Best Smoldered 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.
an ugly gray rock, so I kicked it along
amused by my memories, humming a song
it was jagged and rough - I gave it no mind
and punted it thrice, then left it behind …
I changed up my hum and walked on alone
not thinking it special, (it WAS just a stone)
yet the farther I got from where it had been
the more I considered that "plain" rock
again
something about its proportions or form
contrasted just slightly, was not quite the
norm
the way that it tumbled, or lay there, just SO
or maybe the way it had bounced off my
toe
whatever it was, I could not quite discern
but decided right then, it was worth a
return
so, I spun myself 'round, headed back to
that spot
still not sure of WHY - just a feeling I got
but when I returned, it had broken in two -
an incredible OPAL flamed red, green and
blue!
scant had I known just what "ugly" could
hold -
all the prismatic colors that smoldered,
untold!
well …
I couldn't help think that a lesson was there
of the plain folks we see, that we pass,
unaware
for they are more precious than any gray
stone
with such wonders inside - yet we leave
them alone
perhaps if we gave them a wink or a grin
we might find the bright of their beauty
WITHIN
the colors that light their charisma and
grace
the complexion of charms that don’t show
on a face
the places they’ve been or the roads they
have run
their moonlight romances and days in the
sun
the wealth of their spirit, their talents and
rage
they’ve a story to tell, if we’d just turn the
page
so, I keep in my pocket, a piece of that rock
to help me recall what I learned on that walk
not to take "plain" for granted, or push folks
aside
but instead, look for sparks of their fires …
deep INSIDE.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Overlooked Beauty" Poetry Contest, Jesse Rowe, Judge & Sponsor.
You’d think a dog named Lucky,
Would lead a decent life.
But Lucky had his troubles,
And they followed day and night.
One day Lucky ran away
In search of greener pastures
Just to find a field ablaze,
Thus the start of his disasters.
Although Lucky didn’t die that day
And no limbs or parts were broken,
Lucky smelled of smoldered hair
And you’d swear he kept on smokin!
And Lucky liked to chase the cars,
Till the day he lost his nerve
When Lucky met a big ‘ol bus
That couldn’t stop or swerve.
I’m not sure just how it hit him
Or how he’s here today.
But he’s never walked straight since,
And one eye veers away.
My Lucky always clashed with cats
And was leery of their paws.
Until a “Tom” of forty pounds
Let Lucky feel his jaws.
Hair and fur balls filled the air
Like Cottonwoods a bloomin.
Poor ‘ol Lucky lost an ear,
And now looks twice as stupid.
I confess, I named him wrong
And why he stays, I’ll never know.
I guess that I’m the lucky one,
To have Lucky here at home.
She wears
a dark façade -
a charcoal grey
once hot like burning coals.
Consumed by too much passion
she was scorched.
Too long
she has smoldered.
Her dark façade
is cold now. . . and brittle.
She fears that if you touch her
she’ll crumble.
Written 10/30/12 By Andrea Dietrich
For Nette Onclaud's VIEWS FROM A VIGNETTE Poetry Contest
*“Ring around the Rosy. A pocketful of posies.
Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down.” - a nursery rhyme
Gone to ashes.
Each town was a burial ground
gone to ashes.
Multitudes wore rosy rashes;
The Black Death’s ring was on them found.
Dead bodies smoldered all around. . . .
gone to ashes.
Now children chant
“Ashes, ashes,” while in a ring.
Now children chant
and they’re strangely exuberant!
Of pockets of posies they sing
and think not of one deathly thing!
Now children chant.
Written by Andrea Dietrich/ Feb. 16, 2012
and inspired by nette onclaud's
ALPHABETS OF RONDELET Poetry Contest
(I chose Ashes, but also Chant was used
in verse two).
*Please click on "about this poem" to see
the origin of the nursery rhyme it discusses.
Banished into the hall for the art of magic
Cracked and crackled he practices with despair
As loneliness consumed and his life purged in doubt
This magician whose life was cut to pieces
Feeling crushed and defeated, practices his art.
This banished magician soul once thrived
In the realm of worldly magic
Now, banished and tarnished to the core
the loneliness ever consumed his distraught mind
His thoughts became agonized by pain and sorrow
His determination to succeed consumed his soul
The blistered broken heart that once was scattered
Now became the breath smoldered with hate
Imprisonment brought determination and strength
His magical spells became stronger
His hands and rod became a lethal weapon
He flung balls of fire wanting to burn the souls,
that sent him to this eternal dungeon
His magic became powerful making him feel invincible
No one would dare challenge his power
He felt he was invincible to the world
But, he was banished for a reason and that
reason would have to come to the surface.
