Faint sparks of fire
Rising desire
A fragile secret
Burns ever higher
I aim and shoot for the sun
Blind me, I come undone
I feel the heat beneath my skin
Your iridescent soul within
Meets mine
Like a heatwave in December,
You're the flame from the ember
You're what I remember
When you go down
You stay close to me
bright glowing embers danced softly floating back down to the ravaged land
Crimson leaves whisper—
Rain softens the fire’s warm glow...
Autumn holds my book.
BETWEEN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
autumn's breath
slips between
ember
and
ice
For there’s much more to remember.
perhaps the walk that still embers.
The distinct message at the first sight.
and pin bent at the other end of the road.
Waited for the travellers to haunt at night.
when the moon with a smiley face to bright.
A stroll to remember where one walked,
with hands and hands together at ride.
The longest ride with no where to strife .
The pages had a crack of fork.
The sweetest song played once at night .
Today no longer serves the lost pride.
There is an unread scribblings,
at the frame on front hall.
The dried flowers on the wall lay,
there hung by their choice.
The spiders web too written its sign.
The haunted one by the choice.
GEETHA JAYAKUMAR. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Looking at her is like
a grainy old romance
warped in a bathroom mirror—
time distorts in her footsteps.
She’s always smiling,
even when tears circle in her eyes.
Only on certain nights will she
pull off the mask
and fracture in hush, splintering inward.
She speaks little—
perhaps the quietest soul I’ve known.
Her days revolve around his breath,
his smile her only pastime.
Being loved by her
is like being held by fire—
the scorching hug will
drain oxygen from lungs,
but only because
going all in is her only form of love.
I envy the one she loves, but I am
not, no. I am her—
the ember of romantics,
too charred to be remembered.
Written: June 8, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Joseph May
Checked by HMS.COM
*****************
An elephant roamed with great might,
Its footsteps would shake day and night.
Yet time took its toll,
Turned flesh into coal,
Now, fuel a world bathed in light.
I wait
for hazy clouds to soften noon—
The world dims
as shadows
drag out hues.
Burnt cement stops sizzling,
sparrows quiet their off-beat chatter,
my sore eyes shut in relief—
a final note,
the muted outro—
Until the clouds scatter.
The familiar heat shatters
breezes into embers
filtered through a stinging azure.
So I sit back and
wait.
In stasis, with the cluttered city,
for silence to fall
again—
Maybe the clouds had a point.
“It’s a wonderful life,”
They sang, in godly choir chorus.
I look at the calendar—
Another week in ember,
and no time for theatre.
My gaze drifts down the road—
A plastic bag lifts
off the old brick pavement.
It c s
o l
i
in the air
just enough
to dodge the screeching tires.
I watched for so long
I missed my class.
Such a silly reason,
but on my note I wrote:
I was late,
because a plastic bag was doing ballet—
and someone had to see it.
My hasty steps echo
on the cracked stone tile,
before the bus door hisses
shut—Late again.
"It's a wonderful life," the clouds sing in chorus.
Their church choir harmony almost offensive,
if I didn't know,
they truly believe
life is lullabies and steaming apple tea.
Swear-soaked hair clings to my neck.
I call these ember days:
when smoldering urban air chokes—
Yet the clouds drift,
marshmallow white—
Like porcelain swans on azure water.
I watch the bus hustle
away, breath too ragged
to properly curse.
The clouds grin,
like they're genuinely satisfied—
—just being.
Wouldn't that be something.
How did the sea become a crime?
How did its blue become a bruise on the face of history?
How did the verdure turn into red wrath,
breathing fire into burned hearts,
leaving behind it a black, frosty funeral?
How did the tree become a Fury?
Her strands of fire
strewn above the dew and tranquil mounts
Furious fire and melted iron
Lava and blood-red ink
Pumping out of the wounded bosom of the earth
Bubbling up like the foam of death
To carve an unprecedented story;
A story of a dying profound pain, reborn
In the same womb, at the same moment
Growing as rapidly as the pulsating heart of a child in terror
Lost in the land of infinite wars.
***
My land, a flickering ember
Once giving light and warmth;
The other, singeing our hearts;
Do you choose to be a beacon in the dark,
or to blow up in our faces like a blind flame of wrath?
Are you destined to turn into ash
disarrayed by the wind?
***
People might claim that the earth is not for all
But the heavens are inevitably for all
The living, the dead, the imprisoned
Happy, grieving, immersed in prayer,
For the heavens are in the hands of God the just
Never to be touched by human slaves
Written: March 14, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
*****************
After the rain, the air smells musty and moist,
and smoke swirls clumsily upward from chimneys,
as they float away, the leaves crackle and rattle.
Mulled wine soothes the spirit on cold nights,
our eyes feast on the blazing fire as the sun sets.
The Eternal Ember
Decades are passed, an embrew slices Earth's chest
And countless Energy invests
It blooms
Bamboozles doom:
Decades past
In search of and at last
Pause and steadfast like mast,
It is swaying and living
It's breath giving
Spreading light and delight
Catches might and cashes bright
Twitter positivity in melancholy
Singing joy and cherishing cheerfully
Saying goodbye to pessimism
She is the flame of optimism
Guarding like boundary wall
A spirit stands by at her side
It covers her and clicks in her glide
And in thick and thin, it stands tall
Decades pass
A flame flames
Light in thick darkness
It lits and brightens chaos.
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