Cinder Poems - Poems about Cinder

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...

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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...

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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, on the convivial canvas cascade ripples of emotion. The patina of enticement flushes your luring lips, quivering with the cadence of the drenching dew, graze on the glowing meadow of my fervent face, at the acme...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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....

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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...

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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...

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