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Pyre Pedestals

Written: July 30, for contest Sponsored by: Rob Carmack ************** I sketch your pedigree in marrow script, each speech slice out of salt spines— No ledger can fetter the flow of flame, or control the smell of storm-born mind. Wombs are pedestals blazed by pyre, where armor converts into full ember.

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Victor Buhagiar

Date: 7/31/2025 2:23:00 AM

A poem one cannot help but admire. A quatrain so well composed.

Bj Legros Kelley

Date: 7/31/2025 2:08:00 AM

Wow, so beautifully poetic Sotto.

Bill Baker

Date: 7/30/2025 10:04:00 PM

Great vocabulary in this one, Sotto. " where armor converts into full ember". It seems to indicate a strength and will within that will not be broken by distraction or other forces from without. You should need no luck with this entry into the contest. A winner in my mind. Have a pleasant weekend, my dear friend. Bill

Kim Rodrigues

Date: 7/30/2025 5:09:00 PM

Love those middle lines!

Sara Etgen-Baker

Date: 7/30/2025 4:57:00 PM

interesting title...liked it, though. These are my favorite lines: No ledger can fetter the flow of flame, or control the smell of storm-born mind. I appreciate the depth of your poem with its statements about truth. Best wishes with the contest, dear Sotto!

Paige Hind

Date: 7/30/2025 1:17:00 PM

Deep, Sotto. I felt a lot of power.

Jay Narain

Date: 7/30/2025 11:27:00 AM

Your poem envisions identity, creativity, and heritage not as neatly logged and recorded, but as living fire—unfettered, ancestral, primal. It asserts that some truths are too visceral to ledger, too volatile to tame.