Best Torched Poems
I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes.
William Butler Yeats
Notions had gathered inside my head;
a wanderlust that refused to be denied.
Within my mind, the need of love was bred,
burned in tongues of fire that torched a hole
inside my heart and seared my soul.
I sought the finest wine from the valley floor,
to sate my thirst when he'd stand at my side.
I climbed heathered hills; crossing streams
Down twisting paths I ambled, taking wrong turns
until I found the enchanting vision in my dreams,
and feasted on the fruit of my heart's desire.
But too soon he slipped from my arms.
Left behind were his vespers in passion's embers,
and fading echoes of his whispered words.
Time rushed through years like sifting sand
but the fire he kindled has not died.
I remember the gentle touch of his hand,
and sweet moments of devotion we stole.
Now, with feeble steps I remain in pursuit
of memories we made long ago in the valley.
I hear his voice in the wind, and I cannot refute
that love's flame still burns within my soul.
An interpretation of ''The Song of Wandering Aengus,"
by William Butler Yeats.
Categories:
torched, love,
Form:
Rhyme
The night like clouded charcoal scorched,
A sea of trees with starlight torched.
A night where laws are sound asleep,
Anarchic prayers running deep.
Alone I hear the wretched screams
Of screeching trees... or so it seems.
The cries protract into the air,
Without a sound they disappear.
The shrieks have bartered now anew
With sounds of meat and boney chew
Discharging from the faithless trees
And snarling with my memories.
But creatures' gruesome growlings drown.
I smell the gunpowder and frown.
The waging sounds of war advance
In battle stance with gun and lance.
The sounds of bleeding men enhanced,
The sounds of fate and time and chance,
No sooner do they cross the trees
Than fade as all their voices freeze.
But worse than bombshell sounds occur;
The storms, the winds, the thunder stirs.
The roars that shake the forest's roots,
The flowers, soil, and passion fruits
A rainy resonance restocks
The grass the air the woods the rocks
And washes with its dancing tingle
All the sounds that intermingle:
A dreaming forest in the night,
And trapped within its fanfare fright,
It chokes me in its thunder thrill
And hangs me in the silence still,
And hangs me in the silence still.
Categories:
torched, allegory, angst, life, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
l.
Opening the closet of narra doors, I sweep through
organza skirts and gemmed ringlets; my hair
ruffling aimlessly upon scalloped kerchiefs
smelling decade - old hyacinth, Mom’s favorite
ambrosia: she would lift her anklets
in tiptoed hums, ”night and day, you are the one..”
Evenings touched her candle hands; hands
that soothed wounded knees from jackstone fights;
her fingers caressing a pony -tailed girl’s wrath
with piano keys rippling into a gentle moan;
“night and day you are the one…”
And i am delivered from my tempestuous rants.
ll.
From nowhere, the porcelain mirror gazed at me;
her rhythm of silence billows, cradling my nights
with each veil of her almond eyes
that enter into my irises: a serene sight
too close, much too tight I clung to her unspoken word.
Through years, I grew like a bamboo shoot: her quiet smiles
and music walked me through reality’s maze.
And how I would wail bearing the grim of hard study,
coughing late, late hours of reading toil…yet,
she stayed like a moth with charm flushed
in a wind of calm gaze, ebbing .
lll.
And only Mom could melt my temper
when my raging soul paused to wonder
at her light’s glow: oh, her feminine beat illumined
more lamplights dancing inside this rebellious head…
and now, she hovers around me.
I become her eyes, chanting, “night and day,
you are the one” ; never balking at my surreal conquests.
She is gone bequeathing warmth into my torched flights
without question; with much love dripping
from her graceful movement, straying all through
these my breaths: “night and day, you are the one…”
Best Sad Poem Ever Contest of Laura Loo
Resubmitted 8/28/2016
Categories:
torched, longing, mother daughter,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The Sun Rises- -The Moon Sets
Think of life, the cycle of
How radiation can support life, enough heat to
Ensure a stable self sustaining system.
Something like our RA, peasants producing
Under this celestial god. He may be dull at times, but
Never far from active.
