"sparks" poems
There comes a day in your life where you meet someone special…
You try so hard not to admit it but you just can’t hold back the way you feel…
I like you.
You get all those feelings…
Those butterflies you can’t stomach,
That heart rate you can’t put at ease,
So baby …
Sweetheart with the beautiful smile. Sure, I loved sleep
But dreams couldn't compare
Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest
And the butterflies in my stomach settled
Darling with the endless amount of love…
your love could fill the oceans and climb the tallest trees,
but could your love belong to me someday?
Be given to me?
Can you feel the way I do for you?
& Boy, sometimes I tangle my own fingers
Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream
Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind
And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here
Lover, who writes me poems,
You should know I write you too.
I write about you until my fingers ache
And still after that I keep writing
Because there's just some people you could write about forever
And baby, you're one of them.
And boy who played me a song,
Sweet sounds bow down to my ears,
And the way you play your guitar…
& the way I daydream about kissing your lips...
I can’t wait until the sparks of your tongue burn my mouth
send electric shocks through my body
Cutie… with the funny jokes,
You make me laugh.
Today you made me laugh,
like you always do,
you’re the only one who can now a days.
Baby, with those sparkling eyes,
Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not
And what haunts me more is the fact that
I can’t have you now
because you ruined it
It hurts to think about it,
So I have to block you out.
Play your songs to someone else,
Read your silly lines of heartache to someone else,
And go find… someone else.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
Burning fuel but not to leave,
boys circled town, came back
to the station where they began.
Gas exhaust drifted like spirits
above asphalt, dissolving in the night.
Girls stayed in the lot,
waiting for men old enough
to buy liquor, their names
claiming the land-
long after other names lay
buried in the ground.
They kept to the faces,
legs folded on hoods,
lip gloss catching the station lights,
bracelets chiming, hair flips rehearsed,
laughing at trucks circling back.
They wanted to be chosen, and I tried
to want that too- tried to be a girl among girls,
waiting for the moment some hand
would tug me out of the circle.
But my eyes kept straying-
across the street,
to the rise that was not just dirt
but a chest under earth,
ribs shifting,
a hum curling into my throat.
Something skeletal in its patience,
as if Baykok himself
were sharpening arrows in the dark,
waiting for breath to break.
Built long before us by Ojibwe,
still honored as sacred ground.
The others smoked, struck sparks,
sequins spilling from careless wrists,
never thinking how easily flame
might travel down, through us,
into what we couldn’t see.
I could hear bones shifting,
a buried drumbeat, the land’s own warning.
Every glance of the mound
pulled me back into silence.
It told me what the others
didn’t want to know-
that all this circling, waiting,
was only the lid of a grave.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 12:02 AM UTC
I heard the footsteps as they came across the road;
The snap of hurried feet outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds amongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two boys stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang! ~ set them running.
I cut them down; I cut them down!
I heard the sirens as the cops sped off the road;
The squeal of hurried wheels outside the house.
shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds amongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two cops stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two cops set out to chase the bang; Bang!
I put my hands up and the cops took me down!
Judge I’m guilty, it’s true for everything they said I did; I did!
But there were reasons, don’t you see:
These boys; they were bullying me!
I called the cops on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, came round again; still no one came; drove me insane;
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang set them running; I cut them down!
Two cops set out to chase the bang!
Bang! Yes, I put my hands up!
and the cops took me down!
But Mr Wolf gave me twenty,
and the circus came to town;
for as a victim I was lonely;
but as a killer; as a killer; I was crowned.
Newsworthy, top of the heap, the talk of the town!
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
I never knew what beauty was until I saw him
With every imperfection,
With every stumble,
and with every stutter,
My heart knocks hard inside my chest
Trying to escape
Hoping to be captured by his warm, calloused fingers.
