Citatepedia^®.com

From the frying pan into the fire.

Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Out Of The Frying Pan

out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
It's only two o'clock and the temperture's beginning to soar
And all around the city you see the walking wounded and the living dead
It's never been this hot and i've never been so bored
And breathing is just no fun anymore
And then i saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
I saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
You can feel the pulse of the pavement racing like a runaway horse
The subways are steaming and the skin of the street is gleaming with sweat
I've seen you sitting on the steps outside
And you were looking so restless and reckless and lost
I think it's time for you to come inside
I'll be waiting here with something that you'll never forget
I think it's time for you to come inside
I'll be waiting here with something that you'll never forget
Come on! come on!
And there'll be no turning back
You were only killing time and it'll kill you right back
Come on! come on!
It's time to burn up the fuse
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
So wander down the ancient hallway
Taking the stairs only one at a time
Follow the sound of my heartbeat now
I'm in the room at the top, you're at the end of the line
Open the door and lay down on the bed
The sun is just a ball of desire
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire!
It's only two o'clock and the tempertures beginning to soar
And all around the city you see the walking wounded and the living dead
It's never been this hot and i've never been so bored
And breathing is just no fun anymore
And then i saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
I saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
Come on! come on!
And there'll be no turning back

[...] Read more

song performed by Meat Loaf
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Hymn to Pan

Thrill with lissome lust of the light,
O man ! My man !
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan ! Io Pan .
Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady !
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and styrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white ass, come over the sea
To me, to me,
Coem with Apollo in bridal dress
(Spheperdess and pythoness)
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thigh, beautiful God,
In the moon, of the woods, on the marble mount,
The dimpled dawn of of the amber fount !
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantoness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarled bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain -come over the sea,
(Io Pan ! Io Pan !)
Devil or god, to me, to me,
My man ! my man !
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill !
Come with drums low muttering
From the spring !
Come with flute and come with pipe !
Am I not ripe ?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, weary of empty clasp,
Strong as a lion, and sharp as an asp-
Come, O come !
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,
All devourer, all begetter;
Give me the sign of the Open Eye
And the token erect of thorny thigh
And the word of madness and mystery,
O pan ! Io Pan !
Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Pan Pan ! Pan,
I am a man:
Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,
O Pan ! Io Pan !
Io pan ! Io Pan Pan ! Iam awake

[...] Read more

poem by Aleister Crowley
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fire Ferocious

Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.

You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Selecting to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.

Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.

In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
To blackened vista now unmanned.

Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.

Destruction be your only goal
For you to vent your jealous wrath
On gentle life with caring soul
And human victims to console:
As you are none, but psychopath.

Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.

So there it is – you are but flame:
Reacting gases to adorn –
With orange flicks of flailing arms,
You’re flaunting your demonic charms!
Now leave us for bereaved to mourn.

Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.

So many lives to claim.

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dryad Song

When the wolds of Lycaeus are silvery fair,
When Maenalian forests are doubtful and dim,
When the hound strains the leash and the wolf quits his lair,
And the startled fawn flies from the fountain's cool rim;
When with panting delight we impatiently follow
The shuddering stags over hillock and hollow,—
A form from the shadows comes bounding out,
And we know it is Pan by his horrid shout.

A form from the shadows comes bounding out,
At head of the Satyrs' impetuous rout,
And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
We know it is Pan by his horrid shout!

When hidden with Dian in deep woodland bower,
We loosen her quiver, her sandals unbind,
Bathe her beautiful feet in the pearl-trickling shower,
Pellucid and pure; when we deftly enwind
The silvery fillet that clasps and caresses
The wonder and wealth of her shadowy tresses,—

A face through the pleachèd blooms stealthily peers,
And we know it is Pan by his furry ears.

A face through the pleachèd blooms stealthily peers,
Makes mouths to affright us, then mocks at our fears,
And we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
We know it is Pan by his furry ears!

When, shunning the shafts of Apollo at noon,
To the kindly green coverts we thankfully creep,
Athirst for fresh runnels, and ready to swoon,—
Oft, sudden we come to one fallen asleep:
Fallen asleep midst the tangles and grasses
That trip up the confident clown as he passes,
And fearful we peep at the form supine,
For we know it is Pan, though he makes no sign.

And fearful we peep at the form supine,
With the hoofs of a goat and the brow divine,
For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,
We know it is Pan, though he makes no sign!

When the shepherds are gone from the sunset hills,
When evening is mildest in dingle and dale,
Through the hush comes a sound that enraptures and thrills,

Light wafted along on the tremulous gale:
So passionate-sweet, so wildly out-welling,
That Landon hears it with bosom swelling.

[...] Read more

poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Pan Of Sorrows

I will give you the grain of tears,
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
O, tender of the fire.

Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.

I am late already,
The shadows are fading,
The cattle have returned,
From the forest.
The birds have raised their clamor.
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
Tender of the fire.

Hurry, be quick,
I have far to go,
To the place
Where my companions have gone.
I have heard the road to that town is difficult
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

When my turn comes,
Your bale of kindling is damp.
Why has your earthen pan
Become flaccid?
What has gone wrong with your fire?
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

Mine is just a handful of grains,
Roast them, and let me go on my way,
Don't leave them raw,
Roast them well.
I beg you, bring an end to this wrangling,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

The wind has dropped,
Its mournful weeping ended.
A sweet heat
Is rising in the stars.
My breaths are like a marriage procession
Whose bridegroom is displeased.
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
O tender of the fire.

Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.

poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Vetela Divas Ni Yaad

A Vetela Divas ni yad ma maru Aaj pan rade che..
A karmi vela ne yad ma maru haiyu pan kampe che..

A Bhujata Diva ni zakhi,
ane
MAA ni Aankh na A Aashu..
a Bhukhya pet ni Nidaru,
mari Aankh ne pan jab kave che...

A Vetela Divas ni yad ma maru Aaj pan rade che..
A karmi vela ne yad ma maru haiyu pan kampe che..

Nathi Mobh..Nathi Mobho..Nathi Ghar ke baar...
Nathi koi Valida kero saath....

A Vetela Divas ni yad ma maru Aaj pan rade che..
A karmi vela ne yad ma maru haiyu pan kampe che..

Duniya ne to tyare Moaj Hati,
pan! ! !
Amare to Rotla ni Khot hati...

A Vetela Divas ni yad ma maru Aaj pan rade che..
A karmi vela ne yad ma maru haiyu pan kampe che..

poem by Sandeep Jahaal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Pan liveth

They told me once that Pan was dead,
And so, in sooth, I thought him;
For vainly where the streamlets led
Through flowery meads I sought him--
Nor in his dewy pasture bed
Nor in the grove I caught him.
"Tell me," 'twas so my clamor ran--
"Tell me, oh, where is Pan?"

But, once, as on my pipe I played
A requiem sad and tender,
Lo, thither came a shepherd-maid--
Full comely she and slender!
I were indeed a churlish blade
With wailings to offend 'er--
For, surely, wooing's sweeter than
A mourning over Pan!

So, presently, whiles I did scan
That shepherd-maiden pretty,
And heard her accents, I began
To pipe a cheerful ditty;
And so, betimes, forgot old Pan
Whose death had waked my pity;
So--so did Love undo the man
Who sought and pined for Pan!

He was not dead! I found him there--
The Pan that I was after!
Caught in that maiden's tangling hair,
Drunk with her song and laughter!
I doubt if there be otherwhere
A merrier god or dafter--
Nay, nor a mortal kindlier than
Is this same dear old Pan!

Beside me, as my pipe I play,
My shepherdess is lying,
While here and there her lambkins stray
As sunny hours go flying;
They look like me--those lambs--they say,
And that I'm not denying!
And for that sturdy, romping clan,
All glory be to Pan!

Pan is not dead, O sweetheart mine!
It is to hear his voices
In every note and every line
Wherein the heart rejoices!
He liveth in that sacred shrine

[...] Read more

poem by Eugene Field
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Book VI - Part 02 - Great Meteorological Phenomena, Etc

And so in first place, then
With thunder are shaken the blue deeps of heaven,
Because the ethereal clouds, scudding aloft,
Together clash, what time 'gainst one another
The winds are battling. For never a sound there come
From out the serene regions of the sky;
But wheresoever in a host more dense
The clouds foregather, thence more often comes
A crash with mighty rumbling. And, again,
Clouds cannot be of so condensed a frame
As stones and timbers, nor again so fine
As mists and flying smoke; for then perforce
They'd either fall, borne down by their brute weight,
Like stones, or, like the smoke, they'd powerless be
To keep their mass, or to retain within
Frore snows and storms of hail. And they give forth
O'er skiey levels of the spreading world
A sound on high, as linen-awning, stretched
O'er mighty theatres, gives forth at times
A cracking roar, when much 'tis beaten about
Betwixt the poles and cross-beams. Sometimes, too,
Asunder rent by wanton gusts, it raves
And imitates the tearing sound of sheets
Of paper- even this kind of noise thou mayst
In thunder hear- or sound as when winds whirl
With lashings and do buffet about in air
A hanging cloth and flying paper-sheets.
For sometimes, too, it chances that the clouds
Cannot together crash head-on, but rather
Move side-wise and with motions contrary
Graze each the other's body without speed,
From whence that dry sound grateth on our ears,
So long drawn-out, until the clouds have passed
From out their close positions.
And, again,
In following wise all things seem oft to quake
At shock of heavy thunder, and mightiest walls
Of the wide reaches of the upper world
There on the instant to have sprung apart,
Riven asunder, what time a gathered blast
Of the fierce hurricane hath all at once
Twisted its way into a mass of clouds,
And, there enclosed, ever more and more
Compelleth by its spinning whirl the cloud
To grow all hollow with a thickened crust
Surrounding; for thereafter, when the force
And the keen onset of the wind have weakened
That crust, lo, then the cloud, to-split in twain,
Gives forth a hideous crash with bang and boom.
No marvel this; since oft a bladder small,

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Book I - Part 06 - Confutation Of Other Philosophers

And on such grounds it is that those who held
The stuff of things is fire, and out of fire
Alone the cosmic sum is formed, are seen
Mightily from true reason to have lapsed.
Of whom, chief leader to do battle, comes
That Heraclitus, famous for dark speech
Among the silly, not the serious Greeks
Who search for truth. For dolts are ever prone
That to bewonder and adore which hides
Beneath distorted words, holding that true
Which sweetly tickles in their stupid ears,
Or which is rouged in finely finished phrase.
For how, I ask, can things so varied be,
If formed of fire, single and pure? No whit
'Twould help for fire to be condensed or thinned,
If all the parts of fire did still preserve
But fire's own nature, seen before in gross.
The heat were keener with the parts compressed,
Milder, again when severed or dispersed-
And more than this thou canst conceive of naught
That from such causes could become; much less
Might earth's variety of things be born
From any fires soever, dense or rare.
This too: if they suppose a void in things,
Then fires can be condensed and still left rare;
But since they see such opposites of thought
Rising against them, and are loath to leave
An unmixed void in things, they fear the steep
And lose the road of truth. Nor do they see,
That, if from things we take away the void,
All things are then condensed, and out of all
One body made, which has no power to dart
Swiftly from out itself not anything-
As throws the fire its light and warmth around,
Giving thee proof its parts are not compact.
But if perhaps they think, in other wise,
Fires through their combinations can be quenched
And change their substance, very well: behold,
If fire shall spare to do so in no part,
Then heat will perish utterly and all,
And out of nothing would the world be formed.
For change in anything from out its bounds
Means instant death of that which was before;
And thus a somewhat must persist unharmed
Amid the world, lest all return to naught,
And, born from naught, abundance thrive anew.
Now since indeed there are those surest bodies
Which keep their nature evermore the same,
Upon whose going out and coming in
And changed order things their nature change,

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fire

I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire
Fire, fire, fire, fire!
When I was a youth I used to burn cali weed in a rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a
When I was a youth I used to burn cali weed in a rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a
When I was a youth I used to burn cali weed in a rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a
I am rocking!
When I was a youth I used to burn cali weed in a rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a
Fire - When I was a youth I used to burn cali weed in a - fire -
rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a
Fire - When I was a youth I used to burn cali weed in a - fire -
rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a-rizzler-a
Fire, fire, fire, fire
I am rocking!
Fire!
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire!
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire!
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire!
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire!
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire, fire, fire!
I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you... fire, fire, fire, fire, fire!

song performed by Prodigy
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Brunt Of The Heat

A frying cake blamed a frying pan
And the frying pan, the frying cake
For the brunt of heat they bore from the stove
Like a woman and his son’s wife do.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Musical Instrument

What was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river:
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.

High on the shore sat the great god Pan
While turbidly flowed the river;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.

He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor dry empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.

'This is the way,' laughed the great god Pan
(Laughed while he sat by the river),
'The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed.'
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, --
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Solve Et Coagula

Fire, fire
I dissolve and solidify,
Destroy to recreate,
Disassemble to assemble something pure,
Our rubic sol-ve-et-co-ag-u-la
Kill to be born again, cycled a thousand times
Fire, planetary alchemy,
Fire, the time is here now
Fire, four corners to rise
Fire rise!
Fire, theres always loss within,
Fire, the cleansing its time
Fire, shooting arrows to the sky
Fire
I construct a new institution
Not out of bricks, iron, cement, concrete
Or steel
Our rubic sol-ve-et-co-ag-u-la
Distill to purify,
Weve done it a thousand times
Fire, planetary alchemy,
Fire, the time is here now
Fire, four corners to rise
Fire rise!
Fire, theres always loss within,
Fire, the cleansing its time
Fire, shooting arrows to the sky
Fire
Burn, bleed all the lives of life, ascend to
The sky
Burn, all the martyrs
Fire, planetary alchemy,
Fire, the time is here now
Fire, four corners to rise
Fire rise!
Fire, theres always loss within,
Fire, the cleansing its time
Fire, shooting arrows to the sky
Fire

song performed by Mudvayne
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Love Fire

Fire fire
Fire fire
Fire fire fire fire
Cant put it out with water
Keeps on burning
Keeps on burning
Keeps on burning burning burning
In my soul
Your love is like a burning fire
It keeps on burning burning burning
In my soul
This love of mine its my one desire
Its gonna set my soul on fire
Itll never grow cold
Fire fire fire
Fire fire fire
Keeps on burning burning burning
In my soul
Your love is so kind to i
So good good
Itll never grow cold
This love of mine its my one desire
Its gonna set my soul on fire
Itll never grow cold
Fire fire
Fire fire
Fire fire fire fire
Cant put it out with water
Keeps on burning
Keeps on burning
Keeps on burning burning burning
In my soul

song performed by Simply Red
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Part 7 of Trout Fishing in America

THE PUDDING MASTER OF

STANLEY BASIN

Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the

lake promised us eternity, but the lake itself was filled with

thousands of silly minnows, swimming close to the shore

and busy putting in hours of Mack Sennett time.

The minnows were an Idaho tourist attraction. They

should have been made into a National Monument. Swimming

close to shore, like children they believed in their own im-

mortality .

A third-year student in engineering at the University of

Montana attempted to catch some of the minnows but he went

about it all wrong. So did the children who came on the

Fourth of July weekend.

The children waded out into the lake and tried to catch the

minnows with their hands. They also used milk cartons and

plastic bags. They presented the lake with hours of human

effort. Their total catch was one minnow. It jumped out of a

can full of water on their table and died under the table, gasp-

ing for watery breath while their mother fried eggs on the

Coleman stove.

The mother apologized. She was supposed to be watching

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Fire Below

(bonnie tyler/ paul hopkins/ peter oxendale)
Producer for bonnie: peter oxendale
Recorded in 1988 as a b-side for the single the best. lyrics taken from careful listening.
What I need
Is what you got
And a man like you must surely have a lot
Its what I need
So now you know
It takes a whole lot of loving
To put out the fire below
What you see
Is what you get
And if thats not enough
You know you aint seen nothing yet
So hold on tight
And dont let go
It takes a whole lot of loving
To put out the fire below
The fire below
The fire below
It takes a whole lot of loving
To put out the fire below
The fire below
The fire below
It takes a whole lot of loving
To put out the fire below
When I play
Its not a game
Ive got nothing to lose
But you sure got a lot to gain
Come on, come on, come on
Im ready to go
It takes a whole lot of loving
To put out the fire below
Ooh, the fire below
The fire below
It takes a whole of loving
To put out the fire below
The fire below
The fire below
It takes a whole lot of loving
To put out the fire below, oh yeah, oh yeah
Oh yeah
Now if you take me up
I wont bring you down
Now, you know I aint fooling
And I wont take no messing around
Come on, come on, come on
Im ready to go
It takes a whole lot of loving

[...] Read more

song performed by Bonnie Tyler
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

You Started This Fire

I lay with you and it's,
Under-cover.
With a ring-aling that dings.
And penetrates to get to things.

Aaahhh, aaahhh, aaahhh.

I lay with you and it's,
Under-cover.
With a ring-aling that dings.
And penetrates to get to things.
And penetrates to get to things.
Repeat.
And penetrates to get to things.
Repeat.
And penetrates to get to things.

Aaahhh, aaahhh, aaahhh.

Now who started this fire?
With a-ring and a-ding-ding-ding.
And a,
Big dingalingaling.
In this,
Sticky heat!
And, breathing deep.

Now who is accused for this fire?
That makes my breathing deep.
And...
Makes me clinch both fist and teeth.

Now who is accused for this fire?
That makes my breathing deep.
And...
Makes me clinch both fist and teeth.

You lay bare with naked clues!
You must of have started this fire.
You looking as if you know what to do too.
You must of have started this fire,
To build up my desire.

And why do I suspect that,
You have done this thing and...
That you want to bring me,
To a place....
To hear me scream

You lay bare with naked clues!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fire Burns! Fire Burns!

If you like you can enquire
There are rings of fire
There are hearts on fire
There are desert, grass and bush fires
Burning with a red hot rage on a different stage
They burn and mature that one can only admire

O! Fire O! Fire
My heart is on fire
Inside my soul a little flame has transpired
Have my words mis-fired while I speak of fire?
Fire burns like a scorching red-hot sun
And when fire burns its impact is sometimes no fun

Fire burns! Fire burns!
People die, people cry, people sigh
Fire run, run and run
Let's take turns to run before we turn into a bun
When you play with fire your hands will burn
When you lay with fire, heads will surely turn
Fire burns! Fire burns!

A hand pulls a gun and fires
A man goes to work and gets fired
And while I tire, I ask myself am I a liar?
For I speak of the uncontrollable forest fires
That cannot be announced by any town crier
A little spark
A brittle panic attack
A burning flame
A red-hot blaze
In seconds fire can take out an entire space

Fire burns! Fire burns!
And while the fire transpires
I can see the fire in your eyes
A hot passionate desire that flies and flies
And the fire burns and burns
Run, run and run for heads will turn
And the heat will rise like the scorching sun

Fire burns! Fire burns!
I ask silently for a ceasefire
For fire only ignites to inspire more misery
And out of that misery are born some high fliers
Run, run and run for heads will turn
And whatever burns can never be undone

poem by Sylvia Chidi
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Jindgi Ne Lehro

jindgi ni lehro ma bhinajavu 6 mare Pan..
jindgi ni kef ma rachavu tu mare pan...

pan swarth ane samay na aa hisabo na sarvala ma j gunchavayo 6u Aaje..
jya khovayo hato tya sodhu 6u mujane..
pan Aa bhrstachar na dambhi kef ma ranagi gayo 6u...

bus svaas pan har pal meet mandi ne bethi 6 mot ni..
bus
jindgi na Aakhari palo ne to moaj ma rami dau...
bus jara Aam to karto jaav mara pran to beeja na name karto jaav...

jindgi ni lehro ma bhinajavu 6 mare Pan..
jindgi ni kef ma rachavu tu mare pan...
jindagi...

poem by Sandeep Jahaal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!