We fall Hard and steady
Down dimensions unknown
Down, each turn and drop
We turn and tremble, teeming with tingling terrors
Nightmares fuel
Combust and flare outwards until nothing can contain it
We fall
We tumble, down further
Banging, bashing, crashing into oblivion
We tornado outwards, from within
Our hearts break and bend, and release their burdens
They blow like bombs
Our minds burst, and burn like supernovas
Enveloping all that is, and will ever be with blinding light
Eyes scorched and hearts immolated
We climb, turn and tumble
Bumble like buffoons
We soar ever higher, becoming ever lighter
We fly like jet fighters
Higher and higher still
Above the atmosphere
Float… suspended in stillness
Until we blossom and spread like wildfire
Flowering, showering, we sow our stardust seeds
We turn, stumble, and reach
We fall, like meteors, into each other’s orbit
Until collapse
As cotton clouds fade under blank blackness,
I sigh as stars stare at my moon.
My breathless quill feels no pulse, but it beats,
unable to find admiration for an empty page.
I bleed tears. I've not yet cried like wailing walls,
through expressions with silent connotations,
where my life resembles personified poetry.
But, not all verses are expressed effortlessly,
as my muse's heart is misplaced in mahogany mist.
Once, I used to sprinkle magic over dead roses,
but my chiseled charm is now at war with words,
wandering among weeds in my withering flower garden.
Vinegary rain with sour snow has immolated my vocabulary's flaming blooms,
as memorable metaphors abandon me.
Pierced from thorns worn from a crown of sonnets,
I fear myself when my rhymes feel like childish crimes.
Now I cry without tears, a lifeless poet,
lost in a paradise of vivid imagery,
but powerless to write verses with substance,
so I let my words rest in peace - deceased.
No one is here
In this office room
Without me to feel you lonely
To you and your naive movement
I'm immolated just; I look at your simplicity
And fall in your love
Table, chair, computer, tube-light
Calling bell, daily attendance- nothing is
in my sense of dream but you
In your unadorned face
I find my easy life, the rhyme of the poem
the rhythm of a living song, the current of breaths
No eye can contact you directly
But your wandering whispers to my heart
Where the bell of love rings as
I love you, O Irik
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
28/05/2023
When you wish upon a star,
you’ve immolated, chances are.
Better wish upon the moon;
at least they’ll find your body soon.
But if you wish on Terry’s loo,
then all your dreams may turn to poo.
H/T to Terry Flood's Mission Impassible
Moonbeams slide
Control the tide
Guide Oceans apart
Eco collapsing background
A shooting star for true dreams
Never has life been so zombie-like
You are your own addict
A mutant destiny
Ocean’s apart odd people aside
Muck with her smile and ill muck with your day
Like and Love pajamas gloves
I love my woman
She has a set of kick ass legs
She has control over the saints of weakness
I love my woman
Nothing can wait ineluctable saint
Ocean’s apart odd people aside
Muck with her smile and ill muck with your day
Moonbeams slide
Control the tide
Ocean’s apart, odd people aside
An ECO-collapsing background
The only immolated truth
Moonbeams slide
Control the tide
Guide Oceans apart
Eco collapsing background
A shooting star for true dreams
Never has life been so zombie-like
You are your own addict
A mutant destiny
Ocean’s apart odd people aside mess
with her smile and ill mess with your day
Like and Love pajamas gloves
I love my woman
She has a great set of legs
She has control over the saints of weakness
I love my woman
Nothing can wait ineluctable saint
Ocean’s apart odd people aside
Mess with her smile and ill mess with your day
Moonbeams slide
Control the tide
Ocean’s apart, odd people aside
An ECO-collapsing background
The only immolated truth
they slipped with the lobotomy
red-hot poker in the eye
electrocution grilled her mind
bonfire of insanity
a straight jacket squeezed the last drop of lucidity
but she would not see the light of the day
leeches drank happily in search of blood
swollen and fed up they spilled their prey on her skin
her sugar addiction succumbed to insulin coma
almost ate up the last crumb of resolve
the final straw came when they exorcised her
and satanic verses stirred devilish crosses
to the tune of hymns psalms and insurrection
of flesh body soul and lost Self
she borrowed a lighter and burnt a candle
immolated demons and ghosts of the past
saw luminescence and freedom
set arson to hellish oppression
burnt down the asylum
and decided to be her own crazy warden
25th March 2021
A Meaningful Poem Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
I had a dream to dissolve my body
Into harmony and song.
Not to be appraised course or consequence,
But the ecstasy for which I long.
I’d seen sparks pique, however, now they taunt
Ere each breath, each glare guts me.
I’ve been left to wonder, will passion pass,
Or will destiny cage the free?
Physical facades that guzzled my breath—
I loathed am’rous transactions—
Abandoned me gasping, grasping for air.
Throttled, I lay in satisfaction.
For today I gazed on as swarms of flies
Amassed stale, dead to the floor
Induced, I grin, inhale seriatim
Plaguing every lung, every pore.
For salt and terror could never hatch wood,
And doors are never undone.
Time festered and birthed a derisive spring
Which befell the immolated sun.
When the repellant acid rain came,
the silica image gloomed darkly
into sobbing disintegration
Embers of flickering hope
smouldered deep in the heart of despair
Passion dying to be re-ignited,
only sparked
a saline immolated tearful incineration
Distance was a skeleton key,
overcoming temporal relativity
was a spatial mistake
Stretch marks of lost time ...
candles snuffed
on the anniversary cake
Emotional composure
had an elasticity expiration due date
Hardening of the arteries —
love can’t flow in a vacuum
Premature, incubated promises
won’t grow in a dark room
Umbilical desires
got an ultrasound hole cut in the chest
Covers unturned ...
pillow sighs smothered a feeble breath
Bosom reasons for embracing neglect
is a mirage yearning
Borrowed time is an unrequited debt,
paid by the spurning
When the Venus rains came,
the mirror image burned brightly ...
then disappeared, ever so slowly
Death of an icy love affair,
dissolved
in glacial, decomposed fashion —
As misty, crypt wails
ascend in the deserted air
It was the most unnatural fire
rising from the ancient pit of souls
It ascended from the deepest abyss
Flickering images of unspeakable woes
To say it was not of this world
would be an outrageous understated call
Dante himself could not have imagined
the horrific scenes burned into the ashen walls
A black flame undulating,
an unearthly fire possessing no heat
Black flames rhythmically moving,
consuming souls who immolated willingly
It beckons you to come closer,
even closer to it's pitch black hue
It wants to taste your mortality,
it wants to burn all the life inside of you
You don't want to witness
the dance of the black flame
You don't want to hear the wails
from the bottomless depths where they came
Its origin is unknown,
its makers have since long gone
What was the purpose, you'll never know
because the black flames are getting to close
Get back to your spaceship,
flee and don't ever return
Destroy all the recorded images;
or you will spread the black flame,
unleashing it from its cosmic urn
I used to live in France, near the Champagne region.
My favorite Notre Dame cathedral is not the one in Paris;
Rather it is Notre Dame de Rheims.
After many battles, Jeanne D'Arc helped the Dauphin Charles
Be crowned the king of France there.
There are many statues in France of Jeanne D'Arc.
Most of them show her riding a horse with sword held high.
I've see that image in many Places in the north.
My favorite statue of her is in Notre Dame de Rheims.
She looks to be standing a vigil in her armor
With her battle flag posted behind her.
I've also been to Place Jeanne D'Arc in the city of Rouen,
Where the British tormented, interrogated, and immolated her.
It didn't look like a sad place, but I felt sad there for her.
I don't know if she really heard angelic voices,
But her story always inspired me--
Probably the only non-Biblical saint that ever did.
Tibetans,
Burning,
The flames everywhere.
One, two, three.......
Already self-immolated,23.
How many sparks will be?
Hundreds or thousands,
Maybe even more....
Gunfire,
Tibetans shot down,
One after another.
Now
Twelve Tibetans lie down in the blood,
Their bodies wrenched away
Never back.
Caught
To the jail.
An eagle snatching a sparrow.
Never to be seen again
Or seen crippled
Handicapped, an invalid.
Tibetans
In invisible manacles,
Surrounded by a metre wall.
Even for one step, bound.
Tibetans,
Unseen and unheard by
The world.
The pain
Only Tibetans can feel.
The words
Only Tibetans can hear.
The blood
Only Tibetans can see.
Because
It happens underground,
Where the world
Does not look.
New Years began this year
Amid global poisoning
Gertrudes’s skirt began to burn
At the edges
Sirens blared, and some attempt
At presidential communication
Seemed comical
Leaping to my sister from being
Immolated....... prevented the President's
Message connecting
I may seem slow at this verse
The end trends to drift slow
The end trends
To drift slow
11/08/11
Oh! vagrant life, your motive unknown,
for what do you acknowledge me?
and why am i a pawn?
why fix un-broken entity's?
why lead to deep desire?
and overpowering uncertainty
through all vanity, yet to be..'
immolated in eternity's fire.."
I rode a rocket past the moon,
I walked the face of Mars,
And when I tired of the Milky Way,
I took off for the stars:
Alpha Centuari -- Sirius--
Then on, through Galaxies
I rode my spaceship everywhere
--but only in my dreams.
For it was a world of atom bombs,
The Missile Crisis--the Berlin Wall--
Of immolated Buddhist monks
Who protested freedom's fall--
It was a world where spyplanes flew
Across uncharted skies,
and where, because of fear, we grew
to believe convenient lies.
"Not because it's easy,
but because it's hard," I heard --
John Kennedy sent the challenge out
-- and we acted on his word:
we built the world's best spaceship
with more than steel its frame,
not alone by mere technology
but fueled by an Eternal Flame
That illumined our dark tomorrows
and could not be forgot:
we built our spaceship with the blood
of the King of Camelot.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.