Best Burn Up Poems
I like to exercise my mind, but how I hate to work.
Whatever needs exertion is the action that I shirk.
Labor with the brain is fine. I do it all the time.
How I love to sit and read or think of words that rhyme.
But send me to the bathroom with a brush so that I'll scrub,
and I'll barely rub the ring off. Then I'll lie there in the tub.
Peek inside; you'll find me, a novel in one hand,
resting as I'm soaking in my own little Bubble Land.
Clean the oven? What a joke. The most that I can stand
is loading up the wash machine (a task that's merely bland).
Maybe run the vacuum once a week across the floor,
and quickly dab where dust is bad; most stuff I ignore.
As my jobs all pile up, housework's even more a chore.
Why must work that's physical be such a dreadful bore?
My well-ingrained aversion to utilizing muscle
does have one exception: at the gym I like to hustle.
To kick box is so fun although it makes me sweaty.
Step and dance are choreographed. For those I'm always ready.
But I wish that just as quickly as from running on a tread
I could burn up calories doing workouts in my head!
In this life I have seen beauty
With its majesty and cruelty.
I believe in reincarnation doctrine
Would like to be butterfly divine.
A pure beauty of rainbow colors
Not as civilized as men who prefers
To have half of the happiness
And the longevity much in excess.
Would count moments not years
Flirting freely around without fears
Fire is beautiful its beauty kills
Care not if at all its beauty thrills.
Better to burn up for the beauty
Than long bored life without a cutie.
=================================
Dr. Ram Mehta
Second Place win in:
Contest: If I was an Animal, What Would I be sponsored by Kristen bruni
I would have a hundred spears go right through me
I would have a guillotine cut me up thousand times into thousand pieces
I would have every bit of me burn up in ashes
I still don't think I would feel anything
I don't think I would feel any pain.
I didn't feel any pain.
I don't see any blood
Lucifer's hell looks tame.
Come on Luci
Is this the worst you can do?
Thought you went straight for blood
Thought you were hungry
Thought you couldn't resist me
Standing with all the blood and skin.
Well here is an open invitation
Don't go easy on me.
Black hands and blacker hearts,
Isn't that always how the trouble starts,
When the few above,
Govern the many below,
And olive branch toting doves,
Flee in droves,
Silence the mind,
The heart is talking,
Logic's lagging behind,
Because the fanatics are gawking,
At the fire on his tongue,
That dances as he speaks,
Flint striking the lungs,
Against the matches in his teeth,
"Die a lonely death",
All who pray,
Your faith reeks of Macbeth,
So easy to betray,
Caution with your fever,
You're likely to burn up,
With your flammable cadaver,
And the pitch lining your gut,
My disjointed sense of anger,
At all who oppose,
The fragile sense of order,
That no one seems to know.
For a girl named Debbie; who won me over with her words-
Damn girl you know your way with words,
the way they explode with power and feeling
just gets me entangled in the flow of your poetry.
You're good girl, your a woman who knows her stuff,
I like that in a woman,
whose not afraid to show her heart,
to burn up a piece of paper with hot glare of emotions
of love and hate and everyday life.
You can write about anything and everything,
and have it sound good to the reader's heart,
Damn girl you know you won my heart,
your way with words is like a hot knife slicing though cold butter,
and my nerves rattle and my heart skips a beat
when you start writing about love.
Damn this girl is good,
she knows her stuff,
with a portrait of Edgar Allan Poe hanging over her wall,
as she sits with lights dimmed, she writes of the darkest days,
she makes 'em and she breaks 'em with her words.
And she writes whatever comes to her mind,
a day taking her meds,
or a day with or without love,
or just another day living her life;
she speaks out to whatever comes to her mind,
and that is what I admire in a lovely poetess like her.
This poem is for a girl named Debbie,
a girl whose words won me over.
-a dedication poem to one of my fellow poets; Debbie Mills-Kelly
.2.4.2014.
She wanted me to dance, to dance away
It was the spring, within the month of May
Still to this day I can see her movements
We went around in circles, made statements
Sun was filtered down from heaven above
Warming the ground and flowers with a shove
Letting things bloom is the dance we both shared
Gorgeous moment, as one showing we cared
Then we slipped into the summer’s proud dance
Heat masterfully expresses the prance
Around I spin you, and you delve in me
I feel a piece of you in summer breeze
Here again flowers run abundantly
They enjoy the storms as those flow freely
We danced throughout the summer with some sweat
Proudly showing we danced, best as of yet
And now the dance blows quickly into dusk
Colors shows beauty like our dance-like musk
Leaves shower down onto our very steps
We dance into the warmth of the doorsteps
Glowing around from the cool sunsets here
Things slow down and don’t burn up like with fear
She showed me her dancing moves with romance
Awesome feelings come from our swinging dance
I spin her around in the winter’s grace
I clasp her tight as the snow falls in place
Whiteness covers the ground and life ceases
Leaving beauty from death and its pieces
The air looks stale and stagnant with a bite
Showing blossoms of winter blooms alright
We danced with a deep feeling in this time
Frozen was our breath, but warm our sublime
She steps it off, and returns back to spring
Feeling the warmth back onto her gold ring
After a year of seasons we return
To the start of real beauty to discern
Russell Sivey
Contest: A Season's Dance
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
9/27/2013
This evening hurts
I've grown rusty
quick wits groan
as curtains hide footlight
that makes its way
to stage
That voice - is it mine? -
grumpy, in need of... what....
and the audience standing around
stares confused...
fake popcorn smiles
in hot buttered nervousness
Wish they would give me one
to ease into fog
make them all go away
Wish I could play my violin
so no one would hear my
smoky rasp in the microphone
I burn up concessions
create wistful sunsets
at the very break of day
Fix me a strong one
for tonight and
one stronger for the morning
A Billion Soul Mates
By Rick Rucker
I don’t think that there’s one “soul mate,”
No more than there is a “perfect” date.
In searching for a match,
I easily found a glorious catch!
To say I love her, makes me a liar,
She simply set my Heart afire!
When I saw her, I felt Doom,
There she was, across the room,
I knew my Heart would not long last,
It would burn up very fast.
I saw her first, then she smiled,
Suddenly, my Heart went wild!
Her face was like a Vermeer painting,
Now, I was afraid of fainting!
I knew that I would fall in Love,
And said a prayer to those Above.
I was struck so hard by her beauty,
I forgot to do my “duty.”
In my hand, I held a rose,
But I was frozen, head to toes!
In front of me, the Love I seek,
Why can’t I get my tongue to speak?
Finally, with an effort heroic,
I tried to appear quite stoic,
And not drool all over her,
That we ate is still a blur,
The first thing that I recall,
When escaping from my thrall,
We were standing near her car,
The best date I’d had, by far.
As I watched her car leave,
‘Twas then that I began to grieve.
I knew I’d made the date a mess,
What she thought, I could only guess.
Driving home, I thought it through,
And decided what I’d do,
I’d not call her, in that way,
I wouldn’t have to hear her say,
That she’d not see me more,
Which would drop me to the floor!
After an agonizing week,
I called her, and in a voice quite meek,
And asked on another date,
“Yes,” her answer, I can relate!
A dozen more have we had since then,
We’re planning on what happens when,
We’ve become more than each other’s friend,
And we will be together ‘til The End!
And so, I’m trying to let you see,
That if a common guy, like me
Can find his Love, with this few dates,
There must be a billion “soul mates”
For each one of us,
A dozen on the next bus!
If you’ve not found her, don’t despair,
She’s just around that corner, there!
A Golden Steed Gallops
A golden steed gallops in my dreams as of late
echoing sounds of my so darkly imagined fate
chastising my wicked deeds of an ill-spent youth
increasing the chasm between bold lies and truth.
Flowing trails of gleaming pain fly deep with that race
as precious , sweet memories burn up without a trace
flying away , names and faces of girls I so easily left
broken up like fine crystals falling from a high shelf.
An invisible rider brings racing steed to an abrupt halt
as it screams out, "yes you, it's all your damn fault"!
why did you not live a sweeter, kinder and gentler life
blame is on you for lost true love , loss of your first wife!
Golden steed stands at a graveyard filled with no headstones
lying about are several sun-bleached and broken white bones
dark wind races in whispering in a very raspy low moan
you are so dead , now you lay cold, dark and so, so alone!
06-13-2014
We are merging and surging, and rapidly purging.
A rich man is buying our company, and he is bringing us backers, and hackers,
Best of all a stash of great cold, hard, green cash.
We are throwing out desks, and we are throwing out chairs.
Some out the window, others down the back stairs.
The money is coming; it will be here by Tuesday.
In the form of a suit, and a man with a new play.
We are merging and surging and rapidly purging.
Millions you say? No, I think more. His name is Matthew McMooters.
Billions perhaps. We will have new computers.
See that old desk? Come help me push.
It will burn up so quick, with a wonderful swoosh.
Did I forget to tell you Old Pat has built a pyre on the twenty-fourth floor?
There are forty employees up there already,
With Tom, Harry, Ann and Freddy.
We are merging and surging and rapidly purging.
Follow me Nick. Follow me Nate.
Let’s go up in the elevator, bring your Mac Eight.
We’ll throw this picture in, this plant, this plate.
The rich guy will be here Tuesday.
With his money hard and smooth.
Come on folks, let’s decide our next move.
How bright they are, those shooting stars
that dart across the evening sky!
We gaze at them with wonderment,
aware their light will quickly die.
We grownups know the truth about
these beauties. They’re not stars at all,
but dust and bits of rock that shine,
then burn up as they quickly fall.
When kids say, “Look—a shooting star,”
let’s not be killjoys who declare
the scientific facts about
what’s zooming through the nighttime air!
Date Posted: August 13, 2019
Contest Title: Shooting Stars Received an NA
Date: September 25, 2019
Contest Title: N-A Rerun 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Once read that a kangaroo can't jump
Unless its tail is touching the ground
I've tried it and I couldn't jump either
I too was literally earthbound
Heaviest land mammal is the elephant
Weighing close to 8,000 pounds
Me mum-in-law comes in a close second
Those booms are her walking around
A quarter has 119 grooves on its edge
A dime has only 118 grooves
Bet you'll be able to sleep well tonight
This information tends to soothe
A whale's heart beats only 9 times a minute
Faster when they're having sex
Imagine the picture you guys are seeing
Afterward, smoking a cigarette
It's a little-known fact that baby robins
Eat 14 feet of worms a day
The heartburn these guys must be having
Need lotsa Pepto Bismol I'd say
If you decide to walk all the way to the sun
It would take you bout 2000 years
If someone started back in 18 A.D.
They're just about to burn up, I fear
In Turkey, back in the 16th century
Drinking coffee could get you hanged
Imagine if they killed you for that today
Populations would drop with a bang
Every 8 seconds, a new baby is born
Every 14 seconds there's a death
Suggest we all stop having sex every night
Coz there won't be any space left!
Imagine a black velvet curtain
Pinholed to allow specked light
Now imagine that same curtain
Endlessly stretching out of sight
And there you have the immense
Velvet blackness of outer space
In which I hang and float seeing
That speckled velvet any way I face
I suppose I am that lucky man
To know the exact second he will die
No single second longer possible
No matter how or what I try
For the oxygen of life is finite
In my cocooned fragile suit of death
I can rest here calm and unmoving
And so harvest every single breath
Or I can thresh and move and panic
Burn up my allowance fast
Never quite sure which breath
May be the next to last
I am speaking my thoughts slowly
There is so much I want to say
And I hope oh how I hope
I will be found some day
And maybe then just maybe
Some descendant may know
How much I loved life
And how I loved her so
I am that one lucky man
Of our ship crew of five
The only one still here
The only one still alive
Routine maintenance inspection
Left me suited spaceside and in luck
The only one to survive the hit
When that unknown object struck
My thoughts are now recorded
I am reconciled and at peace
I shall open this seam soon to cold cold space
And so choose my own moment of release
Cruel fate is perhaps a considerate friend
Allowing me the when to make my own end
Imagine a black velvet curtain
Pinholed to allow specked light
Now imagine that same curtain
Endlessly stretching out of sight
She wanted a great big brand new house, among brand new other things,
and just to marry and be my spouse, she wanted great big diamond rings,
So I knew what she was about, when she wanted so much bling,
it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out, money was her thing.....
But you can't squeeze blood from a turnip, my ol' daddy use to say,
don't build bridges that burn up son, you'll need them again someday,
You're never too old to keep learnin', work hard to pay your way,
Keep a job and keep on earnin' son, ya know, Rome wasn't built in a day...
Well, she just wasn't the one for me, so she went on down the road,
and as far as I could see, she could carry her own dang load,
Yes, I'm so glad she's free, and she left my humble abode,
because she inspired this song to be, another one seeking gold,
But you can't squeeze blood from a turnip, my ol' daddy use to say,
don't build bridges that burn up son, you'll need them again someday,
You're never too old to keep learnin', work hard to pay your way,
Keep a job and keep on earnin' son, ya know, Rome wasn't built in a day.
On CD from Nashville...call 502-290-7524...if no answer...please leave message..thanks!
Gone
Away
Not my love
Not possible
Not even a chance
Now the flame has gone out
The distance has been covered
With not so much as a warning
I watched my dreams burn up in to ash
And I know I’ll never be whole again