Long Afire Poems
Long Afire Poems. Below are the most popular long Afire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Afire poems by poem length and keyword.
As two, hearts dance the embrace of a fire,
plucking your heartstings as a lyre
Distrust, lies, eclipses love's satellite true- natal
loon, into a suicide hot air balloon ride!
Moves aside bend of light, chooses,
side, of a dark malignant side of moon !
In the twilight hour blues,
where passions softly stir,
emotions start to blur, turn sour,
painting pleasure in the night maw to devour two
In the depths of the night, a solitary light wound
casts a shadows upon the heart,
where darkness slowly seeps through
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desire,
a symphony of emotions that sets souls afire
Strings of anticipation strum
in rhythmic delight tuned to
caressing secrets, where fantasies abide, nude
Signs, who, hides moons of the truest kind!
O a tale apart
Moves side winds, breath of the dark arts,
to align into hearts maligned
arms folded in death to make with
as a stolen kiss ignites a flame,
like a symphony, our hearts fall prey to again
be betwixt in the game
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desires,
hollows,
a symphony of emotions that sets
souls adrift from the shallows
In passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide their gallows
from the ghouls that preside in it's marrow
In a tale ripped apart...
every 'plete of your heart
Strings of anticipation strum in
rhythmic delight tune
turns to the knife of sacrificial rite
In the twilight raimant so blue, where passions fly,
the jolly roger of motley fools,
selling the fine line
sailing the live mines
Embracing the darkness' essence,
a tale yet for reason
harmonies of ecstasy reaching
a breathtaking peak of reasoning
Oh, the cadence of desire, intoxicating and divine,
as crescendos rise and fall, our spirits intertwine
a symphony of emotions, wild and misconstrued,
leaving souls aflame, forever marked,
for death do you sever
apart partaking your
passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide to
desires lever toggle with every touch, new,
every sight of slight or bruise
Urban decay of a dream,
dream theater of a tragedy
playing looped scene
In the Twilight raimant so blue
With every beat of your heart
Moves side winds, choose, sides,
with a dark maligned tune
Chapter..........1..........Part..........2..........3b.
The mounted riders,
they speed forwards,
Turvehr did kick with heaven's power,
his mighty horn tearing and rending,
His eyes,
afire with hates desire,
his coat,
it did shine like the raven's wing,
when kissed by Sol.
He was the destroyer of the evil fire,
to rend,
this was his work this day,
his heart a living flame,
pure hatred was his song,
to kick, toss and tear,
this would be his killing way.
Turvehr was a terror,
a light destroying the dark,
his horn now caked in bloody gore,
hatred ruled the battlefield this day,
great indeed was his majesty,
the glory of a darkened dawn.
Women watching,
cried out with fear,
when e'er an enemy came to near,
for love indeed, this day was born,
for Turvehr,
the king of the Unicorn.
Alahsar still had her gates,
mortal men,
their lives, they did lay down,
numbers falling,
Demons they did crawl,
The end of humanity? Dark hearts filled with hate.
From the gates a mighty moving,
womanhood coming forth with great haste,
Hate-filled eyes and voices of venom,
yelling out thunder as they come forth.
Now, into two groups,
these shield maidens do split,
one group heads for the Dunlaven bridge,
the other group, the fight on Badicha,
still, the foe seemed many more.
the Arlaghs ever to the fore,
a mighty foe begins to push,
the might of dark within each beast,
to hold this foe,
it would take mighty strength,
yet, strength was failing,
the Arlaghs, then, did mighty push.
Then to human dismay,
upon the left flank,
spiders, wolfs and their riders attack,
from the trees they come,
Arlaghs, they also come with this attack,
the cavalry on the left flank,
they are taken by complete surprise,
horses scream in fear as they begin to fall.
riders also crying out, as they die this day,
some shall lie on the bloody plain,
others within the bellies of flesh-eating enemies,
on seeing this, the women warriors hurry forth,
no order had the golden king given,
they had come,
against all orders.
Still, humans stand,
much blood does flow,
man and woman,
power did show,
children watching from on high,
as parents and friends slowly die,
Dark man fighting, vengeance dead,
the Tigress, she is spreading fear,
a bloody day for one and all,
"Blood For Blood," the mortal call.
To Be Continued.
