Best Cinder Poems
An ember sparked will softly glow,
and fed by fuel, will grow and grow.
I once was cinder, sparked by you,
first timid. . . till the flames then grew.
And so our start was touch of dawn,
with amber hue, for I was drawn
to eyes so welcoming and warm
I never guessed you’d do me harm.
Like morning glory, love in June
the rapture of mid-afternoon,
romance of which the ancients wrote,
our passion had no antidote.
And with the dusk, though scarlet tinged,
our love began to come unhinged,
for clouds arrived, which filled your eyes,
extinguishing bright twilight skies.
With cold of night came shadows’ pall,
and I could not tear down your wall.
By midnight’s hour, the fire was dead.
Mere ashes smoldered in its stead.
You left, and should you reappear,
I’ve vowed to shun you. Now I fear
the very thing for which I yearn -
one touch. . . and then again - to burn.
To ignite a life
within an empty fireplace
where the glow of the flame
reigns supreme,
reminds me
of a life time,
born and death
so, it seems.
For when the flame dies
and to rake through the ashes
sends a shiver down one’s
senescent spine,
knowing that one
similar day,
those embers
akin to mine.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
There is a black fire that reigns upon this land
It burns beyond the red and yellow flames
Dead and done to skies of cinder and ash
To choke voices in the dread of darkest hours
We struggle to empower our meaning
While the giving light of hope
Rides on the slope of choice in its bond to truth
And now lays reposed to guide
In the blighted dead of smoke and lies
A living fallacy this madness
Our demise battles with our sullen cries
As our soul's sadness clings
To the countless sacrifice
For equality in the decades of man
With great boundless fading grief
This disempowering shore of insanity
Opens its door with no relief from the exercise of hate
To suffocate liberty
To implore our beliefs with crushing weight
To have us flounder at the shores of possibility
Taking our final breath, our truth and freedom to restore
August 14, 2020
Be Inspired Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
My
best poem
was written
sometime before
two-thousand-seven, but
how, where, or why, I can’t
exactly say! Probably
it was based on a word challenge.
Most of my poetry has been birthed
from partaking in such activities.
Was it winter or summer; spring or fall?
Was it penned outside or on my bed?
Those facts have escaped my head.
Strangely, though it invokes
strong feelings, this poem’s
reality
is not that
of my
own!
Link to Cinder Girl: https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/cinder_girl_203924
For Phillip Garcia's The Tale of Your Best Poetry Contest
The clouds hanging low
muffled the maple-covered mountain.
Fog from the saturated earth
weakly, wet the newborn breeze.
Mist maintained the rainy connection
between earth and eternity.
A gray day lay upon
the weary weakened eye of morning.
Soon the breeze blossomed to wind
wiping the cinders from the sun.
An ember sparkled will softly grow,
and fed by fuel,will grow and grow.
I once was cinder,sparkled by you,
first timid...till the flames then grew.
And so our start was touch of dawn,
with amber hue,for I was drawn
to eyes so welcoming and warm
I never guessed you'd do me harm.
Like morning glory,love in June
the rapture of mid-afternoon,
romance of which the ancients wrote,
our passion had no antidote.
And with the dust,though scarlet tinged,
our love began to come unhinged,
for clouds arrived,which filled your eyes,
extinguishing bright twilight skies.
With cold of night came shadows' pall,
and I could not tear down your wall.
By midnight's hour,the fire was dead.
Mere ashes smoldered in it's stead.
You left,and should you reappear,
I've vowed to shun you,Now I fear
the very thing for which I yearn
one touch...and then again to burn.
By:Mohammad
An ember sparked will softly grow,
Just as love will grow to the depths that one will never know.
I once was cinder,
Sparked by you.
My love inside grew and grew.
Flames timid at first, but began to grow,
Just as my love for you spread,
As quickly as new fallen snow.
So our love began,
at the touch of dawn,
To welcoming eyes,
I was drawn.
Comforted by your touch ever so warm,
Never would I dream you to do me harm.
Now as the sky has turned to tinge,
Our love has become unhinged.
Flames once roaring,
Now barely alive,
No chance for one revive.
Etched out the corner
Sharpened to a blunt
Crumbling facade
Come runnin,
Won't you ?
Never could you hold this cold hand
Cause what you etched outta me
Is dissipated on some other concrete landing
Outta me
And I can't repair my own faceless feelings
Only to smash undesired love to the ground
Cause when you got it, I never wanted it.
You walk on out, but don't bare to look at what you take
You blocked my thoughts, until I'm hardless concrete
Turning to fine dust,
Your neglect.
Cinder...f...rella
Yes...that's me...
Cinder...f...rella,
Cannot believe it,
Nearly twelve o clock
And you know what happens then,
Yes...you got it!
Back into my rags...
Magic's wearing off,
And my beauty fades,
Don't mind losing the cloths,
Don't even mind losing the shoe,
But draw the line at the make up,
Don't want anyone to see me,
So I run...
As fast as I can,
Leaving... Prince charm...behind,
With my slipper,
Having said that,
He could have been...
Short, fat and ugly
For all I know!
So he can keep the dam thing,
All my life waisted...
One long fairy tale after another,
As far as...balls go,
Now look at me
Just like my ugly sisters,
Thought...!!!!!
Put some sparkle back,
But it never worked out,
So back to my day job,
Scrubbing floors,
Hoping...
One day my Prince will come,
And love me for who I am.
Without make up.
Trying to hold onto a little sparkle,
But...only in humour...
These days.
And so...she lived
Happily ever after.
Wendy Jae
Cinder...f...rella
Yes...that's me...
Cinder...f...rella,
Cannot believe it,
Nearly twelve o clock
And you know what happens then,
Yes...you got it!
Back into my rags...
Magic's wearing off,
And my beauty fades,
Don't mind losing the cloths,
Don't even mind losing the shoe,
But draw the line at the make up,
Don't want anyone to see me,
So I run...
As fast as I can,
Leaving... Prince charm...behind,
With my slipper,
Having said that,
He could have been...
Short, fat and ugly
For all I know!
So he can keep the dam thing,
All my life waisted...
One long fairy tale after another,
As far as...balls go,
Now look at me
Just like my ugly sisters,
Thought...!!!!!
Put some sparkle back,
But it never worked out,
So back to my day job,
Scrubbing floors,
Hoping...
One day my Prince will come,
And love me for who I am.
Without make up.
Trying to hold onto a little sparkle,
But...only in humour...
These days.
And so...she lived
Happily ever after.
Wendy Jae
My heart encapsulates the hues of the sunburst sky,
the sensitive strokes of your yearning’s tender brush
paint purple passion of blooming rose in my garden,
as on the convivial canvas cascade ripples of emotion.
The patina of enticement flushes your luring lips,
quivering with dulcet cadence of the dancing dew,
grazing on the glowing meadow of my fervent face,
at the acme of sensuous rapture I waft in euphoria.
The ivory valley between my curvaceous contours
seeks for the mesmerizing moments to linger on,
while your fondling fingers carve amorous course to sail
in the subterranean stream of my concealed craving.
My satin skin smolders in the cinder of intense urge,
longs for soothing breeze of nocturnal ardor of your caress.
As it slithers on the parched petals of my burning essence
your soft sensual touch feels like flitting butterfly romance.
Blossoms in the morning dew
A beautiful larks singing from afar
I look at each and every you
Days traverse sun to star
Dark clouds moving in so fast
Cinders’ about to make a mark
Debauchery of ash and ruin
Flowers burned no more lark
How quick a dream can turn to black
Erased and smoldering clouds are dark
Remnants piled on the ground
Tears fall all is lost Cinder left a brutal mark
Rebuild regrow again someday
A place of wonder of sun and heart.
Wood Nymph, wraps white
gossamer legs in hello, as branch shakes
in obvious "ka_ching"!
'Oh wait till you see what she does next",
tattles the tree, in an excited and mischievous
foreboding.
Itself, a Familiar and Servant,
hypnotized to carry and present her gift of wrap
and wrap of gift.
The naughty Nymph O pushes herself halfway up
like a tired and cautious sloth
(on the lip of a drinking cup.)
An innocent look beguiles her face
as essence of bark soils it's digits up,
To stick like a sponge to her curves like a leech
leeching much.
Nurses a clamp to her soft skin
as if to aspire seed of sapling in sap, sapping sin.
As She stares through, impossibly pierced,
her cruelly clumsy jiggle starks the eye
in an ultra violence of lumplumpsum.
The forest stirs with whispers of silence,
gossiper secretions to soil more.
Wood nymph dances careless,
her story unfolding, merciless amore.
Her web weaving legs, wrapped in ethereal grace,
licks of
delicate tricks of creature of delicacy.
Surreal ad vise given visa visage
it's enchanting embrace.
The trees, they giggle with mischievous delight,
as they await her next move, a magical sight.
A familiar servant, the branches extend,
presenting her gifts, their devotion, bend.
Halfway she rises, cautious and slow, oh dear.
Like a tired sloth, uncertain where to go
but nearer near.
Innocence plays upon her beguiling face,
as she clings to the bark, leaving presiding trace.
A sponge to her curves, the bark holds so tight,
seeks to crumble there.
Leaving a mark, a visible sign of it's mare.
But she dances on, with a clumsy sway.
A violence of debauchery in a mystical play,
there there, tears tears tears.
Her presence, it lingers, in the air, a fragrance,
mimicking the soul bare.
A poem to stir souls, in carom of supernatural
resonance in crept.
The wood nymph bewitches with every step,
to numb your penance swept.
Leaving an imprint of memory kept as plum-line erect.
In the depths of the forest, her essence will remain,
a powerful muse, never to wane.
For she is a poet's dream, an excuse so rare,
relished relic of the gone insane.
Captivated, beyond complain,
the Satyr's forehead yields sign, pops a vein.
Passions heat turns blaze
A blue white intensity
Close my eyes to it
and ride the heat waves higher
to the point I am a cinder
As blood and flush are falling
through my father's face, gauzy
sheet of death folding over, I
know that I have lost him -- his
sorrow, joy and fire gone out --
leaving but one cinder on the
Victrola.