Rising to all inhabitants.
Imitated by many, but none can capture
Something so surreal. For many hours
Everything thrives into productivity only to
Soon fade.
Telescoping images of you in the night
How warm is your glow soft blue white
Ever circling the world we call home
Master of revolution, elliptical, precise
Omnipresent, effervescence
Orb of the night, silent in flight
Never failing, glowing light
Shimmering beauty, through magnified eye
Emitting a wondrous, magnificent sight
Torched your surface, by meteor showers
Shine again tomorrow, I'm forever yours
This poem is written in the Acrostic style by father and son..
SUN written by son, MOON written by father
2009...........Jared Pickett and Richard Pickett
Categories:
torched, life, naturemoon,
Form:
Acrostic
In a land torn by evils cruel hands
where innocence once thrived in golden sand
echoes now haunt barren torched lands
of children lost, tears fall in graves of pain
Fourteen thousand souls, too young to know
caught in the crossfire, victims oppressed
their laughter silenced as dreams cut short
in a horror of genocide where all limbs bleed
Babies cradled in arms, so tender and small
now lie cold and lifeless, victims silent in white shawls
their tiny hearts, once filled with hope's embrace
now silenced forever in a merciless disgrace
The army's march such ruthless crimes
leaving devastation in its tide
families torn apart by Israels cruel wand
as they mourn the loss of those they held fond
Oh, may their memory be a solemn vow
strive for peace and harmony, lets end sorrow forever now
for in the wake of such unfathomable hate
lies a plea for humanity to erase this state
Categories:
torched, dark, discrimination, evil,
Form:
Quatrain
You look at me... with disgust in your eyes
At all of the flaws.. I can no longer hide
And I know in your heart... you want to throw me away
Forgetting it's you... who has made me this way
Yes! I know I'm no longer...the beauty I was
On the day that we met...and you fell in love
And I have been faithful... for all of these years
Through all of your laughter... and all of your tears
Through fallen Souffle's... and torched Flambe's
Your Chef dreams all strewn... in disarray
It is I who has taken the heat for you
Now really! ...is this what you want to do?
Throw me away... like a dirty old rag
Or hang me again...on that old wooden peg
There in my place...above the kitchen mantle
The Pot Holder who takes...what you can not handle.
Written: May 13th, 2020
Author: Elaine Cecelia George of Canada
Categories:
torched, character,
Form:
Personification
Love is blind, deaf, dumb and stupid.
I blame it all on the imp called Cupid.
No warning shot fired over my head
His arrow struck and brought me dread.
The poisoned point of that lethal dart
Was the reason love grew inside my heart.
The toxin traveled within my veins
And held me with the strength of chains.
Love spread as quickly as a wildfire,
In heated flames of uncontrolled desire.
It left behind a heart he had torched,
Bleeding, torn and badly scorched.
I refuse to rhapsodize that love is grand
it can be washed away like words in sand.
Only a romantic fool will ever believe
Love brings only joy and no reason to grieve.
Of sad songs and tears, I've had my fill.
They've left me cold as winter's chill.
I now sleep alone in my half empty bed.
It's the price to pay when love is dead.
No longer reason for me to linger.
He'd removed the ring from his finger.
Without hope that he'd want to put it back,
Our marriage was shrouded in funeral black.
From the precipice edge I began to fall,
As high as a towering castle wall.
In fear, I trembled ever further down
Into a moat of tears, I fell and drowned.
Heart-wrenching, my decision to walk away,
But I could no longer risk my life to stay.
No words of regret would I have written
If by Cupid's arrow I'd not been smitten.
How different would be my thoughts
If he'd not taken aim at my lonely heart.
A reflective moment of bereaving.
A remembrance of love's deceiving.
Would I have wished I'd not been shot
And wounded by love? No, I think not.
Even though it's all come to an end,
My bleeding heart has begun to mend.
What good is there to live with regret?
Or in wishing that we'd never met?
What once was love is now in the past.
Cupid's potions don't always last.
Sometimes love brings too much pain
With more to lose than there is to gain.