Dragon Slayer! Dragon Slayer! Just say it isn’t so! Just Look at that cutesy face!
Behind the scary teeth, fire, and smoke… Choke…Ah… he’s gentle to embrace!
Moody, sulky, get even-ish, is truly he. But to have him, is so cool… and so hot!
And, I truly do mean Hot! Fire retardant suit’s a must, as there’s fire… often, a lot!
He’s just a baby, waiting to be taught. I tried to teach him, how to fly me thru the air.
Instead, he dumped me in a treetop, it took all day to get down, until I despaired.
To help me down, he lit the tree afire, as his wings errantly fanned the roaring flames.
I jumped, and he smiled a toothy grin, because I was safe, he steadfastly claims.
I’m on crutches, nearly bent his tail. But he loves me, you can tell, see he puffs at me!
Grandpa Troll gives us time out, when there’s a tiff, as my dragon, is petulant, you see.
At times, he sits across the lake from me, blowing fire and smoke ¾ across the lake.
He’s such a sensitive thing, he took my couch to the lake, upon sitting, it did break.
I got upset and called him fat…he tried to steam me, as fire is such, a No- No.
For, he had learned to not throw fire… at least when Grandpa Troll is, there, tho…
He needs to be first, the center of attention, seen in his cunning life’s plots, galore!
He taught my Trolls a happy dance, while waiting their first boat ride. Silly Dragon!
They sunk my boat! It's believed, he was getting even for being last in line, you think?
And he stomped off, perturbed, when told no more rides until the boat is unsink-ed.
He’d been last, for breaking my roof for another (fourth) time, but it will soon be fixed.
You see, he gets lonely, while waiting for me, to come outside to play, the little minx!
He CAN be hard on insurance, as I got cancelled and my bills are higher than a kite!
And when the Supreme Leader of the Universe, came to our picnic on a motorbike…
Dragon, accidentally, released his Dogs of War, while sitting on his Harley Bike.
Honestly, the flat tires can be fixed, the body unbent, and the spokes were given back.
I explained they weren’t HIS toothpicks… he truly looked sad as sad can be, at that.
Never fear, we caught the Dogs of War before they had time to… do great harm.
You can just imagine how great this dragon will eventually be, when all grown up.
Dragon Slayer, indeed! Grandpa Troll gave him to me. He’s sweet as sweet can be!
(Continued from part one.)
Afire not his thoughts, the Devil sees,
He soars and roars, in his physical might.
His bears’ hug, his warmth, could melt you;
Into joys and tears, in willing submission.
Treat him not, to your portions of love.
He grows cold, is lost in erotic rage.
Wiggle not mermaid, in bouts of passion,
The dough you kneed, may turn love to hate.
Dare not the wile witches’ craft;
Lest he banish you to the earth’s folds,
To burn in hate, love and desire,
Forever and ever, in eternal penance.
Spurn not his love for the unknown,
With frivolous, eyewash camouflage.
He watches behind the scenes,
Your tremors in the curves and the lips;
You innocent, blooming seductress,
Holding the Mega-staff, letting reptiles sing:
You bore the man, the crowned lord of vice.
Rip him, Independence, to his natural doom.
Haven’t you learnt, you Hollywood menace?
Ever seen Javed Jaffery the Tellywood, Bollywood
Lollywood and Mollywood a few dozen like you?
Tent walk dove-eyed, bumps to the moon.
Kanjiwaram, the Casanova Frenchie,
Break dance in airs to the Eiffel Tower.
Red herring you to the Spanish bulls.
Joy ride Rolls on BMW’s track.
Con the Germans and the Japs.
You, wonder android, generations ahead.
(Forget the Merc-E, TELCO ties,
Or their Sumo-ing the Japanese pride.)
Take care you fool, Govinda could snare,
Rap tap the Seghal to his toe’s.
Golden Eye the double O’s latest dream.
Kung-fu Steven’s at his own game.
Anti-gravity NASA, with mental fields.
Stealth fly you out, from the Pentagon.
Biotech you back into American laps,
Genetically engineered, Gene cultured, wreck.
Brain-virus Microsoft, in config-trees,
Space walk you to the final frontiers in enterprise.
Dance away the foxes of your clan.
Ultra culture, the real London breed.
In knacks of, how to wink and blink.
Lifting eyebrows? Take care you oaf,
Run you goat! and don’t turn your head.
He is the cool cat, really looking his English best.
Flee, before the gambler, he is still there,
Smirnoff you to the Hustler`s care.
Toss you around, under Playboy’s thumb.
Floor you with his catwalk fun.
Cradle you, to the American roost;
Chickening out, not now KFC hen.
He is “She selling sea shells on the sea shore.”
In wizard glee, those Colgate teeth his real hope.
(To be continues in part three.)
...The devil didn’t hide, he strutted right out,
a smile painted on his red face.
“Why my dear sheriff, how in the world
Did you ever find my new place?”
Abner stared on, seething with hate.
“An old friend told me to find you here,”
He explained, glancing up to the sky.
“You know why I’m here, you son-of-a-*****.
You made those poor people die.
And now has come your time!”
The devil he laughed, and shook his head.
“You think that Colt will take me down?
I’m a damned archangel, and well beyond
The people of this backwater town.
Now behave, and toss that on the ground.”
Abner lifted his arm, taking careful aim
at the devil’s broad, muscled, red chest.
The devil just sighed, and started forwards
“You should not put me to the test,”
The devil did smugly confess.
Abner squeezed back on the trigger,
And a shot rang out in the night.
The devil lurched backwards, screaming loud,
his hellish face a mask of fright.
He looked down, shocked at the sight.
A hole their awaited, the flesh dissolving
around where the bullet had hit.
He gasped and looked up at Abner,
saying,”No! No, I don’t believe it!”
Abner just smiled, then on him spit.
“Pride, its goes before a fall,
that you of all folks should know!
I talked to your Pa, and He answered true,
and showed me the best way to go
about laying your carcass low.”
“See into each bullet I carved a cross,
and in holy water I dipped the tips
Then old Priest Frazier blessed each one
Blessed my gun, and then gave lip
to the Big Guy to watch over my trip.”
The devil shrank back, eyes afire,
struggling to say on his feet.
Abner he fired five more times,
what the devil sowed he then reaped,
and fell to the ground in defeat.
His body dissolved into the snow,
His soul went screaming back to Hell.
Abner breathed a sigh, holstered the gun,
and stood their quiet for a spell.
They he walked out, heading down the hill.
Now some folks say the crash of ninety-three
was what drove folks from Aspen’s mines,
And ushered in the beginning
of the town’s long and sleepy times.
But the real story you will find
Is that the dark one roamed and destroyed
until an old cowboy took him apart,
And for decades to come he raged in Hell
about Abner Gidden, that damned upstart
who dared shoot the devil in the heart!
Madness exuded like the
war cries of epic battles
and sagas' past,
the myth of man and
the passionate woman.
As the eruption
began to procure its
preparations, Prince Alarumdives,
a moment with the King,
solace, questioning divinity.
"My father, what troubles
plague us? The trumpets
do sound, do us not, impede
decision, for moment's wisdom,
pray we gather and bring
forth a judgement non-grievous."
"Alarumdives, Alarumdives. . .
why we struggle; and endure,
our precious privy, our passion,
our victorious role, a
maddening hysteria,
turmoil, envy? Malice?
These perilous endeavors
that this kingdom, rightly
now, yours and mine,
forevermore, must uphold,
boldly, righteously, justice
and its decree."
"Father, this constance,
unhappy we, if respect
is compromised, be it for
balance, ignorance I
plead, for precious love,
my Geinere. . . ."
"Alarumdives, your wisdom
exceeds you, a gentle
harmony passed. Be it
sincere, your declarations
to cherish, this unition
of marriage, not as
virtue, for loves' royal
to the commons, not.
Can'st be, your labors,
this battle staging as
war closely approaches,
a test, shall worthy
proven, joy then."
"My father, this Luciferus
impediment, a call to
arms, due parry peasant
royalty. A falling star,
my mercies upon, this
calling of crusade, of
scarlet tides of Eden's
embrace, goodness surely
redeemed. As graceful knight,
I embark, these ardors
of dire tragedies, kingdoms
indifferent, be it of ill-virtue,
of ill-decree? May the spirits
that beckon bring forth
victory."
"Alarumdives, much needful
preparation, call'st to
arms, for the galleys
of this kingdom bulging
with cannon. I am to
the balcon to esquire,
gather, hence I salute."
"The masterful sounding of
the ram's horn, a call
to bravery!"
The hills of high, there
did stand, a large
platoon, the flags of
Scotland, a summoning
to port Wales. Torches
afire, blazening with
the perils of passion
and vixen angelic.
Viewing from afar, a
messenger apart, battle
today, no question.
As both tides
prepared for climax,
the gallians, sure
mighty, though as
the Gods did pray,
only a taste, hints
of nothing more.
The horns did exude,
and battle, that
erupted, was as
the raging winds
of Tyr. . . .
Basketball Blues
Here I am trying to string some coherent thoughts into a prose in writing…
When there is this sudden continuous thumping noise behind where I am seating…
Oh no! That can only mean one thing, my little girl is into her basketball dribbling...
In this limited space of the living room, her boundless energy needs venting…
Ever since the local junior basketball competition has started, I wish we live on the moon…
When the whim strikes, it’s Michael Jordan incessant dribbling about in the living room…
Only the emptiness of space around the moon can silence the sounds of these staccato booms…
NASA or whatever relevant space agency, book me quickly, if possible, beam me to the moon..
Yeah, I know better, our cajolings and pleas for quiet in this living room is a waste of saliva…
This feminine version of Michael Jordan in my living room is in one of her breakaways runs afire…
Look out! Control that ball, you almost bump poor Nemo in his cute fish bowl off that table…
Where’s your mother, what do I have to do to get a little peace in this time of the day altogether…
Little girl, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to finish this little poem of mine to post on-line…
I have my readers and fans, they’re just like yours, hoping to see the best I can offer each time…
Yeah I know, your fans and supporters, they are cheering you on too, I see the picture…
But little angel of mine, please put away that blasted ball , how about something else to consider …
Let me finish up this shortened prose, post it up online and then I will bother you no longer…
After that, it would be better that I quickly retire to the master bedroom, silence there is pre ordered…
Tell me again, when is your last game, for all this thumping through the week is giving me heartburns…
Do you have to bounce that ball indoors, that noisy din will one fine day bring on angry neighbours…
Better you do something not so noisy, say, clean Nemo’s tank - it looks rather dirty to me….
What? You’ve clean it twice already in this week, are you very sure of that? How about money?..
Would you like to have some change and maybe you can grab a soda outside, it is one fine weather..
Fervently I dare hope, my little Michael Jordan, do go and pick up your many dolls, where’s Barbie..?
Out of all of us my best friend
Came to an inglorious, untimely ugly end
We were digging holes inside a cave
But what he didn’t know was that he was digging his own grave
When it was finally time to go to bed
He turned around and a Nazi shot him in the head
He fell into the hole he had just dug
And the Nazi covered him up with an old dirty rug
They poured gasoline on him and set him afire
That was to become my friends funeral pyre
We were made to stand there and watch him burn
And the Nazi said, "This is your lesson to learn”
That night we all went to bed
Full of sadness, fear and dread
What happened that night really gave us a fright
Nothing was ever going to be alright
At night I see the ghosts of the lost
During the day I see the price that it cost
The Nazis have no religion or conscience
They only believe in killing and science
Later that day, a Nazi came with something he made
It was a very awful ugly lamp shade
On one side of the shade was something I knew
It was one of my dead friend’s tattoos!
Of the unfortunate unlucky dead
The Nazis were shrinking heads!
And they were making all kinds of things
Out of the prisoners, their gold teeth and rings
One night so cold I was watching my frozen breath
The Nazis came and took me away to see Dr. Death
He said he was going to give me a shot and it would do no harm
He rolled up my sleeve and stuck a needle in my arm
That was after Christmas in 1944 late December
And from that moment on nothing I remember
An American soldier told me that when he found me
I was walking around the prison yard like a lifeless zombie
Now it’s early May 1945
And somehow I am still alive
It’s amazing that I am not insane
The last survivor of the last train
To understand the holocaust
You must understand all it cost
In this camp it cost the lives of over a million
Of innocent men, women and children
Now we speak of all the lives lost
In the past tense
It all really comes down to the cost
Of all the dead and the presence of absence
Against all of humanity there leaves a void
A hideous heinous crime
So many promising lives destroyed
In one short period of time
Lives that were vital and present
All became past tense
And we can still feel and resent
Their absence of presence
"Before The Gates Of Alahsar,"
By,
Michael .P. Clarke.
Full Version.
Bardic style.
Chapter..........1..........Part..........1..........1.
Come now, my Lords and Ladies,
listen now to the tale I shall tell,
the ancient tale of the dreamland,
of Alahsar, I lay before you.
look now within your mind's eye,
look on the golden gates to peaceful shrine,
they stand in wonder,
before a city of joy and peace,
a most ancient jewel.
I, your Bard, stand before you,
my words, I am ready to sing,
my beating heart of truth,
it shall beat the tales cadence,
as my words, I do speak.
Oh, Alahsar, your dream forever sung,
I lay it forth, following ancient texts,
come now, my Lords and Ladies,
listen to the tale my heart shall tell.
Never, had there been dark, in Alahsar's jewelled kingdom,
the sky afire, with a golden glow, in a night of lightened twilight,
all night, this sun would lie low in the sky, a golden glory,
this light of love, ever touching the beating heart of Alahsar.
The sun did sparkle off golden pinnacles and minarets bejewelled,
the sun, kissed gold so gently, and golden light did live,
my Lords and Ladies, such a dazzling display of light effects,
forth did come the rainbows of dream's desire.
Upward, ran the virgin white, stone dwellings, of the city,
they did tower to such heights, they reached for the heart of Heaven,
open your minds to the vision, look upward, upward, ever upward,
atop the great city, a golden palace, how that glory did shine.
This was a golden beacon to all, that Alahsar did live,
the city of dream, in its golden coat, arrayed, it did sing dream's song,
from the golden gates below to the golden palace atop, peace and joy did reign,
Alahsar, sing dreams song in majesty.
On the first level, the dwellings of Alahsar's mighty armies,
of the most sumptuous furnishings, they were arrayed,
seem within your minds, soldiers dressed in such regal splendour,
those on duty, they walk proudly. from dwellings to the mighty parapet walls.
They all know nights of passion, in rooms of silken beauty,
primal passion, emitting sighs and screams into the night
communal wash areas were to the rear of these dwellings,
they were behind high walls, built into the rock itself.
To Be Continued...........
Ballet of Death
As trumpets prepare emotions
This sordid art knows well
My hooves stomp impatiently
Raising clouds of dust
Enshrouding my entrance
With shouts and whistles
A crowd's tense moments
Engulf this gladiator's arena
Demanding courage and blood
Far away
The grassy hills
Of his Ganaderias estate
Stands my sire
Now out to pasture
Erect and proud
Amidst sadness retirement brings
Once close to arena fame
Determined better as stud
He raises his head
The air has changed
He knows the scent of fear
The distance it can travel
He scrapes the ground
The matador awaits the pageantry
I shoulder my pen bars
Holding back muscled power
Energy primed for destruction
My challenger readies his cape
I squint at the sun through dusty air
A beast's freedom that might have been
Were not this
My first time
Most likely
My last time
Such brutal grandeur awaits
Stage one Banderilleros
Astride proud mounts
Parading to applause
Preparing to tempt my will
Their colorful presence
To test my vision
The picadors await stage two
Armed with lance
Saddled atop padded and blindfolded steeds
Ready to break my will
What will their first piercing feel like?
Will my neck be numb for the rest
Or will it but set afire my zeal to live?
Banderilleros anticipate stage three
Their barbed banderillas
Flag-like with colored local papers
Held ready to weaken my neck further
My loins tremble with hope
Knowing my destiny is to charge
Expend my energy
Then... trample my own blood
As the magnificent matador and I
Perform our finite ballet
This dance of death
My enclosure's bolt is about to be lifted
Soon
Very soon
The matador's flourishing cape
Its crimson and gold tricks of ecstasy
Will swirl about and around
The stoic-faced tempter
Suddenly grinning with anticipation
While soiling himself
The piercing will come
I'll not allow pain any glory
I will drool
Defecate
Urinate
My legs will buckle
The sword now in my neck
The nerves failing my brain
Blood loss weakening my heart
Suffering passing quickly
I'll at last experience
Man's insane pleasure
My fallen passion
Bathed in blood
Dragged away by rope and horse
So many hours
So many training capes
So many horses taunting me
So many chances to fail into freedom
Chances to be respected
Like my father
Faithful father
I will miss you