 AM UTC
South For the Winter