Time has passed without a pause
And broke the hold of Cupid's cause.
I've taken away the hunter's quiver
Before another shot can be delivered.
Another love to tear me apart ~
Another arrow to pierce my heart.
....................................................
2-18-16
The Heart That Bleeds: Forever Malta
Categories:
torched, lost love,
Form:
Rhyme
Too long spent in deep shadows
prevented my eyes from seeing
why the lights were so dimmed
why I had the need for freeing
Verses written by candle light
but not signed with my name
with one step out of the shadow
my first poem went up in flame
No lack of inspiration to fuel
a captive poet's sensitive ire
he reached for my written words
I torched their corners with fire
A ray of light through a small crack
the dungeon door he didn't close tight
stimulus kept me awake and writing
penning until darkness of the night
Words of anguish and freedom I wrote
morning shadows danced on my face
he came once more to taunt my soul
he who buried me in this tomb-like place.
He reached for my writings on the table
I stubbornly shook my head, turned away
clutching my night's work to my breast
I bravely said, "I must see the light of day."
Carried from the cavern's earthen ground
I looked at him near the edge of the river
he reached again for my treasured verses
into the rushing water, my writings deliver.
Hands covered my face in fear of reprisal
his strength brandishes strikes with clout
eyes shielded from the sun's blinding rays
I waited for him to take his thrashing rout
No clobbering fists or slaps given in anger
no harsh threats to bring forth my cries
no monstrous shadows looming over me
freed from my shadow by opening my eyes.
Categories:
torched, poetess,
Form:
Rhyme
The see-saw backsides of obesity traverse across the promenade
Led by bustling torpedo breasts thrusting through the hustling throng;
Past tarnished chromium espresso bars, burger vans with frying lard,
Ice cream parlours, sagging deckchairs and the sunlight blazing on.
Splayed upon the greying sands with butts of cigarettes in shallow graves,
Bikini babes in thin floss thongs, sun oil basted, lie and fry,
The effluence of sewage farms foams ochre crests upon the waves,
Cheap sunglasses and tinted shades warp vision as the seagulls cry.
Or are they coughing in the choking rise of hotdog onion smoke,
Or searing blast of diesel oil drove upwards from the fairground sprawl,
And do they dive for fish and chips discarded by the glutted folk
Until cholesterol weighs them down and they no longer fly but crawl?
Oh, I did like to be beside the seaside in the golden memories of my youth,
Before the tattooed mobs and greedy slobs and moguls came to town,
And though rose-tinted, real dreams of childhood wonder sing of truth,
But now I’d much prefer it if they torched and burned the whole place down.
Categories:
torched, parody, people, places, sea,
Form:
Verse
It is for sure, not springtime here
Shorter days now how bare His trees.
And looking back draws eyes to tear
For waste and loss of all my greed.
To sail the seas and not return
My ship sinks in the straight of dire.
Its keel has split, its hull to burn,
A spark to start my driftwood fire.
My greed will feed this driftwood fire.
Heap high this waif to be no loss.
No wisdom from my follies liar
Burn high! Oh! Burn you holocaust.
My ship of dreams I build no more
Fragments be hacked my vain desire
To toss like trash and be ignored
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
Self-indulgence fed driftwood fire
Now as to turn from what it seems
Left to me a works of priers
Never to sail my ship of dreams.
I pondered from my window long
Fanning my passion ever higher.
I cursed His name to sing my song,
A blast to stoke this driftwood fire.
Arrogance torched this driftwood fire.
Let my sins perish with my ships.
To right my wrongs I now aspire.
So let them burn without my kiss.
Resurrecting souls dreams have killed
To pull myself from deep quagmire.
And warm my heart which time has chilled.
Remorse now fuels my driftwood fire.
Self-pride will feed my driftwood fire.
These cords of which I gladly burn
Dreams or follies of mud are mire
No loss to me and no concern.
I've heard the sirens song too long
Uncharted seas with sails which tire.
With all my dreams and fancies gone
Let crackling rings my driftwood fire.
Steam hisses from this driftwood fire.
Stream's me toward sweet isles of peace
Bright flash and gleam of my attire
Shall fall in lour of my decease.
For fortuned Isles my eyes have cryed.
My dreams I leave to whom I sire
I'm cremated before I die
Consumed within this driftwood fire.
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire
When in my grave I take my task
Point for my Lord my vain desires
As chilled ember and cooling ash.
Categories:
torched, faith, me, loss, loss,
Form:
Quatrain
III
But, of course, I had no dizzying towers
To burn...only bridges; and they were torched
Years ago in the urgency of my direst hours;
Along with so many mighty battlements sacked,
Countless golden fields scorched...
Afterall -- it was the age of Bronze!
I should have well known that in the flight
Of birds, in each cold dawns pale grey light,
I would eventually come to see the unalterable
Fates of Wilusha's last Imperial Scions:-
Tottering precariously - on the brink -
A world in crisis! Then the elopement...
Did you not once stop to carefully think
It through? Giddied no doubt by bestowment
Of that accursed title; just as if it were the
Same giddying rush
You have experienced from the heady
Potency of a full bodied, Oaked Chardonnay.
The coy performance at being required to strip --
An inner excitement at your self's shamed
Nakedness! The obvious insincerity on display
When receiving an invite to dine at the gaudy
Little bistro; your hot skin noticeably flushed
With the delirium of wine; frequently
Pressed to partake of yet another glass;
There was, he casually said, much to be
Desired in a pleasurable rape. Her audible gasp...
As if, from that roadside window, she was
Suddenly staring out over the idyllic plains
Of mythical Arcadia;
His eloquent assurances artfully calculated
To lend themselves to a distressful behaviour.
Categories:
torched, longing,
Form:
Rhyme
head heavy
in hands
squeezing pounding temples
trapped in a trance
seated in this place
of emptiness and despair
the place that has welcomed
all of my fears and fractures
my heart pounds erratically
my eyes swollen and shot
a hypnotic gaze
into the somber gray
stone tile floor
that I’m sure
is hiding the demons
I have chosen to ignore
the ventilation fan
is loud and deafening
please stop, please stop
for God’s sake!
the churning acid
arouses anxiety in my angry pit
my blurry awakening shameful face
is exposed and shunned
a fading illusion
of my demand
that I’ve had enough
I’m finally done
what does this vicious cycle
have in store
just like yesterdays
just like tomorrows
“bite the hair”
the temptation to escape
always near
addiction is a seductive liar
that manipulates and deceives
not willing to seek restraint
until every sense of self-worth
is destroyed and torched in fire
my mind twists painfully
in a chaotic frenzy
memories that won’t decompose
a persistent clamor
reliving the bowels
of a drained and disappointed past
the blews persist,
unyielding in their grip
a lifetime,
of dark and ugly people
of dark and ugly decisions
mind drifts,
to even darker uglier thoughts
Categories:
torched, life, me,
Form:
Free verse
I weave through blazing flames
Fanning my scorching heart
Spinning sparks attempt to tame
Not even a gram of pain subsides
All that is magical gone - my existence torched
A helium filled heart taunting me
Floating high escaping my grasp
As the smoke clears I see
His embers still burns for another
All that is magical gone - my existence torched
.
Categories:
torched, dream, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
lightning, powerful
blue, quick-silvered, the lands
amber-torched, so quick
August 20, 2020
7pm PST
Remembering Northern California that still burns...
Categories:
torched, imagery, weather,
Form:
Haiku
Hidden, the smoldering fire of rage
sparked, searing the sanctity of my soul
darkened my view of every day
deepened the belief I’d ne’er be whole.
The fire craved release, not reclamation,
for it had torched the innocence of youth
ignited an incendiary need
to torch all those who hid behind lies truth.
And yet the fire purified its gold
although the burnished soul was ne’er the same
for deep within the embers sadly wails
a soul that hadn’t sinned yet bore the shame.
So do not judge its anger without pause
for soul’s are often shaped by evil’s claws.
©12/10/2022
Categories:
torched, anger, sorrow, spiritual,
Form:
Sonnet