As he met with the magical magicians he learned
that he had to learn to channel the magic
channel the power within himself for the power of good
and evil rested in his very own hands.
A lesson that needed to be learned if he was to
survive in the magical world..
(Verse 1)
Gathered in an antique bowl
All the letters from their joyful life
Kneeling like prayer, she’ll stoke the fire
She’ll burn the words, they are for her alone
(Chorus)
Like unwritten pages..
Hopes, cries, dreams, sighs
Will flow out, debris after rain
Our untold stories..
Smiles, scrapes, charms, the screams
Will go out, smoldered by rain
(Verse 2)
Countless hours make a life
Shear number of moments stun
Commotion, struggled swim
Ripples will calm to glass
(Chorus)
Like unwritten pages..
Friends, shams, loves, spills
Will flow out, debris after rain
Our heartfelt stories..
Kids, aches, meals, the scars
Will go out, smoldered by rain
(Musical interlude)
(Chorus)
Like unwritten pages..
Jokes, peeves, pets, lies
Will flow out, debris after rain
Our ancient stories..
Thrills, falls, truths, the hells
Will go out, smothered in sand by time
Listen to this as a song!
http://www.soundclick.com/bands/page_songInfo.cfm?bandID=41813&songID=12477597
_
Residue
Wrapped in cellophane and ribbon
mocking burned down evergreens
Screaming at the shadowed walls
as nightmares spurn your toxic dreams
Lurking near the bottles filled with
endless empty molten fears
Dampening the diapers as a
mother cries her countless tears
Broken weave of tattered sleeve behind the darkness to believe
That midnight forms what we conceive in moments cast to only grieve
We’ll go dancing nightly
in the attic
while the moon is rising
in the sky
If I’m too drunk tell me,
I’m so scared your little
head will come off
in my hands
What the heck did you expect for just a speck, a tiny fleck
Now hit the deck you wretched wreck as long ago we did suspect
Counting money residue on
blackened smoldered fingernails
As billion dollar babies sing
in toothless whining rancid wails
Toddlers of the devil’s creed wear
shiny plastic floating eyes
Now staring at you while you sleep
these monsters gather in disguise
This poem was inspired by one of my favorite songs,
Alice Cooper’s “Billion Dollar Babies”
The italicized lines are lyrics from that song. Here is a link to the song: https://youtu.be/6sD8sO0B97I
And in case you didn’t know, the other voice you’ll hear singing on the song is Donovan (Mellow Yellow)
It is in fire
that each of us is born.
Fires ignited in consuming passion
to embrace the pleasures of the heart and flesh;
fires
rising from the smoldered embers within
unquenched, indestructible burning of the heart;
lips pursed to reveal
the sensual enticing
opening to come forth, give in;
touch the candle flames and burn
endure the torch within,
set the blaze afire
scorch the mind of thought
and melt in the all-consuming charring
of love;
be the slave, the tormented martyr
the agonized hunger satisfied
by the consummation of love
beyond all dreams, beyond imagination;
give in, submit, succumb
there is no escape, you are forever captive,
the slave of love forever
seared in the passionate blazing glow
of the fire burning unceasingly.
Slave to Love Poetry Contest
John Hamilton
July 3, 2019
I felt her before I saw her
She had the flashiest most beautiful red-blue hair
A blue blood, naturally
Her lips were painted a luscious cherry red
Redder than the advertisement girls of the fifties
Was I dreaming? I looked at my assistant.
We sent the other models home.
We knew we had found our it girl
She was wearing a lacy top that accentuated her bosom.
And what a bosom it was.
Her hair dropped over one eye, but we could see her look.
She smoldered.
She was standing next to an oak tree that felt her too.
The leaves on the tree immediately transmogrified from brown to red.
She was magnificent, and we were grateful to find her.
Her hourglass figure I will never forget, and neither will my assistant.
We speak of the mysterious woman often.
She vanished right after we took the photos.
Only one turned out, but it was enough.
"Fire and Ice Love Duel"
fierce fire of love smoldered, melting chilled veins
frozen in tears from passion's masquerade game
a grieving heart shattered as glass windowpanes
ressurected by lovelight's intimate flame.
fire sparks lovers to trust words so gentle
as ice quells desires strong and sentimental.
elements contrast and hide deep affection
creates 'paradise' or blatant rejection.
