Quotes about searing
Oh My Heart Oh How It Burns
My heart it sings oh how it sings
it sings alone for me,
my heart within, deep within, oh how it sings;
it sings alone for me
an inspiring, electrifying, arousal melody.
Oh my heart oh how it burns
oh how it burns for me,
beneath my breast, deep beneath, oh how it burns;
within fervent depths it burns for me
a white hot heat; a searing heat; maiming bodily.
There is joy within and love within
awakened wonder seen by me,
there is wonder there, and love found there, within;
such love within it startles me
thrilling wondrous; joy there known; tempestuously.
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ringing Ears
Burning, burning,
Wire down my spine.
Searing, searing,
Drive out the pain inside.
Flowing, flowing,
Coursing through my veins.
Lifting, lifting,
Brings me back again.
Reanimated,
Reborn,
Drawing out my life,
The music drives me on.
The music drives me on.
Faltering, fading, failing,
Wading through flesh tinted fog,
Colour bleeds from my surroundings,
Organ grinds but monkey stops.
Sounds die on my lips,
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poem by Stuart Doggett
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Under The Mysterious Cover
Wa la poetry
Under the mysterious cover
This bank of the river
Breaks to build that
Making and breaking
A song of despair in the air
By that distant river
Leaves the dream in the middle
In the heart forms a cloud dark
Under water fishes cut jokes
Searing sun often comes in life
To give a much sought relief
After the storm
Under the cover mysterious
One grey deep dark mist
Carries a sob, unheard fainted cry
Sung with a muffled sigh
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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Lionized
The night dawned beneath
the searing diadems
sprawled on the floors
without a king or a queen
like a roarless lion
prancing on a tawny field
without any manifestation -
a gilded mass of a shadow
capitulated from its vigor
The light spangling faintly
upon the sweating glass
the pendulum crashed
with the moon on her boudoir
clad by gargoyle clouds
we possess the darkness
cloyed by our eyes
We took ferocity for granted
whuthering from the ascent
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poem by Norman Santos
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By The Light
Destiny, feel disgrace.
I'm the one that's fallen.
I'm the one in pain.
I'm the one that's going.
Forces decay in pain, by the light.
The suffer is cold.
There's colors
Searing his face.
Drifting through the sorrow.
The visions yet display.
It strips the soul completely empty.
Sirens rage in vain.
Drifting through the sadness.
Violence fills the sky.
Torturing, the voice rang out.
My servants they are blind, by the light.
Suffer is cold.
There's colors
Searing his face.
By the light.
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song performed by Obituary
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 01 - Summer
"Oh, dear, this utterly sweltering season of the highly rampant sun is drawing nigh, and it will always be good enough to go on taking daytime baths, as the lakes and rivers will still be with plenteous waters, and at the end of the day, nightfall will be pleasant with fascinating moon, and in such nights Love-god can somehow be almost mollified...[who tortured us in the previous vernal season... but now without His sweltering us, we can happily enjoy the nights devouring cool soft drinks and dancing and merrymaking in outfields...]
"Oh, beloved one, somewhere the moon shoved the blackish columns of night aside, somewhere else the palace-chambers with water [showering, sprinkling and splashing] machines are highly exciting, and else where the matrices of gems, [like coolant pearls and moon-stone, etc.,] are there, and even the pure sandalwood is liquefied [besides other coolant scents,] thus this season gets an adoration from all the people...
"The beloved ones will enjoy the summer's clear late nights while they are atop the rooftops of buildings that are delightful and fragranced well, while they savour the passion intensifiers like strong drinks and while the ladylove's face suspires the bouquets of those drinks together with melodious instrumental and vocal music...
"The women are ameliorating the heat of their lovers with their chicly silken coolant fineries gliding onto their rotund fundaments, for they are knotted loosely, and on those silks glissading are their golden cinctures with their dangling tassels that are unfastened on and off, and with their buxom bosoms that are bedaubed with sandal-paste and semi-covered with pearly strings and golden lavalieres, and with their locks of hair that are sliding onto their faces, which locks are fragrant with bath-time emulsions, which are just applied before their oil bath...
"Brightly coloured with the reddish foot-paint that is akin to the colour of lac's reddish resin, adorned with anklets that are festooned with jingling bells, whose tintinnabulations on their stepping after stepping mimic the clucks of swans, with such feet those women with bumpy behinds are rendering the hearts of people impassioned, in these days of pre-summer...
"These days the bosoms of womenfolk are bedaubed with scents and sandal-paste, and they are given out to snowily and whitely pearly pendants that are sported on those bosoms, and even their hiplines are with the dangling golden griddle-strings, with such a lovely ostentation whose heart is it, that does not fill with raptures...
"The seams of limbs of ladies of age are conquered by the often emerging sweat, thus those peaky bosomed lustful ladies are presently banding their bosoms with softish fineries, casting aside their roughish apparels ...
"The rustles of air comprising the aroma of watered sandal-paste, blown off by the fans with peacocks' plumage, and the rustle of strings of pearls when the roundish bosoms of loves are hugged, together with the subtle melody of string instruments, and subtly sung intonations of singers, now appear to awaken Love-god, Manmatha, who is as though asleep after his manoeuvres in the last spring season...
"On leisurely seeing the faces of the maids that are comfortably sleeping well on the tops of whitish edifices, the moon of these nights is highly ecstasized, for he is unpossessed with any such flawless face, as his own face is flawed with rabbit-like, deer-like foibles, and when the night dwindles, he doubtlessly goes into state of pallidity, as though ashamed to show his face to the flawless sun...
"The intolerable westerly wind of the summer is up-heaving the clouds of dust, even the earth is ablaze, set by the blazing sun, and the itinerants whose hearts are already put to blaze by the blazing called the detachment from their ladyloves, and now it has become impossible for them even to look at the blazing earth, to tread further...
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poem by Kalidasa
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dark clouds funneling
frog leaps to the new street pond
mimosa bows low
lightning crystallizes
all movement in searing light
tanka by Lillian Susan Thomas
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Fury
Does the
Searing
Anger
Within you
Burn you
Inside out?
Good.
I wanted you
To know
The fury
Of a
Wounded
Woman.
Don’t
Mess
With her
Anymore.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Most Sincerely Yours
Sincerity
Becomes music
Like a song found and repeated
Quick silver
Hot
Searing
Like liquid truth
Dorothy Alves Holmes
A Poet Who Loves To Sing
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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Ash Wednesday
Earth tilts
and winter passes.
Now is the time
for ashes.
Searing songs
cremate the pain.
Waving palms
incinerate.
From dust unto dust
we fall and rise,
crying to God,
we reach high
to paths
of brighter trust.
poem by Steven Federle
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