Hold me in your heart
where your passion dwells, waiting to be freed
by a romantic wanderer, who'll share his love
worthy of your heart's eloquence of glowing light
that will guide me
as I journey your dreamscape of paradise
intoxicated by your fervent heart
that inflames my fervor
so, I may whisper dreams to you
of long stem roses on the farthest hill
where ardor blooms
watching sunrise on fields of purple asters
inviting our eyes to welcome the glorious glow
of dawn, covered in morning dew
where I'll look upon your beauty
with enthralling eyes of wonder
offering warmth from outstretched arms
yearning to be loved
feeling the breath of emotion
nourished by bewitching fragrances
captivating my spellbound soul
lost in the internal wanderings of love
long forgotten in the landscape of my heart
At first, the purple sunshades hide where dreams cling,
the mind is distracted by how night's feeling,
it drifts along asleep on soft feathered wing.
Now, crimson blood spurts were shapes are annealing,
form re-appears, through razor sharp, edges and seams,
the self slowly stirs, to begin the healing.
Red ochre breaks through, streaming in bright light beams,
piercing the veil, as purpose begins to rise,
shaking the cinders to scatter ash-gray dreams.
Orange inflames the will behind shut eyes,
to rush right in, to show what it held on hold,
sending hot flames aloft, to lighten dark skies.
Yellow crowns the day-break with buttercup gold.
The mind and soul, now awake, can stand up bold!
My soul’s confession knows no ordinary
penance—nor knows, nor feels, another mind
the nebulating sorrows therein maligned—.
I doubt my own can judge the cemetery
of bygone thoughts, dead dreams, and funerary
pathways—twisted in patterns twice entwined
through one and another—lurking behind
my steeple-belled conscience. On the contrary,
sermon is held just out of sight of that
sinister scene. By holy spirits spurred,
and righteous indignations, high exactions,
my preaching psyche’s overzealous word
inflames my anxious system’s charged reactions—
Leave it to the black cat to catch the rat.
Staccato and tart,
blueberries on the Steinway;
Juice inflames the keys.
My dearest child, please hear
You are still underage
The world you do not fear
Its strength you cannot gauge
If fixed to go away
Don’t bring on dreadful shame
That will make it certain
Ever stamped on your name
Life demands a hard climb
As building often does
Can take a long, long time
To overcome what was
Beware of what inflames
That injures, wounds, and maims
Don’t misuse and defame
That precious gift, your name
I will always love you
And listen for your knock
Know the door you left through
Will always be unlocked
Silken whispers greet the blithe morning
damp mist spring tap on red oak door
joyful treat preempted faint dawning
Felicity a phase one can’t ignore
bright daffodil white and pink bloom
fragrant garden bouquet stuff of lore
Alyssum’s plump trailing mound may loom
where greyedging border might seem bare
ideal cluster wraparound March plume
Ever present awe inflames my stare
rampant green aroma gust blown sent
nearby rabbit chuckled in its lair
Ample rose bush color splash in lent
showcase of enduring floral sign
tints and tones that ruffle by assent
Snowdrop bells perennial align
sprout from moistened brown earth
on pebbled wall a green creeping vine
Embrace this heady seasonal birth
marvel at its blue spruce tapestry
exhale your élan vital of mirth
Freedom's song, first amendment's grace,
A symphony of rights we all embrace.
Speech unchained, beliefs untamed,
Press unburdened, grievances proclaimed.
In liberty's embrace, democracy inflames.
Resentment is a negative emotion
that casts aspersion upon others
when perhaps the fault really lies
in the depths of our own being.
Deceiving ourselves is a flaw,
one of our human imperfections,
while expecting too much of others.
Resentment leaves such a bitter taste.
Rancor inflames both heart and soul,
so, keep your ire under control.
A distinctive fragrance that attracts,
captivates with animalistic woody smell.
An intoxicating scent so hard to miss,
mask, the secretion of male deer gland.
A staple base for engaging men’s colognes,
a scent masked by masculine elements,
stimulates the sensual and amorous drive,
many women choose for their men to wear.
An aroma base for the profound perfumes,
smells like the sweating skin, but better,
lasting for oddly long period of longing time,
inflames the craving in intimate hours.
________________
January 21, 2023
Contest : Musk
Sponsored by : Anthony Biaanco
Autumn is the fall from life
Winter is the death of life
Spring the resurrection
Summer is the life
In the auburn autumn there can be not
Denial.
Of passionate reactions
If it were not for the love of lust
What would become of us
Who could exist
What does influence our
Zest for life
What inflames our best of life
How will we be in the rest of life
In the auburn autumn there can be
No race for life left Unrun
No lace in life left unspun
No place no craze no pace
No phase left to live
Auburn autumn has begun
It’s not the beautiful candle that is lit.
It’s the flame of warm light that it gives.
We are the naked and unassuming candle of insignificance.
Until Love inflames our hearts into its magnificent brilliance.
All gather around to ignite their flame of love as it should be.
Soon, all those who partake in this growing flame will be free.
Now, no human construct can imprison our soaring spirit.
We are now one with each other, creating our heaven on earth.
Love is our Law and Love is our bond to all.
All fear in our lives will dissolve and fall.
Gratefulness inflames life's abundance.
The thankful heart portrays God's price.
Written: July 08, 2022
Checked by: howmanysyllabes.com
THANKSGIVING CRYSTALS
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
With pigments of orange and gold,
Autumn inflames my heart and soul.
Yet, I lament Summer's passing;
colored leaves crunching as I stroll.
Cold nights, ink tree-top canopies,
with pigments of orange and gold.
And brisk breezes blow in like thieves,
stealing your breath's warm contrails.
Fall is a seasonal package,
wrapped in multicolored ribbons.
With pigments of orange and gold;
Jack Frost paints the leaves on the trees.
Autumn's like a burst of fireworks:
a color extravaganza!
For Autumn, gilds green foliage;
with pigments of orange and gold.
My day began by watching
As they read the victims’ names,
A somber sad reminder
Of an act that still inflames.
A bell was struck to mark the time
Each tower was attacked
And once again, when each collapsed;
The moment was exact.
Though 20 years have passed, the shock
And sorrow still feel fresh,
Especially for those of us
Who lived it in the flesh.
But time goes on and 4 p.m.
Brought tennis to the screen –
The U.S. Open Women’s match –
The best I’ve ever seen.
The finalists were fierce and kept
On evening the score,
Both desperate for the crown
That neither one had earned before.
The match-up was unusual –
Two teens were on the court,
Infusing such enthusiasm
To this age-old sport.
And so my day began with death -
Still awful in its scope –
But it ended with the future
And the joy of youth and hope.
All Things Matter
(to someone)
Written: by Miracle Man
August 26, 2021
Some believe, they’re given legal dominion,
and refuse to listen to any differing opinion.
When we don’t agree, a racist we’re called,
both parties get upset, and dialogue is stalled.
Some will try to live free inside our head,
fanning an ember until a fire was spread.
We’ll be called things that are known to hurt,
after miserably failing in their effort to convert.
As last resort they have a “cancel” mindset,
and damage reputations then soon regret.
The media reports, and it inflames the masses,
it seems to get worse as each day passes.
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