And you don't even know who I am
That day you bumped into me
I dropped all my books
You helped me pick them up
And I got to look into your eyes
They were a lovely color
Not even Picasso could recreate
And you still don't even know who I am
We bumped into one another again at a party
You slurred apologies and "excuse me's"
And I laughed it off
Trying to Ignore the fact that your hand was creeping on my waist
Your fingertips igniting sparks in my skin
You held your deep gaze with your Picasso-colored eyes
And dragged me into a room tripping over nothing
I thought you finally knew who I was
The next day at school you bumped into me again
You had dropped my phone
This time you didn't pick it up
And you walked away without a second glance or apology
And you still don't even know who I am
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
I think of him like
the desert thinks of rain
wondering if there's
much to gain
'cause when he comes
he leaves me flooding
an exposed surface
left with nothing
but he still runs deep
absorbed entirely
a lifeline till
our storm sparks lightning
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
Never should I love,
For never will you love me.
Never will your deep, blue eyes
Look in mine and read my mind,
Like a psychic running her fingers along the lines of my palms.
Palms that belong to hands you’ll never hold,
And handle with care like you would antique china
And at the same time grip with a firmness that tells me you’ll never let go.
You’ll never let go because you’ll never wrap your soft,
warm arms around me in the first place.
Your soul will never entangle with mine and fill that void
Left by a **** sliced deep within me.
A **** left by my father’s youth,
And my mother’s faith,
Whose knife cut out their acceptance for me
And gouged out my trust in them.
Can’t you see that you are the antidote to my lifelong suffering?
The Accutane to my welted face,
The braces to my crooked teeth,
The nitro to my aching heart
The rhino to my bulging nose
The morphine to my broken mind,
The running to my fading health
Running, running, running away
Far away from this broken house
Where your dreams never do come true and
Where you come out to yourself alone in the bathroom and
Where they can’t ever know the truth because my house is
Where God resides in the attic and
Where Jesus is the only one you should let in your room at night and
Where The Holy Spirit has possessed us all to live a lie because my house is
Where lifelong love is dead at the delivery room
And who is there to blame but me?
Who is there to blame but me?
But none of that matters to you.
It can’t matter to you,
Because all you do is love
And love
And love
And love
And love.
But you never love me.
Each year I have known you
I have reached out farther than the last,
Yearning for something I could never obtain.
Fifteen pushes past Fourteen,
Both of whom fall short of Sixteen’s growing arms,
Which are narrowly outpaced by Seventeen’s spindly, wirey fingertips.
Every Year’s efforts have met the same fate;
Failing to reach their target they instead grasp fruitlessly
Into a dark, brewing storm,
Full of tears,
And of crackling sparks of hope
That are met with the resounding booms of fate
Telling me that I am doomed to be alone.
Telling me that never should I love,
For never will you love me.
But I never listen.
Because I know you too well.
And I know that someday,
Someday soon,
You’ll make the happy accident
Of stepping too close to my many straining hands,
And I’ll pull you near to me
And you’ll realize that you never loved her at all.
And that you always,
always have loved me.
-The Boy Who Loves You Too
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
*I stand at the feet
of this stunning sunset,
The sparks in my eyes,
light each star.*
***Rhythm of each twinkle,
synced with that of my own.
Strong and sure,
albeit few and far.***
*Nameless wind brings to me,
stories of silky clouds
I pull your smile deep in my heart
and finally can breathe.*
***Familiar words
without cloaks nor shrouds.
Just words...
Yours and mine to reveal what
our hearts would unsheathe.***
*What day is this?
Perfect to find
the rebirth of
freshly dewed dreams.*
***It isn't yesterday
nor is it tomorrow
It's today...
Where the sun would see us
weave our tapestries
through promise-bound seams.***
*I feel deep in my heart,
a fluttery stirring,
A hope,
a strength to reach out to you.*
***This hope you speak of...
Tethered by no thread or string
Mending my universe
and making it new.
So now I stand
at the end of this set...
Seeking the beacon
that I had known.
