Quotes about aflame, page 6
Cry Petey, I See Bards Rounding the Bend
Cry we all toward places unnamed
Rise above the crested hills
Yell we will - shattering door frames
Plundering thoughts of plovered wills
Tear at the wallpaper - reveal the grain
Ink the slate - etched by wound-dipped quills
Crouch, prowl - ready to pounce on game
Brandishing swords, blaring trumpets shrill
Arching backs, phosphorescent wicks aflame
Ridding netted fish of scales and smelly gills
Driving forward, driven onward - scourging rain
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Your eyes burn right through my soul
Your eyes burn right through my soul,
leave marks there
that I cannot extinguish.
At times your eyes are aflame with anger,
like thunder
that is only looking for a place to happen.
Sometimes your eyes flow soothing
like the ocean
and embraces me to spend time with you.
Sometimes there are depths in your eyes
that I cannot fathom, shadows beyond which
unknown emotions, people and places are hiding
and still I want to spend time with you when I can.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I'd Wish You'd Gone With Me
I'd wish'd you'd gone with me
When I travelled a road by the sea
with farset eyes and firmset heart aflame
I knew you couldn't be to blame
But be it all the same
I'd wish'd you'd gone with me
When I travelled that road by the sea.
I'd wish'd you'd heard the ocean's song
For then you'd know where you belong
For the sea it sang to me
with waves that rang so free
and in that surf I could see
I'd wish'd you'd gone with me
when I travelled that road by the sea
poem by T.A. Rosenbaum
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Aflame
The world aflame, we astound it,
On the way this language becomes;
Lips of cold energy are revolting,
Revolving and empty with sin.
You lie by me and kill my belongings,
On this side of the river there runs a spirit
Or ghoul of astounding and abhorrent strength.
The lips are struck by its glare
And my funeral has abolished me.
I run the world now that the fire is out,
Languages and folly are over.
Place him in the middle of the river,
Rivers are running deep today and every day.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hope In Higher Heaven
Where is
that young
voice
of ever
lasting dreams?
His words
long left
behind
we may still
read
upon paper
or screen.
When will
weary spirit
wake
with vibrant
beam
piercing multiple
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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June Perfection
June perfection
with you on cliff tops
and the sea-
feeding manic parents
the last traunch of the day.
Diving
Swooping
Soaring
CryingPurbeck rocks
and crashing seas-
a perfect evening
for you and me.
And woodland birds
the gnat and worm
pursue in greeny woods,
so many melodies
in birdland heaven
with you ‘a-twich’
laid out on rocks
like a french resistance lookout
[...] Read more
poem by Colin Phillimore
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O Candle- Rose!
O Candle-Rose of rosy hue!
- A gift from sweet a heart;
On Christmas Day to me anew,
Aflame, how do I start?
For, if when lit, your love will glow
And burn my very heart;
And melt the wax forever, Oh!
The Rose could then depart.
O Candle-Rose of beauty great
- A piece of lovely art;
Tho’ burn you must, some day by fate:
How can I do that part?
O Candle- Rose of priceless rate,
Oh, be my living art;
Just like you were to me till date,
Remain my dear sweetheart.
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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The beginning of mountains
this is how silences wedded me
in the drums aflame I was beating
deaf for the voice which
coming from the wind
leafs out the ends of autumns
pulls the strings of the sky
where it is enough to live
on an accord of a lonely breath
in the corner of the words squatted
a voice was praying
a leaf cut off from the autumn gown
sewed the edges of all the seasons
hit the universe forehead
against the cold soil of waiting
its echo my bridegroom
hand in hand we winged are
a painfully delivered beginning of mountains
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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April 9, 1999 (for Ethelbert)
In Brooklyn when the flowering
forsythia escaped the concrete patterns
of tight winter days
I didn’t think about long
distances
or F-117s in contrast
to a lover or an army
on the ground
up close
and personal as washing out a shirt
by hand
the soapsuds and the fingers and the cloth
an ordinary ritual
to interdict the devils of 2,000 lb. bombs
dropped from more than 25,000 feet above
the children
scrambling from the schoolyard
suddenly aflame
until you called from Washington
[...] Read more
poem by June Jordan
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The Heart of a Woman
The heart of a woman is susceptible
to bouts of highs and lows.
It's comparable to the tides of the sea
and how the winds do blow.
When she's content and filled with joy
her heart, like a kite just soars.
When she's forlorn and feels forsaken
that same heart scrapes the floors.
Show her love with deep emotion
and her heart does wildly beat.
Show her indifference and loveless days
and her heart is incomplete.
Ninety percent of a woman is heart,
the other ten, the frame.
It takes the finesse of a lover
to keep her heart aflame.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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