Best Furnace Poems
OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM
(Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace)
Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:-
Considering last night’s revelation dreaming,
Waking up into this day the Lord has made,
I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical.
Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred,
Indeed, it has not been forgotten and deterred.
Oh, they may have murdered its dreamer, but
His and our liberation dream is immortal:-
Looking out over the horizon of our challenged life,
It is realized that we Exodus people have come a long way;
Survivors of the blood-stained shadows of horrific death:-
And we have come this far on the sojourn by faith.
Yes, we have come this far by an inherent faith—continuing
To maintain and sustain us in the present perils of our lives:-
And as African-Americans, surviving in this deemed “promise land”,
We’ve had and continue to have a special kind of relationship with God.
During our living experiences here during and after debilitating slavery,
We’ve seen, heard, felt, and responded to the Word of God in ways that
Are unique to us as an African people of God; for indeed, as chosen ones,
We’ve always been able to sing and praise God in truth and in holy spirits.
Reflecting on the truth of ourstory, it is realized that we are of a people
Whom many would have expected to have stopped singing and praying
A long time ago; yet, from generation to generation, we’ve just kept on
Singing and praising and trusting in the love of God and His redemption.
Indeed, sacred revelations continue to bring us from extermination
To exaltation, from degradation of dignity, from nobody to somebody;
With wide wondering eyes on the prize, we continue to sojourn onward
For our eyes have seen His glory as we have continued marching in His truth.
Indeed, we not only believe but know that in the savior’s favor
Life is and while our perils may endure here a little while longer,
We know that a liberating joyful stay here on earth is on the horizon
Promised by that very present help to those who live in good trouble;
Thus, let us not be exhausted nor deterred by the ghost tyranny
But with undying faith and spiritual strength, let us victoriously
Demonstrate that we are not of the children of Sisyphus’ fate;
But living reflections of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego:-
wildfire grips highland
like rolled furnace
exploding sparklers on night air
glares of blazed ecstasy crackle
leaves wear soot
while trees cough ashen blasts
For Debbie's Haiku Wannabees
by nette onclaud
Form: lune--5/3/5 WORDS perline
She'd had her round in Life's blighting furnace,
Where stealthy wear and age blurred her face.
Dents shot where dreamy dimples had grown,
Lightning smiles usurped by involuntary frown.
In her livelier turns by Midas' glowing shores,
She galloped and gleamed like grated brass.
Time’s grim cankers fell on the rarefied feast
Of the cutest eye ever cast on envious glass.
If as a reincarnated phoenix's her gone grin
Could twirl and morph into its erstwhile arc,
She’d anon repulse her timing nemesis’ sin,
And give her faded glories an eternal spark.
Bereft of that fairy fowl's sheen-saving magic,
She’d to inevitably brave decay's stoic scythe.
Merry rhyme sung her sweet charms to mimic
Faded to ethers wherein dead beauties writhe.
No looker who her earth-blemished visage espies,
Can know she was the fairest star in kindlier skies.
My life,
tried in the fire,
heated up seven times,
returns again to God refined
as gold.
IN THE FIRED FURNACE OF CALI
(APROPOS THE ANNUAL RUNNING OF FIRE AND MUD)
Roaring radiant raging waves of heat,
the charging beast, glowing red hot with anger,
devours all within its path; left over sable statutes
send streams of spiraling smoke sketching
grayish designs upon the hazy blue canvas above.
Weary eyes reflect the yellow-orange-red glow
that only the rage of a Dante-like hell could bring.
The wretched earth once again lay hopelessly
on the remnant of her charred bed: awaiting
her steaming tears to wash away the ashes.
In the meanwhile mourners collect scorched
memories: telltale recollections of sacrifices
nature left upon her Vulcan altar.
In the book of Daniel there is a story told
The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego
King Nebuchadnezzar made a decree
At the sound of the music, fall down and worship the gold idol or you will see
A fiery furnace will be your fate
Get on your knees before it's too late
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego refused to worship the gold idol, no way
Our God, whom we serve can deliver us from the fiery furnace, we will not obey
Into the fiery furnace they were thrown
However, King Nebuchadnezzar saw they were not alone
The king said there is a fourth man like the Son of God
They are NOT hurt in the midst of the fire where they trod
The King said Shadrach, Meshach, Abed-Nego come here
Their bodies the fire did not seer
As they came from the furnace door
Their garments were as before
King Nebuchadnezzar said, Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego
Who sent and angel to protect them because they trusted God I know
Any people or nation who about their God say anything amiss
Will be cut to pieces because No other God could have saved them like this
Aeneas crept into the depths
of the underground, upright
he stepped
darkly
as dead roses pressed
and she wept
(Persephone)
in the pit
(indemnity)
where shadows slept
bellowing
as bellows sing
so readily
below those mourning bells that ring
burrowed
'neath the death of Spring
borrowed
from the breath we breathe
burroughs
of departed greed
ennui ennui ennui I scream
wake up! this hell is not a dream
and all is eaten as it feeds
and everything is as it seems
and everything is vanity
as Ashteroth to Easter bleeds
calamitous insanity
the bedlam that Pandora breeds
and Neptune drowned himself in seas
abysmal king of dead seaweeds
the pit is dank and dark and deep
and filled with those of restless sleep
and as the riddle of the Sphinx
shows that time is entropy
just as chains are naught but links
our DNA, life's tapestry
unweaves itself unto deceit
stranding us in furnace heat
like the Rich Man full of thirst
as is the last so was the first
The moonlight illuminates the snow ---
Crystals sparkel like very precious gems ---
As I trod upon the ground, each step echoes ---
Steam is coming from my silent mouth ---
Even though I am bathed completely in cold sweat ---
My heart for God, burns hotter then any furnace.
Journeying The Fiery Furnace Of Hate…
Once more and again, our hush harbors of audacious faith,
Studded with rainbow stained panes, have become matchless
To the penetrating beams of the putrefying rays of fearful hate:
Veiling the blessings of the sacred cross’s grace and righteousness.
The wayward children of Satan no longer wear their stained sheet
Scorched by the sweltering flames of God’s desecrated trees---
But scroll with ease into the sacred fold where peace and love meet:
With bowed heads---collectively sowing seeds of Grace on bending knees.
It is said that to forgive an erred human mind, is truly and act divine.
It is said that we must forgive frightened minds oblivious to what they do.
What a heavy burden heaped upon the bloody hearts of yours and mine;
May The Most High God forgive my wanting vengeance for me and for you!
Once more and again, let the fiery furnace of hate be drenched with holy water
from above.
Once more and again, let our earthly sojourn leave footprints of victory, unity
peace and love.
Amidst the clove of reality and elation,
Lust, of incandescent sensation
Breathing taste into stomach and mind,
Odor, desire, all refined
Steam ascending like a creeping mist,
The smoldering heat shall not desist
Dissolving white, Mmm! flavor endowed,
Slithering upon the brownish origin’s cloud
Then the sweetness, a tap of infallibility,
Adding more flavor, hence tranquility
“Herbally” speaking, the odorous touch,
Finally convenes to create One and no such
Tea of Hayle, art to sculpt,
Tea, milk, sugar, and Hayle in cup…
Hayle: Arabic word for Cardamon
Euphoric light bounces
from the countless gems
that nature produces after pillars bleed
withered rubies carried away by wind
to destinations unknown.
Here and there bursts a spark of colourful joy
in the midst of a sea so alive.
All shades of cold stone and dark
give generously to creatures
tracking on earth’s crust.
Spring brings with it the glow
of melancholic shimmer
across lush valleys and mountains high.
In desire after the sun’s warmth
these still sustainers of life
create a glimmer of beauty’s hope,
shedding bark to time,
carrying the mysteries of old,
enduring the trials of season,
slowly reaching to touch Heaven’s face.
Moving to the waves of wind,
aging to birds’ melody,
falling to the rhythm of our needs,
nature whispers into humanity’s ears.
Oblivion serves to blind our eyes to
an ecstatic dance of the emerald furnace.
They're played but a ridiculous role,
Rather giving the thing a long pole:
I tell you bleeding many a heart:
One could see their billions in a cart!
At the cities' garbage glances stole,
Their hearts quite hard the blackest charcoal:
That's never a way to in wealth bask,
Leaving what partly should be one's task.
To who wants them to make it a goal
He also wants them to out cash dole!
So, it has been everywhere furnace,
Guys who unload their trailers Menace.
If one saw where they slept would wilt,
At nights human wastes on tar built...
To CO-VID 19 Campaigns most kind,
Because a lot of big laurels did mind;
To its sweet publicity not blind:
They shall in newspapers their names find...
"Yes, in the streets one can see the dirt
But none would dare to stick to my shirt."
Ever wondered what the life after death journey on the other side would be?
Are we off to the land of milk and honey or doomed for a life of excruciating pain and misery?
Is Heaven really as beautiful as they say?
Where your loved ones await you patiently each and every day?
Where children laugh and dance and play?
Where angels chant their mystic hymns
To the tunes of violins and harps, tranquility it brings?
Heaven must be a cosmic paradise
Where Eden is filled with orchards and luscious fruit, a place where a landscaped valley lies
Where flowers bloom and never dies, where rivers flow and never dries
Quenching your thirst on runny nectar while swimming downstream...
While on the other side Hell awaits like a tormented dream!
A prison of darkness, one dreadful antagonizing scream!
The devil's laughter echoing over and over again as his wicked grin takes pleasure in your pain, for you fell for his sinful game!
As you scream and writhe in agony while being tossed into a burning furnace with a monstrous flame!
No parents to protect you and no friends to blame
A repulsive smell of flesh and blood, hanging like a thick cloud in the air
It's too late now, there's no turning back once you set foot in the fiery lair!
So live a God fearing life on earth, kind hearted, respectful with tender love and care
Or end up like the arrogant and non-believers in the gut-wrenching pit of eternal nightmare!
Copyright@Farah Diba Pastor
2 April 2023
Most pain comes from something we've lost
,, like a life or a love- or a favorite dog.
How better to deal with the harshness of ghosts,
We plow on; we must plow on.
Will you crawl to a cave and wither away?
Or sit in the sun - repair the wings of your faith,
Will you search for things to fill in the spaces?
But you can't bring what's dead back into life
Death by far owns the deepest of pits.
So, we tap salt and asphalt into the abyss
and plow on; we must plow on.
Each loss forms a string of asps in the mind.
Snapping wildly at sanity and hobbling stride-
Will you proudly wear pain like a soldier of medal and scar,
or cover it up in a 90-proof Mason Jar.
But we plow on; we must plow on.
We're draft horses working the rocky fields of life.
Whips forever cracking in the foyer of the mind.
Wooden backs bowing to the fierce furnace of time.
But we must plow on; we must forever plow on.
My fury and outrage remain unabated , it seethes like magma
and spreads itself throughout my being , it is barely contained
I shield it to keep the damage within , so it does not consume me
or those I love and want not to hurt.
My dark raving hisses and steams awaiting release , with screams,
hysteria that I may not be able to save the one that becomes my
vent , the outpouring eruption of pain , that I would whip and lash
with lurid pitch that it might cloak with agony the one whom I love
upon its receipt .
Why cannot I cover it and shift my focus to that which builds and
does not tear down and ravage as I have been ravaged?
Why does not that majesty of things that stand before me
not move me to ease or peace?
Oblivion , that vast chasm that plunges deep within my
soul ice cold heart , I wish it destroyed , but its the only thing
within that seems still alive and beating.
I wish it replaced with tenderness and warmth that it may
mark you with pleasure and not agony, clothe you with
beauty and not the ugliness that has taken up residence
and keeps its rent.
In sackcloth and ashes I mourn the loss of innocence , not
for myself only but for all those who suffer , and raise
not their hands against the perpetrators of their suffering.
God do not let me join in acts of perpetuation , that I strike
others in kind , in repayment for their deeds.
My life has been sacked and looted , thieves have stolen every
precious piece of personality that might make me redeemable.
Raw and naked estate exposed, my inheritance from Adam ,
I was molded in pain and forged by fire imprinted by a storm
of ire......
Oh God , why did you preserve me so that I had not died and
left me alive to cry , scream at the trials of fire that blister
the souls of men....
Awaken oh my heart , do not sleep in the death of love , and
the reign of savage pain , and the cries of those who live in
affliction , whose cries have been silenced before you.....
My tears have become stone , my walls a castles fortress
I cannot cast aspersions it holds you as well as I,
unlike the earth my stone cannot drink in the sun
Job moments
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC