"smoulder" poems
When you kiss me,
I don't think you realise,
but my lips turn into an explosion of electricity
on your dead circuit board mouth.
Let me revive you.
Let me shock you into submission.
Let me make your hair stand on end,
your knees tremble.
Either that, or just smash my bulb.
My light flickers when I see you with somebody else,
and what use is a dim light to anybody?
Apart from the little extra illumination it shines on you.
Maybe I could rewire you.
Maybe I could flip a switch.
Maybe I could turn on your lips and you could kiss me,
kiss
me,
under a streetlamp.
Maybe you could be my light in the dark.
I think there's been a power cut.
I can't see.
My eyes are under a blanket of darkness,
and your light has gone out.
I guess I'll just have to switch on mine
whilst you smoulder for another
brighter,
more beautiful light.
Time to pull the plug.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
Tumble down, fall part, fragment,
Become the figment of the imagination,
that enchanted your dreams.
Create the spell,
Beautiful and powerful, like the whispers of Merlin
Torch that dark sky.
Scorch, blacken and smoulder,
Mold thou from the ashes,
The Fortune of a Moghul.
Hold your head high,
Become that figment of your imagination,
Jiggery pokery your spell;
Roar like a Dragon,
that wit and intelligence,
The world shall bow to you.
Saurabh.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
deep in a stargazing trance
i stumble through the night
in the darkest hour
a star-crossed lover's stupor
bewitched by constellation filled eyes
tangled in star studded netting
and silently screaming
- i am not a frightful nightmare
- nor a heavenly dream
- merely flesh, bones, lungs, heart...
the closing of night
still woven in intricate webbing
the rising sun's warmth
'tis but the scorch of fate's kiss
i shall smoulder and disappear
with perspiring flesh
shivering bones
panting lungs
pounding heart...
jolted awake
'twas but a dream?
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 4:18 AM UTC
Raindrops dance on my shoulders
as the fires inside of me
begin to smoulder.
Distraction is an amazing thing.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
There goes Lady Fate,
donned in solar sparks
and her lace corset
whose overt promiscuity
catches the attention of
one unsuspecting astronaut–
his helm fogs as he exhales,
his breath crude and lascivious.
Even Neptune’s eyes themselves
glitter wetly with passion
as she struts towards Polaris in
her pinprick stilettos.
She adjusts her stance accordingly:
I. Purse lips into a smoulder
(might as well look
pretty while ya get the job done.)
II. Aim for the desired target
(that there’s the bull’s eye.)
III. Wreak havoc
just as any Fate is meant to do.
(But, of course.)
She picks up her staff and fires.
The universe tremors
in an unbridled spiral
of colour and chaos
as the planets
d a r t
about like billiards, * * *
colliding/|\with/|\ the/|\ stars
who, in the midst of the madness,
d i v e r g e and c* r* o* s s
for fear of being vanquished.
A cluster of mismatched constellations
and forsaken cosmic particles
settle into a state of
mutual negligence and destruction.
And, together, they liquefy into
a festering pool of molten silver.
Lady Fate grins–
yes, she has the stars right
where she wants them now–
and, in a final act of defiance,
she strikes against the earth
and watches with satisfaction as
it hurtles towards the silver
and sinks down into the molten
like an eight ball.
(And everyone knows it’s
Game Over
once you’ve sunk the eight ball).
From where she stands–
bent over Polaris
in seductive pretentiousness —
she relishes
in the screams
of some wretched lover–
the first to ever be
betrayed by the stars.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
Your eyes smoulder with an imagination that is even bolder than I could have dreamed and colder than this toxic air we've been forced to breathe.
You write poetry across your face to form a Gas mask of rythym, blocking out the hate yet sealing in ideas that might frustrate you.
You hear the birds in the trees and you read the articles in every magazine, you take in information like the bees to the Queen.
Your thoughts radiate an aura surrounding your entire body, you bleed history and pop culture facts, you need the written word like an addict needs their cigarette packs.
You're empathetic to your core, you feel what everyone else does so you hide yourself in your mind until you can categorize the emotions from the lies.