I'd again brave through this day
tomorrow...
Just so that I could hear your heart
that beats with my own...***
Dajena M
ryn
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
thoughts in endless swirling
like a storm
and un-rhythmic beats of my chest
distract me
i should be listening
but my head is lost
far, far gone
deep, deep it's sunk
maybe its your stupid smile
or your uneven words
i should be listening
but the sparks are distracting
oh,
they'll surely be a second date
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
From where I lingered in a lull in march
outside the sugar-house one night for choice,
I called the fireman with a careful voice
And bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch:
‘O fireman, give the fire another stoke,
And send more sparks up chimney with the smoke.’
I thought a few might tangle, as they did,
Among bare maple boughs, and in the rare
Hill atmosphere not cease to glow,
And so be added to the moon up there.
The moon, though slight, was moon enough to show
On every tree a bucket with a lid,
And on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow.
The sparks made no attempt to be the moon.
They were content to figure in the trees
As Leo, Orion, and the Pleiades.
And that was what the boughs were full of soon.
21.6k
i've tricked them once again
i made them believe that everything was fine.
******* I'm good,
even after all this time.
i'm too good at lying to myself,
I'm too good at pushing away the pain.
and even tricking myself
into believing I'm okay.
you're telling me to breathe
but my throat keeps closing.
you tell me to sleep,
but every night is darkness without dreams.
how am i supposed to write,
without spilling blood on the page.
but this is my job now,
and i need a decent grade.
like forcing a bird to sing for food,
you're wringing me out.
my mind dripping to the floor,
i can't create beautiful things anymore.
i'm writing everything over again.
repeating
repeating
repeating myself.
what do you want me to say?
that everything will be okay?
you want me to make my own light,
give myself a nicholas sparks ending.
because now I'm exposed,
I'm standing in front of you all.
and you can practically see the blood
dripping down my wrists.
with the world standing behind me,
its hard to keep my focus.
"make it pretty" she says,
"don't let them see you're already dead."
i can't turn tears to holy water,
or my own blood into wine.
i can't create beauty,
staring Darkness in the eyes.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 12:50 AM UTC
Did you know you sound blue
That I feel yellow when you laugh
That your small hums make the air orange
Did you know your handwriting is pastel
And the way you run your hands through your hair is aqua marine
And the way you walk is every shade of neon
Did you know that when you fidget I see sparks of silver
And your smile is scarlet red
And that when you look at me
I feel violet in my finger tips
Did you know that you are the number 7
Or that I smell amber when I read your name
Or that I can't call you just one,
Because every colour comes to mind
Whenever I think of you
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 6:08 AM UTC
Pick yourself up and dust off your shoulders
because you're a soldier and have no time to rest.
You can't escape this life because you sold your soul for this
and in the next year, you'll be buried right under your feet, six feet deep.
Will it be your hell?
Tied up alone surrounded by nothing but chains
for years and years.
Calling out to empty shadows and swallowing dust over these times.
Will it be your heaven?
In the summer of ninety-six
with the night lite up with fireworks on the fourth.
Chasing the sparks because you're a child again.
Pick your feet up and march to the drums of your family.
You promised to always protect your family
and this is all you know to do.
Giving up your life for your brother's
is what you were trained to do.
Your heart is weak but warm.
But you will not be needing it for long.
You find peace in the night
but always keep a candle lit,
to keep an eye on your brother
because he is all there is.
Things can't be rewritten or reversed.
You've just got a confused mind
and acted out of grief.
But you're always able to rewind to the night
a bullet took your brother.
These lifeforms made a deal for you, that they knew you'd take.
They could care less about your feelings.
They could **** without warning,
but you trust them with your brother's life on this one.
So now you stand a man with a deal to die
but it's all worth it because now your brother can live.
Selling your life so he can have his back was the best birthday present
you could give.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
From below
Desire climbs
Up the channels
Of my mind
Shot of whiskey
Glass of wine
Now the ladies
Are looking fine
From the top
Going down
Love strikes fast
When I'm around
From within
My idle mind
Sparks a flame
Of desire design
A shot of whiskey
A glass of wine
Now all the men
Are lookin fine
A little flirt
A little smile
I think I’ll stay
A little while
....
Traveler Tim
& Cné
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an
angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and
Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous,
prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats!
Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote.
They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and
revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries.
They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial! Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric,
neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ****** exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features
resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire,
perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed;
born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce,
pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and
pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and
stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride...
Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song,
song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a
child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India,
India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns
and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two
different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
Under the primrose stars, the lovers
Lie abed, on green, threadbare croft
Of sleeping daisy, clover and moss,
Trails with hushed air, an embroidery
So fine as to stitch blushing heart fall
And wrap the waters full of quietude
In graces, winding, soft, granulating
Time, wings flutter and hum, winsome
Sparks, fire white, flying as little suns
Burst confetti, in sweet encampment,
Of grass and sapling wood, innocents,
Charmed are wholly twining, in moon
Rise a lantern to the winking heavens,
Out of their skins they are climbing.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
it's time for christmas baking
whether you know how to or not
the thing you must remember
is that the oven gets quite hot
it's not that i'm an imbesile
or that my mind is set on slow
there's things 'bout christmas baking
that everyone should know
turning up the temperature
will not make things bake much quicker
and you'll never get your baking done
if you start hitting the liquor
liquor helps but not that way
it's for the the recipe...not you
because the first drink goes down smooth
it always tastes like two
my icing stuck to everything
it even melted on my cat
the dog thought fluffy was his treat
and that my friends was that
metal in the microwave
makes great sparks but doesn't cook
in fact it's quite explosive
if you take the time to look
peanut butter rollups
are easy and look cool
but with so many kids allergic
you can't sell them at the school
the best way to do baking
is to buy them from the store
put them on a plate you own
and don't say any more
if people want the recipe
say it's secret, you can't tell
you're granny took it to her grave
besides, they all do this as well
take my advice on baking
don't bake if you can buy
because you'll never get it perfect
no matter how you try.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Rivers of Babylon flows on biceps
Hairly face, pin nose of unmade make up
Sparks beauty in her lonely sky face
Which suitors commit adultery in words
For wishes of closeness, I wish in millions in one day
Time only divide us, but our soul are conjugated
On a plain of misty air, how beautiful and sad it is
Our wishes drown us onto the path of loneliness
Did you see loneliness my love ?
But why I can't see it my love ?
How about our God ?
I am in your vast blue sky,
and every night I am sleeping in your warm heart
Filling the gap that resides in me
For all my breathe belongs to you
My days of soil and unsoiled cloaks you in me
I love your hands...دست های تو را دوست دارم for they are divine
In it does the words of love burn like the sun
Making the lonely persian jasmine smile
As the gulf waves secret writing on your heart
I Belteshazzar love the writing till the end of my life
Solemn steel avouch with sun and water
Yet the loose their beauty crying to the air for help
Humans without their eyes are still beautiful
So their loneliness become a persian jewelry
Written by
Martin Ijir
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
When I look at you
You send shivers
No – sparks.
The air is charged with them
Dense.
I can feel just how much of it
is between us –
(always too much)
And I want more than anything
To cross it –
Wade through the ions
to you.
To only stop when my lips
Meet yours
(the only way I have found
to get rid of the air)
and you take my breath away.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
The night sky we see
is not the same,
as the one our ancestors looked upon.
Stars have faded,
urban sprawl has invaded,
and the once perfect span of night
may be lost in our sea of light.
The busy people do not notice.
No one looks to the stars anymore
The thick black sky,
speckled with whispers of distant life.
Beautiful lanterns floating in the dark.
Guardians of our universe,
watch life dance with death,
as they silently fade away.
There are no more answers from the gods.