*****
while embers glow softly, emotions renewed
scars from dark past wither into furnace heat
remnants of romance lost in feelings askewed
as tenderness begs to deny false repeat.
fire illuminates a wanton seared soul
for fire evokes magic moments to whole.
veniers of ice vanish in vapory mist
swallowed by love duel's eternal exist.
*****
*For Carol Sunshine Brown's Fire and Ice Contest.
*Written by: Linda-Marie The "Sweetheart" of P.S.
*Nov. 18, 2012.
A list is kept of every penchant gauged,
Of evil deeds and innocents betrayed.
A guilty sting, a burn beneath their tongue
The knowledge none can hide, for it will come.
It's always there, a blink beyond their view,
Awaiting drifting mist and settled dew.
Translucent in the shadows of the day,
A night wind wings it to a woeful place.
The darkness of a field that has no bounds.
Two tracks of molten steel have purged the ground.
The weeds, ablaze in strips, a rumble rolls.
A train with flaming windows stops to load.
With pleading masses boarded, it embarks
And leaves the smoldered, moonlit field unmarked.
A distant hoot, a nook within a tree,
An Owl, who watched it all, curls down to sleep.
Gene Bourne
06-18-14
I scorn thee, Puberty! Damn thee as well,
Thou abominable herder of shame,
Will thou findeth glee by my told sarspell?
I beseech thee of ineffable name,
Rendereth thineself as quiet slain game,
For thine cruel ends be reached, let thine eyes droop,
Immortal Rite, meeteth Poetry Soup.
Forsaken specs findeth young Phillip (me),
He the first noble son born of Sir Mike,
That betrothed Diane, mother of he (me);
Neareth NASA lived they by Houston’s dike,
We plus two girl offsprings I still dislike;
Turneth back time to nineteen ninety five,
Thus now the setting as ocean, we dive.
I of ten years then plus three more years aged,
By mine mom’s woven hand rags yet adorned,
Draperies bindething spirits encaged,
Mine lot too ignorant still ‘be forlorned,
For two years would pass ‘fore Nike I yearned;
Looken now friends, at thine narrator’s dress,
Mine costumes for school were each mismatched mess.
And hath we not yet speaketh mine afro?
Then let us for humor’s saketh too laughs
For atop mine snow pale flesh did it grow!
It was beneath that nest mine brain did graphs
On one Tuesday morn; during sixth grade math,
Unbeknownst of a sneaking wretched pest:
That ineffably named prepubescent guest.
Still in present times remember I can’t,
What the hell kindled mine loins ablaze,
Yet fiery flames of embarrassment
Secretly smoldered through my brainy haze;
When mine teacher upon me called that I raise,
And thus stirred the scene I’ve oft reflected,
The moment I’ve chosen for my most embarrassing?
When in 6th grade math class I stood up…
…fully erected
Sparks fly, flames ignite
intoxicated passion
follies of greenness.
Haste vows in wishes
rapid change adaptation
birth of an angel.
Smoldered brawl outburst
pen scribbles by gavel's call
Fire sizzles then drown.
Comes winter anew
tears of the lonely angel
token of regret
Dovey Annie
(This is my first time writing a Haiku poem. It is raw and lack shine, but hope you guys will enjoy.)
My incentive, you provide
Behind me, your seat was
My mind, stolen by your thought
To help was my ask, accepted you did
Animosity, was it all in my mind
A fool like me, you are not
Stressed was I, as my entrance was made
A book, had I ignored its presence
Claiming that difficulty, there was none
Your settlement, showed no panic
Stability, was yours to own
Calmness did your sight, share
My questions, did I pose
Seeking answers, was I not
Importance were they little, to me
Your voice, the only motive for my ask
To hate, you showed no intent
My ignorance had not dissuaded your care
Glances, did I steal many
Awkwardness was it a conception
Your beauty, a pride in itself
My wishes to bring back what was, intensified
A norm did I want renewed
Change was my belief, not you
To write my paper, were there no obstacles
My passion, no longer constricted by an absence I moulded
A shackled heart, unshackled by you being
Forgetting you, was a choice no more
Art would be nonexistent, if your image was smoldered
A driven pen am I, when my side is not alone
Confidence was my bask, a length
Idiocy had you relieved me of, through purity
My actions had you not reflected
A wrath remembered by myself, but forgiven in your eyes
Study did I, conceding that your genius was of heart
Whilst mine, a stem of love
Changed had my pen's drive, only
Dissuasion of my love, had I attempted through belief
Your sight a root of the potential, a fool claims