I know you can feel the love in your heart even through all the cracks, like a weathered and torn apart roadmap but you're taped together perfectly and even with a few wrong turns you always find your way back to me.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
You are beautiful and faded
Like an old opera tune
Played upon a harpsichord;
Or like the sun-flooded silks
Of an eighteenth-century boudoir.
In your eyes
Smoulder the fallen roses of out-lived minutes,
And the perfume of your soul
Is vague and suffusing,
With the pungence of sealed spice-jars.
Your half-tones delight me,
And I grow mad with gazing
At your blent colours.
My vigour is a new-minted penny,
Which I cast at your feet.
Gather it up from the dust,
That its sparkle may amuse you.
3.3k
When we first stood, those fifty years ago,
outside the church together, man and wife,
we had no way of knowing if our life
was bound for sun and smiles or tears and snow.
In the event, we had our share of each.
When children came, as we continued longer,
the highs and lows made our love all the stronger,
and happiness was never out of reach.
Together, then, we've weathered many a storm,
and having lasted now for half a century
I think we're justified to call it victory
to know our love continues just as warm.
(Although age may reduce youth's fiery passion,
a long, slow smoulder's never out of fashion.)
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Enter thy come and take your place
No blade will forsaken your face
When the moon has bled
The sun has fled
The father shall bleed
While the son shall flee
Stand on and keep thy paste
Stop moving and thoust be erased
Steel, Fire, Ice, Thunder
This sword been built for smoulder
Hands crumble of blisters
Soul full of cleansers
Thy crafted blade made whole
Thy blade legend be in scroll
Blade coated within strychnine
Behold thy master design
This blade crafted for revenge
Thy uses it for only purifying
No need for revenge
For karma has been healing!
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 9:24 PM UTC
The cold side of the bed seems so far away,
Wrapped in the sheets are the sounds of breathing,
Pieces of you and I still smoulder in the ashtray,
Tobacco kisses and shots of *** in the evening.
Exorcisms couldn't even lift the haunting presence
Of a heavy heart which carries the weight of worlds.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
The gravity of this reality is holding me down
This life is too heavy to hold on my weak shoulder
I cannot stand, I fall to my knees on the ground
Surrounded by my dreams as they slowly begin to smoulder
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 8:51 PM UTC
The Captain and I are shipmates tonight.
We ride out the storm together till morning light.
A glass full of his wisdom by my side in repose,
where his torrent of words will take me, who knows?
But a sentence reaches me by the bedside lamp's glow.
The truth of it kills
and I wish it unsaid.
*** He whispers "won't fill
an empty bed,"
"Yes..." I sadly opine.
"But it dulls the pain...
fills my senses just fine."
The Captain nods, satisfied, and the ship rumbles
as it is tossed about by wind and rain.
He motions in the cabin boy, who tumbles
inside, and pours me another glass of pain.
Red like her lips.
Dark like her eyes.
Heady like her scent.
Fluid like her hips...
The Captain grabs my shoulder.
"Forget her." His eyes smoulder
louder than hers...
I reach for the wine.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Winter's amber fire
the ashen woods we burned
wet smoulder of mire
the water and the fire.
Dark ancestral home
nights moon shivering cold
stars fixed or falling
beyond the skies fiery yields
only dying embers
lost in oblivion's field.
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
She quintessentially embodied the phrase
‘Paragon of beauty’
Perfectly chiselled face
Symmetrical features and a smile that could
Smoulder one’s heart in a millisecond
She had an aura of nonchalance around her
And an umbrella delicately balanced over her head
Despite it being scorching hot
She walked as if in fear of hurting
The very ground she trod on
Attracting surreptitious glances from passers-by.
I stood rooted to the exact spot I had stood ages before
In utter awe and wonderment at the breath taking sight I beheld
Then out of the blue she appeared to be on the verge of kissing the ground
I instantaneously lurched forward to her rescue
She, landing appropriately in mine outstretched arms
The look on her face * priceless*
Discomfiture and fear apparently evident on her face
Soothingly I assured her all was indeed well
Whilst revelling in the idea that I had come to the rescue
Of the exceedingly beautiful lady.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
When we were younger
We'd sit and play for hours
With dolls and beads and flowers
With toy cars and train tracks
And at the end of the day
We'd pack them away and put them all back.
