lingering embers lay smoldering out
fingers searching through ashes
rearranging, but always in doubt
to find all of the matches
re-piece all that matters
the dull glow lingers, hanging around
forcing my hands to shake
scattering remnants, moving about
escaping my baleful gaze
forever til the end of days
the lovely burn, or what so was thought
has drained me of all my ways
forever in flee, but finally caught
shes caught me, and so i'll stay
never to go away
rekindling a fire, set it ablaze
see how long its tongues last
no, not yet, I'm not ashamed
the warnings shall never pass
our love has shaped the glass
let sands pour, sinking in time
extinguishing all the fire
a grain for each second that i'm,
slowly becoming the liar
slowly becoming so tired
and once more the flames have gone
forever to never be anew
the future in the smoke has shown
of eyes so coldly blue
forever without you
Christopher Pitts 12/1/12
extinguishing flames.
advancing persistent threats.
light is everywhere.
death isn’t some grand doorway,
no velvet curtain pulled back
to reveal a fresh, pink-fisted miracle
screaming its way into being.
no—
death is the bar at 2 a.m.,
the bartender wiping the same glass
for the hundredth time,
waiting for you to realize
there’s nothing left to drink
and nowhere left to go.
people talk like it’s a rebirth,
a clean slate, a cosmic joke—
but I’ve seen too many bodies cooling
and too many hearts going quiet
to believe in any of that.
life bursts in like a drunk lover,
slaps you awake,
hands you a good cigarette,
tells you to run or stay
but at least keep breathing.
death is quieter,
a landlord who finally changes the locks.
no warmth.
no promise.
no infant light crawling through the blinds.
just the slow extinguishing
of the last good flame
you managed to keep alive
in this busted, beautiful world.
and maybe that’s enough—
that we burned at all,
that we kicked and cursed
and came into this place screaming,
because death,
for all its cold discipline,
has never known
the wild, impossible promise
of a single live birth.
The crystal perfume bottle still remains,
the one he gifted her so long ago,
upon the dressing table veiling pains
of life’s uncaring, unrelenting blow.
The soft gardenia scent still takes him there
to moments shared when loving seemed complete;
unending nights beneath the stars they’d share,
and every sunrise was a joy to greet.
But then one winter day the angels came
to lead another soul to heaven’s keep;
extinguishing the woman’s earthly flame,
and here, behind, her husband’s left to weep.
So now this crystal perfume bottle’s scent,
a fragrant echo of the life they spent.
September 8, 2025
Our words seethe like fire;
Crackling as we watch them blaze
Into a burning smoke of anger
Till the quiet of midnight cools,
Extinguishing what we had fed.
Bite Size Contest
Let work be like fire
Bright, never extinguishing
Warming to the soul.
In shadows deep, where darkness weaves its thread,
Sin's whispered lure, a path where mortals tread.
Temptation's fruit, a taste of what's denied,
It's here that Satan's cunning plans reside.
With cloven hooves and fiery eyes ablaze,
The fallen one, in wicked ways, conveys,
Deception's art, the master of the lie,
As Sin and Satan dance beneath the sky.
But Death, a specter cold, an endless night,
It waits for souls, extinguishing the light.
A consequence of choices, paths we choose,
In the cycle, Sin and Death, they're bound to fuse.
For Sin, the spark that sets temptation's fire,
Leads mortals down a treacherous desire.
In Satan's web, they find themselves entwined,
As Death awaits, its victory defined.
Yet in this tale of darkness, do not despair,
For hope can rise, dispelling all despair.
Redemption's light can break Sin's binding chain,
And from this trio's grasp, one can attain.
In life's grand tapestry of joy and strife,
We find the strength to face this endless strife.
For Sin, Satan, Death, they may persist,
But love and faith, in our hearts, exist.
There is a sadness that is born from deep knowledge,
like a shadow slipping through the cracks of the soul,
a sadness that whispers the world is not a fairy tale, but a mosaic of fleeting moments,
where dreams unravel like grains of sand between weary fingers.
It is the melancholy of one who understands life is not a triumphant march,
but a succession of ephemeral moments, like the silent murmur of leaves in the wind,
and love, a fragile story, an illusion that dissolves in the morning light,
leaving behind only silence and the echo of a passing memory.
Happiness, that rare spark, a glimmer piercing the darkness for a moment,
but extinguishing quickly, leaving behind an unfulfilled desire, an unfinished dream,
and in this understanding, a deep loneliness grows, an ocean of silence,
a rupture from the world, from others, from your hidden and lost self.
This knowledge transforms us into floating islands,
in a universe of silence, where only thoughts remain as companions,
and in this quiet, a longing is born, a thirst to find something that cannot be found,
a call to the edge of the horizon, where shadows become dreams and dreams become shadows.
I know that life is a continuous fight,
Who can hear a quiet person might?
May today be a celebration for mankind,
I will distribute my poems left and right!
Let my poems flash like lightning slights,
Let it intensify as my inspiration strikes.
My thoughts are deeper than the sea,
I know it will never run out as lights!
I distribute my poems without pain,
Let my poems bring people to gain.
Even seven layers of heaven fit my chest,
What is a poem like a drop of rain?
Let my poems be food for the immortals,
Let it be a star when man seeks true and false.
Let be light which seen from afar,
To the country whose hopes are worse!
Come on!
Come and take fire from me double!
Take double fire and kill up trouble!
Without extinguishing the flame of my poem,
Take a fire on the future tower!
Arguing over time the Poem will fly,
It does not fade like a star in the sky.
Until the last man remains will be alive,
I will leave this world with a goodbye!
Like the wind stroking leaves, causing it falling from the tree.
Like water kissing fire, extinguishing it suddenly.
Like snow touching ground, melting slowly.
Like the moon meeting the sun, covering it completely.
So was your love, poisoning me intentionally.
Trusting blindly, while you consumed my soul cruelly.
My heart surrendering passionately, only to be destroyed fiercely.
My mind embracing loneliness, determining my destiny.
*S.Ü*
We
notice
deception.
It is condoned.
We too once fell down
but then we made amends,
thus so shall this weary soul,
so who are we to pass judgment?
Soul’s presence centred in the void is
vibrant, blissful, nonchalant and tranquil.
Dwelling thus in the time stretched pause, the gap
where intent of heart throbs yet holds back.
Action begins but does not end,
thus extinguishing bondage.
As witness consciousness,
as both form and space,
at each moment
void-centric
soul is
free.
In meditation presence can expand,
encasing the universe within mind,
a fact that signals we should understand,
we best leave imagined beliefs behind.
Consciousness already is, all there is,
which is the reason how we were aware,
that our inner being is all of this,
known if with the vast void we dare to pair.
How can we deny our own existence,
when in direct experience it’s clear,
that extinguishing ego’s resistance,
the light of wisdom begins to appear?
Discover oh hermit, our true essence ~
We’re living light: bliss is our quintessence
Waking up before the sun kisses
Chirping of birds becomes brushed aside
Putting glasses to see better
With unpolished shoes I ride over
With an old beg of mine
Keeping some old books inside
The rusted passage let me in
I walk through a road edged with topiary
as if golden hedges welcome me
The old corridor embraces my stomping footsteps
Holding a chalk to create and defend
I march into battle ground cum temple of knowledge
Keeping all agonies behind the doorway
A warrior devotes to serve the future
An oath to fire up extinguishing lamps
And to nourish the saplings till they grow
Time rushes with greying hairs and vivid memories
But the grown up trees reminds me to keep going
black boy
A black boy in Chicago, barely twelve years old, reached into his pocket, seeking money’s hold. But a white cop’s bullets found their deadly aim: Six shots to the head, extinguishing life’s flame.
His grieving mother wails, her heart torn apart, Yet the cop escapes justice, a cruel, callous part. We cry out for change, an end to this strife, To stop the rot of injustice and reclaim a fair life.
May God bless you, Robert Sherriff, in your quest to illuminate the truth and fight for what is best.
tears and fears
fill moonless nights
their pooled regrets
not washed away
nostalgic longings
in hindsight of the shell
of what might have
could have been
persistent clouds
hover heavy dark
creeping smothering
extinguishing all light
hurtful lashings
of idle tongues
whipping thrashing
leave their scars
sum total
the days the nights
unfurl their drama
wind up marooned
on the beach of life
AP: 2nd place 2024
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