Fire Sestina
Roaring through her veins is this flame
Traits emerge; emanating, radiating, from this essence
Raining down, settling cloud, filigree of ash
Alive, alive, alive, inside the blaze dances
Her anger so white-hot it consumes
Ignited by ire, birthing life flashing embers
Always there, the fossilized fuel feeding embers
Passions pour, flare causing busts of flame
Swirling vortex, twisting twirls, they do consume
Magnificent whirls; orange, yellow, white; burning essence
Pile up powerful emotions for the frenetic dance
But soon all thoughts turn to ash
Descend again darkness, coals banked by ash
Molten regrets, surface invisible, nurture emergent embers
Transgressions brought by the mind slowly dance
Creeping forward to destroy, brilliantly outlined flames
Burning away the trail of worthy essence
Anguish so intense the joy it consumes
Inferiority, scorn, and dismissal feed the consumption
Still around, gritty remains abound, harm-scratching ash
Deep are the scars, ingredient of the essence
Yet still protected, out peek delightful embers
Ignited, bright, vibrant, luxuriant, shinning, spinning flame
Desecration does not dampen the demanding dancer
Wild and gay runaway forest fires dance
Ebullient, buoyant, with abandon leaps she consumes
Warning: You contain cannot this combustion flame
Exhilaration and excitement blow away the ash
Molten intensity burns from within eye-embers
Incandescent illumine, generator of her essence
Secret fire, core of her sensualist essence
Sight, sound, taste, touch; restore jubilant dance
Honesty, justice, and beauty are truth embers
Passion, experience, and desire for knowledge consume
Seek control, harness directly the fertile ash
Transforming fuel out of the incandescent flame
Pulsing, pounding, polarizing, pulverizing, persistent, anger embers
Personality irrevocably pinned permanently to this essence
Who recognizes the oh-so-vital flame?
Glorious, powerful, awesome you behold the dance
Smoldering seductive heat forcing the clarifying consummation
Phoenix-rising metamorphosis recurrently rendered from ash
Discarded to the Trash Heap
I like it when careless, thoughtless people, pile the trash barrel too high with the discards of their life.
They don't pay attention - and when they light it on fire?
You escape ...
The whooosh of the flames below you sets you free to be a burning ember in the atmosphere.
At that moment you are free and floating ... rising aloft,
Then at the apex of your ascent you start a lazy, swirling, distracting-ember edged descent.
Gliding and twirling ... misdirecting them so, with your glow,
they don't realize you've landed and ignited their soul into purgatory.
The Fire Within
At times I burn so hot ... it is like being in a forest fire. I don't know if you've ever seen one - but they are awe inspiring and frightful all at the same time. As the flames grow and feed on the trees these huge vortexes and updrafts are created. Magnificent fire swirls, jumps, and leaps from thing to thing - quickly consuming and sampling and burning everything in it's path. I swear - that is me! Some days my mood is so buoyant and ignited. I feel bright and vibrant and shinning and spinning - glorious and powerful and awesome to behold. Then there are other days - days when I feel like a foothill wildfire at night. With these fires you can see the ring of flame brilliantly outlined as it creeps forward consuming the grass and small bushes in-front of it. It is one of the most beautiful sights. Seductive - because it's beauty is so great - and in the darkness all around you cannot see the blackened ruins in its wake. You cannot look past the jewel like gleaming advance of the flame. This too is me. Then – then - there are the dark days. Those are the days when the fire wanes – and the coals are buried under all the ash. I sit there and smolder with all this heat - just waiting for the right touch to come along and ignite me – so that I can feel and feed again and be the forest fire. I hate the black days. They are so bleak and empty.
Fire Vein
Roaring through her veins is this flame
At the height of joy, its warmth she employs
Descend again the ashes banked by darkness
Fires that burn within do not dim
Coals of passion smolder still
Essence from all other traits these embers generate
Anger so white-hot does consume her
Feelings piled on the trash heap high
Ignited by scorn, embers flash to life
Enveloping the papyrus remains
Updraft wind, swirling vortex, twisting and whirling in the nighttime sky
Traits generated from the essence
Filigree of ash raining down, settles like a cloud
Gritty remains abound, scratching the surface of those around
Hell’s heat inside does not abate those scorched by her tongue
Molten regret invisible on the surface burns
Yet still the passion cannot be dampened
All traits, this is the essence
Music is a fuel to feed ebullition
Cuisine is a seed of need
Happiness so intense, incandescence radiates from her eyes
Alive, alive, alive, the flame dances
The power of the heat singes all nearby
Ember generator of essential traits
2 comments:
Wow ----- what poweful feelings; what power lies beneath; waiting for that someone with the power to consume.
no matches for you! No tinder, No Flint no steel, No two sticks string or bow. Conflagrations stir in your mind Hot hot hot!
Ard
Post a Comment