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Best Baptism By Fire Poems | Poetry

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The Best Baptism By Fire Poems

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Baptism by fire

He squealed,
Like a pig in heat
Praising God for he believed

He sat, 2 years old 
And he looked at the lord
Drew an angels breath
Swatted a toy
A bird that could not fly
Meant for another mans eye

Gramp's died 
took a colorado bound plane
in the seat pocket in front
was a small toy ostrich
I shoved it deep into my pocket
I could not say why

When I got home
a sickness ensued
with pink cottage cheese chunks
Filled up the sink
and i withered in pain

He died
It came
on the window pane

it was white like a ghost
did not appear on french toast
it was like a laser etching
awoke to the bird symbol awakening

and i had that toy
same exact size
and this symbol on the window
with every feather perfectly detailed
could be traced from the toy to the window
difference was that the tail was composed many fine, white, smooth flowing, intermingling lines
translucent, and seen best by brightest daylight

I thought it was condensation
that it would fade away
but it remained

Copyright © Sir William | Year Posted 2016

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Baptism By Fire

Ashless shall thee For a moment Or forever be Fair Lady, forsake what has passed Partake of purification Walk with me upon love's life path Into baptism by fire Manifestation in its touch Beyond these tabernacles Desire or lust To the heart of spirits conversing Where no spoken word is needing But yet if It shall be a gift floating Like breaths of the songbird singing Or swallowed butterflies wild And trails dancing Lit by starlight smiles And Spring will nevermore Be, just one day Or a mere season But in sense Shall be all in one feeling To bring the bells The bells of wedding When wills are aligned It is time For exhales to be echoed from the dark

Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2012

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we cannot pinpoint the day nor time when God created all that we see
but we know when fire was introduced as a part of mankind's destiny
fire gave birth to many things it's a blessing and a burden as well
it has many good properties but it also burns in hell
that which has the most potential for good has the most potential for evil too
but as long as we don't abuse fire it's Godly purpose will stay true

now Pentacost was the day when all men were on one accord
a Feast of the Harvest to celebrate the goodness of the Lord
on that day a mighty wind rushed over everyone
and all were set on fire by the Holy Spirit of the Heavenly Son
the Holy Spirit is the comforter and the essence of God's kind
the Holy Spirit is the presence of God that soothes our troubled minds

set on fire a burning bush was what Moses did see
in the presence of God awaiting direction for Israels' destiny
set on fire those three young Jewish men when into an inferno they were thrown
for refusing to bow down to any other only to the God that they had known
set on fire to remove the dross and impurities in life
set on fire by the Holy Spirit of Our Lord Jesus the Christ

baptism by fire to be purified by the spirit of the  Lord
like on the day of Pentacost when all were on one accord
to be cleansed of all anger, all hurt, all bitterness and all of the pain
now filled with the Holy Spirit energized and enlightened in Jesus' name
an internal combustion has occured for from within you've been set on fire
a new passion has erupted for by the Spirit you've been inspired

now powered by the Holy Spirit infused with the octane that is Jesus Christ
set on fire with the need to live a more Godly life
Pentacost the day when all felt the presence of the Holy Lord
set on fire speaking in tongue yet all were on one accord

Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2012

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Mind Games

There were no gold medals to pin
and no starters gun to begin
but for sure we were out to win
          the Baptism by Fire Games.
Thus on the PCG we played
and so it was the toss was made
but this dumb Kiwi looked afraid
         and down he went in flames!

But like the Phoenix he got up
and from his beer had one more sup
wishing like hell he had a cup
                   or box to protect him.
But the very next ball he'd face
was a yorker at his shoelace
honing in at frightening pace
       and things were looking grim!

There he was on the green top mat
jumping up and down like a cat
on a hot tin roof with his bat
                     like a hack tailender.
So lest he retired hurt or worse
and need a doctor or a nurse
or be carried off in a hearse
                I asked "you surrender?"

As the "Ashes" in us did burn
soon at the crease it was my turn
and for him a lesson to learn
                    like in the Rangi nets.
You don't bowl to Skeet in the slot
or give him width to play a shot
when he shouts "gimme all ya got!"
               and plunders all he gets!

As longer the carnage went on
its conclusion was thus foregone
when victory was sweetly won
        but for the depths he'd stoop.
It's no place for the faint hearted
but I ended what he started
when his next ball I well carted
                  over the chicken coop!

Yes, we played many a rematch
under the house on his home patch
but a win he'd so seldom snatch
                 from the jaws of defeat.
I recall it sure was fun though
when a new grip he'd wildly throw
and smashed the veranda window
                    as Ted sat in his seat!

Then his bat under his arm tucks
when he scored two first ball king ducks
and yelled all innocent "that sucks!
                    Skeet, I wasn't ready".
But the video didn't lie
so he erased it and that's why
to this very day he'll deny
                but I'm no Blind Freddy!

At every play and miss I'd smile
or when he'd in his tourettes style
nick one more into the woodpile
                and then refuse to walk.
But I'd wait for the umpire's call
and check behind the keeper's wall
then re-tape up the tennis ball
               and let him talk the talk!

For whether clean bowled or an edge
he'd lose it and begin to sledge
or unfair dismissal allege
              and grand excuses make.
But I with a twinkle and spark
in my eye walked back to my mark
musing to myself "what the fark!"
         and took a long drinks break!

So were the days of idle youth
but you don't have to be a sleuth
to discern bull from the truth
              the pointed finger blames.
And so it was back in the day
until stumps or bad light stopped play
back in that garage in Browns Bay
      we played out our Mind Games!

                 May 2014

Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014

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I learned how to die a long time ago

From the night I was born on a still midnight hour
I had to face many a trial
to cope with life's challenges.
Some called it baptism by fire,
others said it was only natural to keep a tough exterior.
So I learned,
I learned how to be patient,
endure the hard times
address my anger, fight my hatred,
to shed silent tears of virtue.
I learned about laughter,
of its healing power, soothing to the soul.
I learned to be silly,
to laugh at my troubles.
Knowing eventually, they always meet their expiration date.
I learned troubles give depth to life.
Time converts them from tragedy to comedy.
I learned life is tough, leaves your broken
heavy on the shoulders, leaves you drowning.
But, I've learned that as the water get deep, life throws you a line
Those silent tears form crystals from your eyes.
It makes you powerful.
All this I learned a long time ago.
To treasure the time,
until that cold bitter truth comes upon.
Poor mortal! Never knowing the day or hour
the shadow of death comes with his cold disposition.
So I've learned to embrace death.
I've learned to smile the biggest smiles.
I've learned to shed to most honest tears.
I learned how to do this,
all of it.
I learned it all,
a long time ago.

Copyright © Renaldo Singh | Year Posted 2015

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beat, bellow and decay,
      is there nothing more,
cold liquid crimson,
      colorful tainting,
      fallen from within,
down dark corduroy,
      to the bridge's end,
      descending stairway,
      plunge into the abyss,
baptism by fire,
cauterized spirit,
fresh wounds pass away,
      clear the dross,
      to set the stage,
      away with held breathe,
how it kills us,
to learn, to listen,
      freedom within dependence,
the scent of melon,
the night fragrant,
      senses awakened,
      memories lead on,
through velvet poetry,
      softly sleep soothes,
      lines drawn with the shades,
      where sand buries lies,
these translucent chameleons,
      change like water,
      the cages weaken,
relinquish their quarry

Copyright © Luke Hobbs | Year Posted 2018