Fire Lines

I cannot get the imagery of fire out of my mind these days. The more I think about it, the more it consumes me, envelopes me, and teases me. Always in the back of my mind it is there - snapping and popping, glowing, feeding on the logs of my thoughts. It is rushing through the wood, crazing the surface, eating away at the core, and then majestically collapsing into a heap of ash. Maybe I can extinguish the flame with these writings.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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