We'd go down by the river
And laugh and shiver
And joke about growing old
Little did we know
What was about to unfold
As we grew older, the fires inside of us, began to smoulder,
The shoulders we'd come to rely on
Started to decay
As we made our way, into the world
Suddenly the dolls came to life
As our dreams of becoming a husband, a wife
Started to sour.
The beads formed nooses around our necks
As we began to lose our innocence
To drugs and ***
The flowers shrivelled up and died
As we sat and cried our own rivers to drown in.
And those pretty little halos and silver tin crows
That used to iron out our frowns
S
l
i
p
p
e
d,
as we d i p p e d our toes into adulthood.
The toy cars crashed,
As we smashed head on, in a collision with reality.
And there was so need to plead
For the box with our train track toys
Because the little girls and boys inside us
Had died long ago.
And besides
We drew our own tracks up and down our wrists
And straight through our hearts.
As we began to realise
We were running out of
Fresh starts and new beginnings.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
Rondeau
With not a sigh a tear or care
In gentle arms of midnight dare
Where dreams of wildest breeze elope
Roams twilight’s bless of softly hope
Toward an acquiesce of share
Warm snuggle now in cashmere bare
Suggestive of their sweet affair
A passion dance of thrill devote
With not a sigh
Tho drawn a more attentive pair
His smoulder deep, her raven hair
A love explored of wordly cope
For love there is no antidote
In mingle destiny’s somewhere
With not a sigh
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
When we were younger
We'd sit and play for hours
With dolls and beads and flowers
With toy cars and train tracks
And at the end of the day
We'd pack them away and put them all back.
We'd go down by the river
And laugh and shiver
And joke about growing old
Little did we know
What was about to unfold
As we grew older, the fires inside of us, began to smoulder,
The shoulders we'd come to rely on
Started to decay
As we made our way, into the world
Suddenly the dolls came to life
As our dreams of becoming a husband, a wife
Started to sour.
The beads formed nooses around our necks
As we began to lose our innocence
To drugs and ***
The flowers shrivelled up and died
As we sat and cried our own rivers to drown in.
And those pretty little halos and silver tin crows
That used to iron out our frowns
S
l
i
p
p
e
d,
as we d i p p e d our toes into adulthood.
The toy cars crashed,
As we smashed head on, in a collision with reality.
And there was so need to plead
For the box with our train track toys
Because the little girls and boys inside us
Had died long ago.
And besides
We drew our own tracks up and down our wrists
And straight through our hearts.
As we began to realise
We were running out of
Fresh starts and new beginnings.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
Taste this sugar that i've melted onto your eyes
let me peel away and smoulder past my disguise
lets drop all our luggage and shoes at the door
we don't need our baggage or to run any more
The bed of possibility lays forever warm and sweet
the blankets, but a doorway, the pillow, the street
lets walk along the banks of our imagination sea
discussing hypothetical should would could be's
then turn them around and laugh in the moment's charm
none of it matters, thread your arm through my arm
we can stroll together, in this timeless shore
Fill my bones with your horizon and let me explore
all that makes you smile,
in this moment's core.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
Splattered like my fractured heart,
Upon the sky like sensual art.
Blood red and dazzling with sequins.
Her dress drags out my desire,
Her lips smoulder the inner hate filled fire.
The sun is her bloodstain,
Drawing from the blues that wane
Her body was her rapture.
In this dirtiest of endeavours,
My pain weathers.
Even in your death people see only you.
Which is a gift to those that hate you.
For your death is easier to cover,
If no one suspects the lover.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 5:14 PM UTC
the summer’s great lizard hides
under a rock,
the summer sings of ending days, of
lonely horizons and crystal seas,
we smoulder in the sunshine
where the clouds flow in their
drifting streams, their ridges like
colossal ledges on the mountains
of the world.
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 2:47 PM UTC
I got goosebumbs on my shoulders
Dont gradate, you better smoulder
I said “I’ll tell you when you’re older”
Tie your noose with a game controller
Eat my shorts when it gets colder
Pebble, pebble, broken boulder
She says “I hate your face,” you hold her
Got a sweet tooth, hollow molar
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
If I couldst show to thee the measure of my love, wouldst thine eyes shine in radiant hues? Smoulder then in deepest lapis blues, that put to shame the very rainbow's best intent.
If I couldst share with thee, the hottest of my humors, wouldst not the boilings in that abyssal pit, pale and mediocre seem, as 'twere mine, in compare? It would melt old Vulcans's anvil, adamantine!
Take for thee, these my softest kisses, which, placed upon lips, seeming to mine own essence, as pillowed angels breath, yet, those godly messengers own sweetest puckerings, as granite, to those of my mistress.
If thou couldst pluck from my chest, a still beating heart, wouldst not the sanguine, boiling streams, scold the unforgiving stones, on which they splash?
The fiery vapours rending air, as heaven bound they rise to paint the sky, incarnadine!
And yet, merely moistening that beloved hand, which holds, the fleshy, ruby prize.
Canst thou now measure, that which knows no measure?
And like heavens starried twinkles, whose beacons point the way, know this, infinite, is the measure of my love for thee, my mistress.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
If I am Queen of Scotland and you are King
We will wander thro’ all the castles, you and I.
Who knows what the years ahead will bring?
One thing I know, we will see endless Skye.
We will feel so small but yet so free;
Mother Earth steady beneath our feet
On every blade of grass, to the highest tree
We can curl up and sink into sleep.
Scotland, O Scotland! Here we come whilst we are still at one,
Your pipers, bagpipes and drums tug at our heartstrings
When dusk falls and all is said and done,
Only the Gods know what the future brings.
My heart yearns for you, your passion and your fire;
Your world is strangely dark and deep.
Can a heart smoulder with such love and desire,
Mesmerised by your magic and mysteries, and secrets you keep.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:12 AM UTC
Were my words....
the hands
that sculpted
the heartbeat
of your soul
into the breath
that passed
across my shoulders,
in places where
your fingertips
brushed back my
hair, exposing
the curve
of my neck...
Were my thoughts,
a bridge, I traveled
into a place where
time stood still,
save for the
moonlight whispers
of your...
Fantasy
cascading down
the passages
of my dreams,
turned the brightest
shade of scarlet
for the want of you,
burned
Monet to skin
I lay, undone
Longing to be
the Masterpiece
you create
with your touch,
aching to feel the
soul you paint
into my eyes
Glazed, windows
to the fire,
banked no more
let free,
to burn, cinders
Ash ascends,
quickens the breath
that become the
wings of crimson
glow, born of
inhalations of
distant blue...
graze the smoulder
that pierces the
horizon,
invisible heat,
seeking the
source with
eyes of touch,
requiring no
preordained
destination...
Let fall, the rain
Staccato,
to cleanse our
flesh, slick
with the wet
of salvations
thirst, strums
to move our
souls, to one
Twined
into frenzied limbs
I reach for
the fire in you
out of the ashes
let us rise, reborn
to worship
the heat of day
as you carve your
Absolution
into my palms
raised to the
glory of nights
inhaling sunrise
My words....
hands that sculpted
the heartbeat
of your soul
Moistened in
the reign,
fingerprints,
tracing the
press upon
skin, as they
tingle...
indulging
in a season,
somewhere in between
a winter without creed,
and the spring of our
confessions,
spilling over the banks
of our deliverance....
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 4:48 PM UTC
Anything for a friend
Means not only petty favours
Or discounts on coffee.
Kindness, is it really?
At 3am, holding your hair back
Mouth waters, yearning for a taste
Of the promised land, so close.
Kindred matchstick kindle
Almost small enough to slip through the cracks.
"Malady, my lady, I have none."
Only silver strength and iron will.
Killing you with a smoulder, caressing lost lover
As surely as the nuMbing cOld finally maKes you feel anything at all.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC