"scorches" poems
A phoenix is...
Extended ash, through unending life,
Darkness clouds the happiness of distant days, as eternal life
might be cursed by the flames of hell, yet she is always resurrecting,
Like a spectator, she watches life rise and fall, alike day and night,
Comparable to the smoke which thins it's trail as it travels into the distant sky, yet never truly dying never truly disappearing, living on.
Such is the fate of one who is imperishable, it is alonely existence,
Scared to bond but filled with hope she keeps her head up high,
Because the majestic, azure sky is always a source of hope and bliss,
This makes her fight on, although this battle will never end,
Believing there is a future, in which she someday will rest happily,
Misery and hatred burn up in her flames, which then fall into the darkness of a deep sin which has found its occurance in the long past,
As her body scorches into a blaze of immortality, recurring memories soar, illuminating the land and guiding her through the long night,
Even if all what is lost can be found again, it will perish, transiently.
For now all what is left, is but immortal smoke.
~ Umi
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
I
Through vines indeterminate
Red cherry eyes peeped,
And spied two forms,
Fleshy pink and brown
Trees, tangled at the roots,
kissing in the canopy.
II
The garden was our
Discotheque, the sullen
Moonlight reflected
On the Black Beauties,
Twisted black mirrors,
in the garden of joy.
III
O, to again be mov'd
By your heirloom lips,
I'd give it all, the earth,
the sun, and the water.
A sacrifice: my Homesteads,
for a home.
IV
Soil runs dry.
The sun scorches.
Plagues run rampant.
We burn, we are sacked
and pillaged, and destroyed.
Roma, Roma, Roma.
V.
Maybe the rain,
Or sweet shade,
Or gentle sun,
Or simply the need
To be so defiantly
alive, will bring us again,
And I will drink you up again,
Brandywine.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
we hail from synonyms
replicate those isles of dirt
jagged colossal terrains of earth
which sprouts to scrape
the wisps of pearly clouds
where marble and stone
splintered scorches of gnarled bark
where the soft paws of preying lions
roam within the sea of swaying golden grass
where each stroke of a feathered wing
flourishes the air with its mighty swing
and the threshold of mysterious beings
idle in mischief of deep blue seas
and those salty shores
swallow the iron hulk of ships
and ferocious savages of nature's call
groaning in mourn for her body
her crevasses and pools of spilling
crystal cerulean water
where the malachite moss
sits in stone of endless time
and trees groomed of wind and sun
prideful beneath the drink of the setting morrow
she yearns for the claim of her shape
for the purity of her waters like blood
her parched throat of sandy desert lands
amputated into wells of gorging oil
she suffocates from her very existence
a poison to herself
and as the days wan to a fast massacre
to her own suicidal mission
to feed our negligence
we label:
humanity
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
We were dueling with sparks
Now we’re juggling fire
Flame still starves in the dark
Never beaten or tired
Doesn’t dim with age
It can’t be blown out
Still alive with rage
Feeding on your doubt
It doesn’t think
And it can’t feel
Driven to the brink
Craving its next meal
Anger scorches your soul
Many have learned
If you play with fire,
you’re bound to get burned.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:31 PM UTC
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul
Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M.
Deep in the distance
dancing upon the horizon
a deeply distinctive voice
defies definition
bending genres to her will
clearly breaking boundaries
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Little Girl Blue
lettin' it all out
with a wild as the wind
Sinner man
just tryin' to feel good
absolutely refusing to be misunderstood
a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes
into blazing beautiful harmony
putting a revolutionary spell on you
belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit
Peace of Heart
Nectar of Truth
just in time
to do what you do...
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
Born to a preacher handyman
and housemaid minister
a gospel pop fusion diva
emerges from the Glory of Love
a strange volatile fruit
blossoms into young, gifted, and Black
spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold
from a silky soul
that scorches the earth
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Masterfully mesmerizing
Black rock
Blood
and Candlesmoke
a fiery flow of
tangy, tantalizing and titillating
under a fog of duality
genius bears two heads
vibrant and intricate
a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty
an empowered diva
breaks down and let's it all out
just energetic expressive jazz
injected with well composed folklore
live at Ronnie Scotts
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
From Newport to Baltimore
an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit
and hypnotizes the masses
with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs
a powerful
Four Women
high on Lilac Wine
blush from Broadway Blues Ballads
in Baltimore
See-line woman
goes to hell
to save Little Liza Jane
and shelters in Barbados
Cotton-eyed Joe feeds
Brown Baby controversy
behind Blue Prelude
Did it move you?
Yeah...
Hell yeah.. it moved me too!
Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird
in chilly winds that don't blow
while willows weep something seemingly
symbolic of soothing
to an African mailman in Central Park
and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
The High Priestess of Soul
caged but still singing
shivering sensations
from stubborn sweetness
under sweet strings
that sharply spill and scatter strength
to the sorrowful
that daily dine and devour
silky, soulful, and spicy
Pastel Blues.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
Hydrangeas explode, grass spikes the soil
Sun scorches all, water crashes on shores
Ice destroyed, eyes beaten by bright rays
Heat everywhere, blue suffocates the sky
We love a violent summer
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
You speak of my frustrations
in memories aloft
High as I was in the sky,
so as low will be my drop
In most of days I long for you,
and in most I feel the weight
of the pain that sears and scorches through
my arteries and veins
How long, how long shall your stare remain
to torment my heart and soul?
The hades of which now fills my mind
had once felt much like home
and now I hide in solitude
from suffering and from pain
To escape the toils of loving you
To sleep and never wake again.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
Before sleep I knot a paper tag
to my big toe with baling twine.
Sometimes I think of stapling it -
ritual wants a clean edge.
She tolerates my oddities:
a posterboard of errands above the sink,
tea mug with its brown ring I refuse to clean,
I stand too close when the train arrives,
or climb ladders with one hand full.
Last summer a rogue wave flung me under;
I surfaced broken, collarbone split,
came home wrapped and aching.
She kissed the bruise and laughed,
as if I’d slipped the ocean’s grip,
as if the sea had lost its claim.
I call them accidents to sleep easier,
yet I flood the stove with gas,
strike a match, laugh at the plume,
convinced the fire means I’m alive
even as it scorches my hand.
At night she circles the bed,
tugging at my toe tag
as if it could bind me to her,
carrying me into the cabin,
a weight she won’t release.
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 1:44 PM UTC
I see green,
I see blue,
I see careless clouds,
Fleeting about in hues;
I see sparkles of white,
I see days full and bright.
And then it comes,
The haze that blinds,
The sun scorches down,
The green turns brown;
And though the illusion of mist;
No more do I see.
The birds stop their song,
I wonder why,
The hills turn brown,
And again I wonder;
If anyone cared,
If anyone sees.
I pave my way through the crowds,
As I breathe through cloth,
Up and down,
Left and right,
Everyone seems to be,
Trapped in this tropical haze.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
this blessing
or curse
i do not know
for it grows and kills me
as I sprout toward the sun
the higher I climb
the sun scorches my leaves
l am alive still
climbing higher and higher
burning with every inch
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
Can you see the water dripping from your mother's mouth?
It's been giving you life since before your father ever took a sip.
And at times, it scorches the prints right off your fingertips but you still have the same blood.
This same blood, which mixes with the water dripping from your own mouth, turns to wine as your lover grazes each corner of the lips that always turn down.
And as they purse into the softest circle, you remember the way your mother smiled with her mouth, full.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
All wise and knowing seer of Delphi, Oracle I beg thee tell me,
What enchanting malady afflicts my mortal soul?
It churns my stomach like as butter, pangs my heart and makes it flutter,
Spins my thoughts so rapidly, I lose all self-control;
A wildly spinning vortex and I lose all self-control.
Striking deeply, sharp blades whirring, thrusting madly, twisting, turning,
Searing pain that scorches, burning, brings me to despair;
Silently it tracks and trails me, pouncing when my courage fails me,
Oracle, what sickness ails me? Save me from its snare;
Oh wise and noble Oracle, what has me in its snare?
Mortal fool, be still and listen, I espied you in a vision,
Ancient magic has arisen from the depths of hell;
Crafted in the Devil's furnace, cunningly it seeks to burn its
Way into your soul, I've seen this, none can break its spell;
It knows your every weakness and you cannot break its spell.
You must succumb and do it swift, or e'er your soul will be adrift,
Held captive in the Devil's rift, your mind will split asunder;
Your struggle will be fought in vain, eternal doom in endless pain,
Relent or e'er you'll feel its bane, your soul it comes to plunder;
You must relent and let it in, or feel its wrathful thunder.
Oh Oracle, all wise and knowing, fear inside me keeps on growing,
I can sense a chill wind blowing, filling me with dread;
Although your words seem strange and hollow, I submit and gladly follow,
For I know the God Apollo guides the path you tread;
Wise Apollo takes your hand and guides the path you tread.
--
What sweet exquisite joy I'm feeling, giddily my head is reeling,
Days have passed and find me kneeling at my sweethearts feet;
Oh Oracle, I will not tarry, asking her if she will marry,
Saving me from malady, she makes my soul complete;
She drives away the malady and makes my soul complete.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
The wildlife of the forests
Galloping, crawling, scattering,
The harmony of the ecosystem
The essence of beauty upon Earth
The sea and all that inhabit it
From the irredescant coral reef
To the abyss of the ocean floor
All life enveloped in a circle
The human race and their cities
Eracting to the skies, higher, higher,
To build and reflect this world.
And acquire dominance and understanding.
A man working for tomorrow's promotion
Companies building onto the future
An expecant mother planning for her newborn
A single tree beginning to grow...
The signs of tomorrow beget themselves
Alas, they are the subjects of fate
For a single blue jay hears...
A thundering whistle.
Silence.
Oh! The destruction that ensues!
The earth trembles and lava scorches
Every organism falls to the ground
For here lies the next part of the cycle.
Armageddon.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 5:20 PM UTC
Bubbles in a bath,
loud moaning blaring in the back
as I look down at the
bruising on my
muted
skin.
I try to imagine
myself with your
glowing frame
submerged underneath
the water.
Without you, I've
been a bit dramatic.
A bit manic.
Wandering and wonderin';
yeah, I've let my mind
slip at night.
In the hours of now until
then, I try to
refrain.
I indulge myself
into routine.
I watch lovers on the
screen.
Envisioning myself with
women in the late
hours but mimicking
your strokes in the
morning.
Without you,
without you.
I'm free to be me.
With you, I'm
happy.
Molten coffee scorches my
untouched tongue,
reminding me that
I can still feel
warmth.
Damp moss grazes my
untasted body,
reminding me that
I can still
dream.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC
sun scorches the earth,
grass get dry and turn to dust,
rocks transmit their strength,
trees drench in illusory rains.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
*Red
Scales glisten
In the moonlight
Smoke
Rises in plumes
Before the dark night
Fire
Scorches all
Whose swords do fight
Desiree
A dragons name
Is one to cause fright*
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
a river runs through a ghostly town
soaked clay red with the blood of the earth,
the land is marked with tire tracks like an addict's elbow crease
sweating oil and electrical wire,
fields tilled with the claws of a paper beast
sprout telephone poles and generations of debt
amongst indigo coffee beans,
rotting tin roofs striped with rust
creak folklore in the pouring rain,
muddied palms clinging to trust on mala beads
are stung with poisoned ink leaked from shrines golden and winking,
an ornate temple carves god sharp into a clouded sky
its steeple piercing his hands
shards of bone spilling ash onto upturned foreheads,
sun scorches unsuspecting soil and it cries exhaust fumes,
the sputtering song of a motorbike is answered
by the howl of a stray mutt in an alleyway
reverberating pleas to a clenched fist,
an unremitting flame sweeps ruin
across leaf barren trees
wind choking on smoke coughing up skeletons,
and the planet heaves
and the planet heaves
weezing on humanity's delirious daydreams
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
When specks of ash float on the breath of the last great tree,
When the heat Scorches the final blade of grass to dust,
When the sun dares to rise again,
We will prevail.
When the ocean’s great white waves blow back black,
When the last leaf sways down to its final resting place,
When the clouds seem to always cry,
We will rise.
When the breeze whispers it's melodious secrets,
When the earth stops beating the drum of its heart,
When the water’s legato rhythm becomes jagged,
When the fire eats up everything that is left,
We will feast.
We will devour the last of mankind.
We will peel skin,
We will pick nails,
We will lick the very fingers that once fed us.
Unforgiving,
We take the young.
Heartless,
We watch them burn.
Happily,
We yearn for more.
In the end,
I rise to take my throne.
Stepping on empty skulls,
Snapping, cracking, and
Creaking to sit upon the empty wasteland of bones.
I smile,
Sitting back to admire my creation.
The birth of something new.
A perfect melody built just for you,
And this time, you better sing.
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 11:47 AM UTC
***** is the only language I know
Burning brightens anguish that grows
Like the blinding light the sun shows
A star providing life
While simultaneously burning me
As I dream of turning free
Floating here I sail a sea
Of words that hurt
And kick up dirt
Of actions that keep stacking
Of factions that keep attacking
Of agency that I'm lacking
To change any of these things
Or the sorrow they bring
The sun's assault through trees
Scorches the dirt off of me
In a world on fire
Incinerators are the cleanest places
In a hateful empire
Interpreters are unwelcome faces
And we continue to count the paces
Until we master mudslides
And we continue to erase the traces
Of our humanity under dirt
We live in this sandstorm
Brought by man's scorn
We attempt to grow corn
But the dusty fields remain barren
When the sun that used to activate photosynthesis
Now burns all the young seeds to a crisp
The seeds are now manufactured
As people wait for the rapture
Unable to see salvation starts here on Earth
And it starts with us cleaning up dirt
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 7:57 AM UTC
Before my eyes is the war dance, the armies of light enact,
is this, one inane madness or pursuance of a vision divine?
what makes me lose my heart, to you for all the time?
White lotus of my thoughts, the blooming my every cell echoes,
we are no different, I am reminded, our union is beyond time.
Through this limitless moor, tireless miles,alone I walk,
feel your presence everywhere when the wind booms
the blazing desert sun is unforgiving, it implied this:
"I'll make him regret for his insane love, the intrepid adventurer"
even if he scorches me to death, would I ever let go of my love?"
Rain lashed, strong guests of gale pelted hailstones,
uprooted trees asked me to stop,paths became waterways,
nothing, except your face, entrenched deep in my consciousness,
was in my recall; our love,I resolved, wouldn't die, even if I fall.
White lotus of legends, in you enshrined, is my essence,
don't pretend, you are unkind and I am not in your eye shot,
for you the rules of love I'll throw to the winds, cross the river of fire,
pull out all the stops to reach you, may it be in this life or in any other .
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC
There's a fire
that's burning my very soul
It scorches like hell.
There's a cold
that's freezing my heart
It bites with misery.
Madness growing on the inside
With fear shackles the light.
Darkness taking the lead,
controlling this black heart.
Evil is dominating
devouring my black soul.
Enduring with what's left
in my humanity.
*After every darkest night,
A very bright morning will rise.*
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
I never had a care for myself,
as long as I felt alive
and did survive
I never strived
to protect my shell of skin,
until she pried me from within.
For, although I still felt numb
I lay, for once, undone
before the one who prompted
love's bittersweet curse.
The one I could not reverse,
nor find a remedy,
to stop my pain to you
from me.
When I am cut
you bleed,
and when a burn
scorches my thick hide
and guilts my inside,
as I watch you suffer for my sin.
I hurt within,
as you writhe from a blow dealt by a kin.
There is no graze or scar
upon my body which she has not felt,
no beating I have dealt
upon myself
which has not gone to her
twicefold.
My heart burns cold
at the blow that she,
loveliest of creatures,
was dealt
me.
But, you see,
I've accepted that yin to my yang you must be.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
The wind used to howl,
but now it only cries.
The poignant sting of snow
used to ambush my eyes.
With Fall and Winter in a blur
all year is Summer and Spring.
I used to walk, walk with you
be pushed in a kiddie swing.
The geese were more afraid of me
than I was ever of them.
Oh, Memére,
how I miss the days together we would spend.
The sun still scorches,
but not as sweet,
as clouded with young eyes
You can’t compare a tropic spring
to dusted Autumn skies.
The pumpkins red,
lit up at night,
would glow upon your face.
In winter,
every snowflake seemed
to find its perfect place-
upon your window,
lit up with care,
those glowing,
plastic candles.
They’ve faded as the years have passed,
like sun-bleached, light-pink, sandles.
You’ve been lost,
like an age-pulled button.
Your stings have not held,
Your mind forgotten.
So I dig, I dig, through your sewing kit,
to stitch you back together.
At least for my own memory,
so I can remember forever.
Somehow I’m not as nimble,
somehow just not as quick.
I couldn’t find the seamstress in me
once you’d fallen sick.
I pump, I pump
the metal petal,
to piece you back together.
That button used so many times
in deadly, freezing, weather.
Somehow you slipped,
not just through my fingers,
but in a dreadful way, where the soul seldom lingers.
You just got worse
I cried to find
that stinking button
that was on my mind.
The final piece that would solve the puzzle
fix a confused mind,
your struggle.
Now I see,
now that you’re gone,
that I had had it all along.
The key, the clue, that wretched button.
And then it hit me,
all of a sudden.
Those trembling geese, the Autumn skies,
the snowflakes that had stung my eyes.
Those things are all I really need
to make sure your heart still beats.
Your eyes,
your chin,
your soft, thin hair,
all the answers
were always there.
Now whenever I miss you,
these gems of memories,
they pull me through.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 2:46 PM UTC
I am forged in a ceramic kiln,
and the sweltering heat embrittles me.
their withering stares set the kiln ablaze,
expecting me to stay rigid and brittle.
I attempted to constrict and be good,
but the fire slowly cracked me.
the heat still scorches my pieces,
but each piece inches closer
to the outskirts of the kiln
so I can find the sticky glue
and put myself back together.
Apr 20, 2022
Apr 20, 2022 at 11:59 PM UTC
I wait
I wonder why
the life
blood
has stopped
flowing from my
hands
I am a sapling in winter
stunted
frozen
brittle
I miss this
the photosynthesis
the static whisper
between paper
and finger
smudges
scorches
come spring
come forth
and I am a tree
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC