Best Flame Poems
Be the star that brightens someone’s dark sky,
Be the light that illuminates a gloomy night,
Be the flame of compassion to life gone awry,
Even if you don’t think your candle is bright.
Despair not in a world gripped in jaws of woe
For beyond hills of grief dwells halo of hope,
Be the spring that rises through wintry throe,
Even when struggling in laments hard to cope.
Be the forest that grows through ashes of fire,
Be the dream that assuages angst of nightmare,
Be the angel of goodwill when times are dire,
Even when fate, callously, ignores your prayer.
Be not pain of misery, be not voice of dismay,
From goals of life revered, you must not stray,
Wish not for anyone, horizons shrouded gray,
Even while a storm drenches your sunny day.
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A beaver bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
I watched them gather round
The warmth of your flame
Like campers at campfire time
Huddling close to you
Pushing and jostling
For the best place
I saw your warmth
Dancing off their faces
Small cinders escaping into the night
I followed the sparks drifting up
On the chilly breeze
Riding high…disappearing into the stars
I was cold
I was alone
On the edge
And yet…I dared not go near you
Though your light invited me
And I wanted so much to be warmed
By you
Yet….how could I find a place
By those encircling you
Watching the mesmerizing display
Of your orange and yellow flames
There was no place
Among the gathering of....
The strong, the beautiful, the insistent
So, on the outskirts I stayed
Tears trickling down my cheeks
Cold
Alone…
I waited…I held back
Until they all left
One by one
Some bumping into me
Not even aware that I was alive
I waited until you had almost died out
No longer on display
But a warm glow of embers
Still orange and glowing with desire
And I approached
Shyly…
Longingly…
Needing to see you dance
For me….only for me
And I coaxed you
In my clumsy way
My fingers cold
My heart ablaze
Suddenly....you burst into flame
A pillar of fire
Miracle of love
For I had not added any kindling
But my little heart
And yet it seems you had waited
Knowing I would come
And my slightest touch
Made the flames spring to life
Voracious flames
Flames reaching the high heavens
Your heat overpowering
Consuming
I almost threw myself into you
Wanting to reach the center
Of the heat and warmth
Of your beauty…
I spent the night
Out under the stars
Lying naked
Yet not cold
Naked
Yet not ashamed
Naked
Yet not shy
For your glow was my covering
I let myself be touched
Time and again
By licking fingers of fire
By the burning flames of your desire
For….ME!
For Gail's Contest
Touched by Your Flame
May 27, 2013
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u
m
b
i
l
i
c
a
l
c
o
r
d
Is
This
Nature's Glory
As a quarry?
Alone and at peace
A life, a new lease
I pull up a piece of land
Take a little time to mend
This rainforest trembles
An open window in shambles
Sitting on my own made porch
I fire up a configured torch
Then lay under, should I say
What is like a porch light ray
And I wait for that one moth
Amongst butterflies sought
An unwanted reject
Like me ready to eject
Take me now in this lush
With the roar of death; a hush
And I will go, amongst this gift
Gods Eden unquestioned; my lift
My life to stop the bleeding of the land
So I protect this marvel, hold her hand
In sincere motion - there is a fusion
I can do
I can do
Never say can't
So I must chant
Let my body meld
With this
forest held
tight
Me alone a window into the future slightly opened
Maybe we are all like moths to a flame - penned
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Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade
with the relish to ravish ravaging
every fiber
Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes: gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare
You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived, you leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me
And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame
~*~*~*~again~*~*~*~
Eileen Manassian
This is a repost that has over a thousand views. Just trying to remind myself of the glory days. I seem to be unable to write at the moment....and poets can be a strange lot. If you don't post...you're forgotten, at least by most. The feeding frenzy is for words..and if you're empty, you are neglected. I'm glad I have friends who visit my older works even when I'm not around. I need to cultivate this spirit in my life because I know what it's like not to be visited....
The center of energy resides in my heart
Wherein the seed of divinity shant ever depart
Their joy's root anchors firmly, yet lightly
In my I AM presence it shines ever brightly
The Trinity is embodied in three glorious plumes
Blue, yellow, and pink; It's grand sacred rooms
Of Power and Wisdom and Eternal Love
Father, Son, Holy Spirit; on earth and above
The Threefold Flame I humbly seek
To arrive at last to the spiritual peak
With elation I fulfill my reason to be
The Liberty Flame! My soul's eyes can now see
At long last I've completed my life's fated course
As my soul splendidly weds the One Supreme Source
Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade
with the relish to ravish ravaging
every fiber
Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes: gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare
You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived your leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me
And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame
Eileen
Arise and fall; the cycle of life; birth and death are human plight.
A life is lit and it burns short; when matches struck bring in discord.
Flames burn dim or bright; many deny, their own bright light.
Vistas of autumnal flame set the fiery meadows afire
Where song of the winds wheezes in auburn breeze
And gold, red, brown whispers kindle tunes of a lyre
Rustling in cool air, melodies of leaves, falling from trees
Where song of the winds wheezes in auburn breeze
Pumpkin dreams meet to greet tricks of Halloween treat
Rustling in cool air, melodies of leaves, falling from trees
As carpets of crimson colors crunch beneath eager feet
Pumpkin dreams meet to greet tricks of Halloween treat
And gold, red, brown whispers kindle tunes of a lyre
As carpets of crimson colors crunch beneath eager feet,
Vistas of autumnal flame set the fiery meadows afire
October 5, 2019
Placed 4th: Poet’s October pantoum cash prize poetry contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
HM:Strand choice 5 contest by Brian Strand
Burning candle
tells a tale of
pure selfless life
Be such a flame
let your aim be
to tame darkness.
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A Than-Bauk, conventionally a witty saying or epigram, is a three line "climbing rhyme" poem of Burmese origin. Each line has four syllables. The rhyme is on the fourth syllable of the first line, the third syllable of the second line, and the second syllable of the third line.
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The flame dances on a breeze;
Candlelight dances on the walls.
Amazing shadows will be seen;
Wherever those flames may fall.
Such magical creatures are candle flames;
Mesmerizing beings.
Up there on my Mantle,
The dancers play out scenes.
They dance to their own stories;
Amazing mysteries.
No choreographers paint such glories;
The flames, quite creative, be.
Candle flame or burning fire;
They never fail to inspire.
There lies my heart,
Quite ragged, torn -
My father passed
This brumal morn ...
How ruthless came
This face of death,
Warm on my cheek,
His last, soft breath ...
Yet blessed, was I,
Thru grand design,
To walk him home,
His hand ... in mine ...
Oh treasure, sweet,
The folks you love -
Too brief the flame,
Burns life, thereof.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Strand Select 8, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
* This was read at Dad's service on December 10, 2019, and published in the local paper. He and I were never close, and he had never held my hand until the photo above, (though he was unconscious and never again awake). It is the last picture taken of him. Despite our distance, I was honored to be the one with him when he passed. *
( I love you, Dad ... I'll never know a better man, in every sense of the word ).
A flame once burned so brightly everything in sight
seemed quite beautiful in its blinding light.
Everything I took for truth once upon a time
seemed to me more glorious; love seemed more sublime.
Then the fire began to die. Every little flaw
I began to clearly see till I’d seen it all.
Half a lifetime and the flame still is burning out.
As it dims, I am learning what life is about.
But the happy medium I had come upon
soon will flicker less and less. Going….. Going…. Gone.
When my flame goes nearly out, will there come a pall?
In the darkness that will come - will I see at all?
How I miss those days of yore - passion of my youth -
when a flame once burned, and I thought I knew of truth.
Do come, my love, for I insist!
Within the darkest crevices of time, we fight, we cry, I die
As vision gives us knowledge, we descend farther into the grime
Curiouser and curiouser, we fall in dark crevices of time
Molded by imagination’s ink, the tentacles stretch outward
Singed from top to bottom, see the glorious coals sparkle
Yes, even before their completion into diamonds never comparable,
It is the very time in between the transformation that enchants the very soul
For in this time, I see the very worst of you,
How it shines without shame, aching to be tempered,
Crushing to prevail over its creators,
The tentacles squirming in hollow defense,
Ink spreading in the dark blue waters of deepest sorrow and agony
How your beak ever pecks upon its prey,
Dashingly exquisite, its sharpness—petulant in its purpose
And I say to you, as you destroy—come, for I shall not back away
When the weapons you hold fall upon my budding flesh
Growing despite the damages you have made
Come, my love, come!
See how my wounds have me, exalt me, trust me…
Into a reality I deeply fall, forcing you upon your knees
For how I know, through your destructing ways,
That together I will always make us be
Come, my love, for I die,
Heavy in the ecstasy of grief,
See how the fairy trees dance upon woes and lift hearts like plucked flowers
How demons with tempting eyes move as squealing moths crawl toward our fires
Wishing the burn of the coals, yet never touching such change
How the light floods through and through, to every dark corner and fissure
Licking the bonding surfaces with perfumed oils crackling
The black tentacles scatter outwards, forming a wall around the growing blaze
My eyes close—from those very eyes you came
Descending to ascend, my love you crave
Trusting the time I have tamed in last feat,
You rise into the everlasting restoration of our name
Somewhere along waxed moonglow,
he is there
like a sweet aftertaste on my lips;
through warm fingers he groans
as silence closes my eyelids...
and even the pang that he leaves
becomes a flame in itself.
And what is compelling
about the musk of this star
is how his gaze can enter into
my universe fondling hidden caves
when he heaves soft love;
raw as touches unbuttoning
my cellar...he conquers me.
A hundred whispers
drape me from the mounds
of my peak that burns like oil in me;
and I am gone, so delirious
into the beams of his arms.
Till the falling of evening,
when again he strokes his laughter
on my hair, to drift there on my trails,
like a winding branch dressing my
skin with songs of flowers waking
our glazed vows... he conquers me.
Greg Barden's The Poet's Fire Challenge
Submitted 9/22/2017
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Previously Written for Hotsy Totsy Contest
2/22/2015