No more stories in the night.
No more questioning how everybody came to have life.
The world is too busy,
drenched in it's artificial light.
Too busy to get lost in this magnificent expanse.
Too busy to look to our creators.
The sparks that create life.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Doom train hurtling along
Through the fog in my mind
Towing freight, rectangular and oblong
Dim headlights, you're travelling blind
Five carriages long, excluding engine and caboose
Metal against metal, spitting sparks on steel
Undetermined path, rails will choose
Chugging along on dirt covered wheels
In the cabin, I see the light
Emanating from your furnace
Swallowing up coals in your gaping bite
Tongues of flames licking the surface
Fire breathing, spewing thick black smoke
Almost unseen, against the dark of night
A long plumy arm as if extending to choke
And plug the remaining sources of light
Meandering precariously on tracks that weave
Over uncharted, unfathomable terrain
Your store, so reliably you heave
Worming your way through my brain
What's in that cargo of yours?
What lies within those boxcars?
What drives you to diligently run your course?
What fuels you to travel near and far?
Loads of self pity, self loathing and self reproach
Snaking your way to an unknown destination
Screeching brakes as if a stop you approach
Herald the train of dubious intentions
Light is upon you, dark will dissipate
Your plumes starting to lessen from your stack
The dawn breaking horizon you didn't anticipate
To see another charging towards you on this very same track...
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
~
think again if you believe
light is but a rapid blur,
consider that the spark
that lives between
two lover-friends, is light
exchanged in slow fashion;
the slow burn of a campfire,
the sparkle of her passion,
the flicker of a candle,
whisperings of the starlight,
the way a moon beam
bends the tides,
and makes her eyes twinkle;
each my confirmation,
of light that moves
so satisfying slow,
allowing flames to ever grow
ever higher, higher,
kindling sparks into a fire,
for love that lasts
is not a spark alone...
no,
love’s passion is a bon fire,
a sunset setting sky aglow;
an ever-building slow,
to effervescent ether;
a gently flowing kiss,
a living, colored tapestry
of drifting twilight mist;
this the speed of light...
my heart’s desire,
mirrored in my lover’s eyes.
~
*post script.
love at the speed of sunsets and star gazing;
evenings spent round the campfire
with only the light of the fire,
the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes...
falling in love, all over again!*
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
That night we danced until the party was over for some.
It was fun and I wished it always felt like that...and we weren't even together.
It was so loud when I whispered into your ear youmissed it..
You thought I wanted to meet you somewhere....
And I wish I had.
Guess we both missed the chance for sparks...
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
I am writing this just to keep sane
Stop switching lanes and deal with the pain
I’m going to stay same and never give in to shame
I don’t see this as a game, what I’m saying is real
That’s why you feel every line that I spill
Every emotion comes from the notion
That we are the panacea for the poison
Explosion of our hearts started with the sparks
That ignited our greed amidst the dark
So now we find ourselves led by the misled
Bred like a hoard of cattle waiting to be shred
We focus on materials and ignore the cries
‘Cause it’s easier to watch from an iPad, as a baby dies
We work, struggle, and beg for a promotion
Instead of pouring our hearts into a positive devotion
Every person fueled by their own ambition
And integrity is at loss on our way to this mission
By Vladislav Vagner
http://www.poemjunction.net
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Pele, goddess of fire
The ocean has masked your flame
Your spirit drowned and chained
A name to which you do not recall
As though your glass
Is full of life's gall
I give you this name
Pele, of flame
That maybe your spirit be free
Escape this empty shallow sea
And use your feet to fly
Dance like the ever changing sky
Like mountain flames on distant isles
Like sparks that travel miles
Dance like the fires that burn the air
Make every step a scorching flare
That is the story I wish to tell
The story of hells angel
But here you lay on the oceans floor
You do not dance a dance no more
But once we escape this ocean of blue
I'll tell all that I meet
The story of you
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC