Long Catch fire Poems

Long Catch fire Poems. Below are the most popular long Catch fire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Catch fire poems by poem length and keyword.


Three Turtle Songs

Turtle by the Door

The bears and wolves are few;
one threadbare widow mourning,
two grays as consumptive as smoke.
The large dwindle,
their bodies grow more awkward,
more at odds.
The heavier beast's sway
like drunks in the scant woods.
Under a pelting dark they come.
Beneath a stabbing ice, one by one-
the animals.
I listen to their shuffling,
the scrape of delving claws.
They are scavenging,
pulled closer to me by visceral prods.
Hesitant paws withdraw as they near,
a restlessness keeps them gnawing
a middle ground.
I crane my neck from its ribcage;
they fall back and return,
wanting - always wanting.
The small creatures enter
where cracks fill with moonlight.
They scuttle and hesitate,
a little way,
a little.

I am Turtle,
a makeshift thing,
cloud-splashed and sullied.
I sing back the needy shadows,
cast my lamplight eyes
onto their weltered
hair-streaked hides.

~~~


Turtle Speaks


I did not bundle this day’s flesh,
nor did I carry it to a pathless end.
I merely watched it pass over black mountains,
slip away over thinning trails.

The sky-tent will catch fire again.
I am a roughhewn turtle.
I am starlight in a mud-pool.


A blind faced mole has carried
the moon up from the dirt once more,
though it is only a white bone,
only a hollow tooth.

Turtle am I, an unwrought creator;
one who watches,
who knows not to say
what cannot be said.


~~


Turtle Goes to the Light


Turtle's carcass is nibbled
into threads of brown river water.
His empty shell tumbles lazily
in slow currents.
Turtle stays where the starry mammoths
beat sunlight into skin and bone,
and he waits.

Mole, beaver, and badger
heap the dead upward
until light licks them away.
The world feeds upon itself,
time weaves new moth wings
from long buried evenings.

Then turtle reappears.
He hatches from an egg pushed through
green sludge and marsh fire,
he returns as a burnt shadow.

Turtle's leathery tongue clacks
he calls to all the blood-filled:
“Come again,
come around and around” he calls.

When his song is done
he perches on a scorched log
in the middle of everywhere
as silent as a stone.


Three Turtle Songs

Turtle by the Door

The bears and wolves are few,
one threadbare widow mourning,
two grays as consumptive as smoke.
The large dwindle,
their bodies grow more awkward,
more at odds.
The heavier beast's sway
like drunks in the scant woods.
Under a pelting dark they come.
Beneath a stabbing ice, one by one-
the animals.
I listen to their shuffling,
the scrape of delving claws.
They are scavenging,
pulled closer to me by visceral prods.
Hesitant paws withdraw as they near,
a restlessness keeps them gnawing
a middle ground.
I crane my neck from its ribcage,
they fall back and return,
wanting - always wanting.
The small creatures enter
where cracks fill with moonlight.
They scuttle and hesitate,
a little way,
a little.

I am Turtle,
a makeshift thing,
cloud-splashed and sullied.
I sing back the needy shadows,
cast my lamplight eyes
onto their weltered
hair-streaked hides.

~~~


Turtle Speaks


I did not bundle this day’s flesh,
nor did I carry it to a pathless end.
I merely watched it pass over black mountains,
slip away over thinning trails.

The sky-tent will catch fire again.
I am a roughhewn turtle.
I am starlight in a mud-pool.


A blind faced mole has carried
the moon up from the dirt once more,
though it is only a white bone,
only a hollow tooth.

Turtle am I, an unwrought creator,
one who watches,
who knows not to say
what cannot be said.


~~


Turtle Goes to the Light


Turtle's carcass is nibbled
into threads of brown river water.
His empty shell tumbles lazily
in slow currents.
Turtle stays where the starry mammoths
beat sunlight into skin and bone,
and he waits.

Mole, beaver, and badger
heap the dead upward
until light licks them away.
The world feeds upon itself,
Time weaves new moth wings
from long buried evenings.

Then turtle reappears.
He hatches from an egg pushed through
green sludge and marsh fire.
He returns as a burnt shadow.

Turtle's leathery tongue clacks
he calls to all the blood-filled:
“Come again,
come around and around” he calls.
When his song is done
he perches on a scorched log
in the middle of everywhere
as silent as a stone.

On the Front Line (Free Style "slam")

It was a hot June./  Late afternoon./  I stormed into that saloon / like a 30 men 
platoon!/  The bartender says, "Gentlemen not in here." /  I smiled and said, "Old man have 
no fear."/

       You wanna take this to the street?/  I can hear your racing heart beat./  How dare you 
try to compete!/  Call me a poetic athlete./  I hold the title not you./  My verses are sicker 
than swine flu!/  You probably never been in a fight in your life./  I'm that damn good - go 
ask your wife!/  OOPS - did I mention something you didn't know?/  Someone ring the bell 
it's a TKO!/  Someone call his mom./  This is going to be bloodier than Vietnam!/ What?! You 
heard it through the grape vine?/  I'm a poetic fighter on the frontline!

       You reap what you sow./ I slaughter any foe,/ and just in case you didn't know./  I'm 
the great grandson of Edgar Allen Poe!/  So what cha think about that?/  I'll beat you with my 
wiffle ball bat!/  I'm trained for combat./  Walking over poets like the bottom of a doormat!/  
Someone turn down my pens thermostat!/  I think this paper is about to catch fire!/  My 
words will wrap you in barbed wire!/  I will own your soul./  This pen is my pistol!/  N. C. is 
where I'm from ./  My lyrics will set you ablaze like Napalm!/  Read the headline,/ I'm a 
poetic soldier on the frontline!

       Yes I will haunt the night./  I feel guite / comfortable on the frontline./  Call me Dr. 
Frankenstein!/  A freak of nature, not of this world./  Don't talk smack/ Jack/ It's a fact I'll 
take yo girl!/  A cassonova from birth./  I'm not of this earth./  I know you can't stand it./  
But I was born on another planet!/  You hear my voice,/ and my weapon of choice,/ a razor 
sharp scimitar!/  I can hear/ the fear/ I'm the fallen star!/  So as I drop the H-bomb/ I hop 
back in my UFO./  You know where I'm from/ beyond the rainbow!/  At last you feel the teeth 
of my canine!/  A poetic soldier on the frontline!!!


* This is just me venting, not written toward non of you guys...hehe

Rough Cuts

Peel back my skin & you will find bone. 
Bone so white that it drarwfs the paper I scribble on now. 
Just like your my bone. 
Just like his bone. 
Just like the bones of all of those who are black, yellow, red, purple & polka dotted, 
my bones are nothing more than branches rooted deep in an idea. 
An idea of a man filled with ideas. 
Ideas which are seeds, seeds that when planted, grow when watered by heavenly droplets. 
And when the rain falls, it will wash the dirt into the gutters & we will pretend that it was never even there. 
Just like the innocent bloodshed of invisible African children. 
Bloodshed in the name of love? 
Heh, no. 
Bloodshed because men try too hard to be gods forgetting that when everyone at their feet are dead, 
the only praises left will be of the voices left remaining inside of their own heads. 
And yet we will do nothing about it, because far too many of us only believe life. 
But in order to believe life 
you must first live. 
And living only exist on a dying man's bucket list. 
So go ahead, jump out of airplanes in the name of your mother's fathers. 
Look at your girlfriend guys. 
Let her for once keep her clothes on. 
Remember that she is somebody's daughter. 
Tell that man or woman how you really feel. 
Hold the door for someone you don't even know. 
Tell somebody a secret that will let their heart grow; 
Grow so large that it burst from them as a shout of joy! 
And them let them catch fire and call it the spirit. 
What spirit you ask? I know mine. 
Not dad, but Father. 
And my heart and mind when with You, even if your spirit aint mine, that alone I find is true love. 
So go ahead. If you're a brother 
be my brother. If you're a sister be my sister. 
Cause what the world needs now is lots of smiling faces, 
Open arms, 
Very giving people 
And every single one of us putting together the pieces of the puzzle called peace. 
So peace my brothers. 
Peace my sisters. 
Tonight, let these rough cuts 
make us into love wishers.

Premium Member A Different Kind of World

The old Ford's hum on a road so long
Every mile's a memory, where I don't belong
Left this town with a song in my soul
Never thought I'd lose all my control
The doctor's voice, a whisper of a storm
Shook the ground and left my spirit torn
So I came back home, where the fields are green
To a ghost of a girl I used to be

Now the steeple bell rings on a Sunday mornin'
A sound I haven't heard since I was a girl
It's a lonely kind of hope that keeps me goin'
A faded map to a different kind of world
'Cause I'm trying to find God in the space between
The what-ifs and the what-should've-beens
On this hard ground, where the truth feels real
I'm just praying for a faith I used to feel

Mama's front porch swing, it creaks the same tune
Underneath a pale and worried moon
She says, "Honey, just pray, He'll hear your plea"
But the words catch fire in the long, dark night in me
Used to talk to Him easy, like a trusted friend
Didn't know it was a road that could just end
Now I'm just a whisper in a silent hall
Wondering if He's listening at all

'Cause the steeple bell rings on a Sunday mornin'
A sound I haven't heard since I was a girl
It's a lonely kind of hope that keeps me goin'
A faded map to a different kind of world
"Cause I'm trying to find God in the space between
The what-ifs and the what-should've-beens
On this hard ground, where the truth feels real
I'm just praying for a faith I used to feel

The creek still runs behind the Baptist church 
Where I used to sing with a simple purpose
Now I'm down here kicking stones in the stream
Trying to find a piece of a broken dream

Yeah, I'm just trying to find God
In this faded little town
Before the last light goes down
Before the last light goes down
Form: Lyric


Darkfall Posts a New Preview of the Battle-Brand Role

Fire School is in session! Aventurine has released a new video that shows off the skills of one aspect of Darkfall Unholy Wars' Elementalist role, and casters and and pyros-at-heart will enjoy a look into the Fire Mage. Feel like swimming through a bubbling lake of lava? Cast a self-buff and dive right in! Like to lob flaming balls at others and watch them catch fire? Then Fire Mage is the class for you!

Like its name implies, this particular mage uses an arsenal of fiery tricks to best opponents. The class focuses on medium- to long-range combat and incorporates knockbacks and area effects into many of the spells. For a demonstration of Dragonbreath, Magma Bomb, Heat Stroke, and other skills, check out the sizzling video after the break. 

You should know your role in Darkfall Unholy Wars. After all, your role determines a lot of what you're capable of doing at any given time, so it's pretty important. The newest development blog on the game gives a preview of one of the updated re-release's new roles for the Warrior, the defensive school known as the Battle-Brand. This is not a role for going out and making people miserable; this is a role for ruining the days of those trying to make you miserable.

The Battle-Brand's abilities include two self-buffs to reduce magical damage taken and reflect a portion of damage taken back to the source. It also features Foebringer, an AoE pull for all nearby enemies, and Bandage, a self-healing spell to keep the Warrior up longer. Last but not least is the ultimate ability, Stoic Defense, which makes the Warrior entirely immune to damage for a short time while consuming mana and stamina. Take a look at the role's abilities in action in a preview video just past the cut.
© Lea Hela  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A Different Alphabet Soup

Actions are said to speak louder than words,
Because a word without spirit is lifeless,
Containing no fuel or faith to ignite.

Diseases, for example, strive without cures.
Evils persist where there are none combatants
For withstanding their assaults of wickedness.

God created mankind with the ability to choose
Heaven through faith in Christ or eternal separation.
Indifference to the opportunity of choice is not an option.

Justice may well be delayed, but there's final judgment by God.
Kindness as a one act event is great, but being always kind is best.
Love is an action word that can never be reduced to mere words.

Magnanimous is to be over the top, above, and far beyond the norm.
Nation State is a 'God Idea' and cannot be healthy if He's not desired.
Open and tender hearts make room for others, no matter who they are.

Politics like governments must always be subject to the will of the people.
Question and quantify; check and balance; hope and trust, but verify.

Revivals can occur and catch fire when we come into close contact with God.
Starting revival fires must be followed up with keeping it fed with divine fuel.
Taming our tongues is more than a notion, and is futile without God's help.

Uncommon and underutilized are what have become of common sense.
Values clarification has been replaced with complications and devaluations.
Work ethics and pride of one's craft are not very noble and treasured anymore.

Xenogenesis is the supposed generation of offspring different from the parent.
You and I have been placed on earth with a purpose given to us by God Himself.
Zero, and not hero, is what results when we have nothing to give to others.

We All Have Off Buttons

We all have buttons,
But we all have them in different places,
Almost impossible to find by looking at our faces.

The best way to find them is to build on the relationship,
And get them to trust you enough,
To show you where they are,
Or if they can be operated by remote control,
Give you the password.
Be aware if they have an internet connection,
You may have to double click.

Some of us have a silent mode on our off buttons,
So the other person can get a good nights sleep. 

Children can be turned off,
But to do that you need a key,
Which is turned anticlockwise,
So they run out of energy and go to sleep.
Some will need a favourite book or toy,
To be provided before you can turn the key.
Remember anti-clockwise, not clockwise,
As that will wind them up and nobody
Will get any sleep.

Some people have off buttons that if pushed too hard,
Can catch fire or explode,
And if that happens you should call in an expert
In relationship building, 

Like all pieces of equipment,
You should test them more than once, 
To make sure they are in working order.

I also have to warn you,
That outside the hours of nine to five,
A professional relationship builder,
May be hard to find. 

Of course you can avoid the need for one of those,
By building more than one relationship,
So you have a friend who you can call after hours for free advice.

Also it is recommended that you call only one person at a time your partner,
It is I am told, quite lonely,
Never having the need to push someone's off button occasionally.

Premium Member Stateless

                         Stateless

			…thatched houses catch fire
sparrow tires from romping in the coned-flower chestnut   
     tree
				alights on the road
	tires crunch macadam
				sparrow perches on live telegraph wires
winds sweep the plains
					topple high-tweeting power poles
			sparrow haunts deserted godowns
caterpillar cranes tear down loading wharves
		sparrow unloads wings on marshalling yard
  trains shuttle screeching   now forth     now back
  	sparrow glides  then tumbles in air-pockets
temperature plummets
					snow flakes
      magpie in the châtaignier  shrieks disgust to the skies
melting snow runs down eaves
						air sizzles with imminent     
                            thunder
Zhen of a sudden clapclaps righteous terror
  The Eldest Son of High Heaven has high business to supervise  
                     tapeworms bore deeper into the ground
	the cicada scarcely calls to mate
   wet hungry ruffled sparrow
	has no chestnut tree to go back to    now home to transiting seagulls   tries to alight on spring-green spare Pawlonia 	chockfull of crows
	averts the mulberry tree à la feuille de platane
    fishing gear lie splayed against the trunk
       the dense dripping prickly hibiscus hedge
affixes
			house-full
  sparrow perches on the terrace rose pot
	the neighbour’s Siamese cat’s ears perk up
                sparrow rolls its eyes

April 24, 1997

From the privately-pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member I Want But Don't Need

I Want, But Don't Need

Yes, "I Want, But Don't Need" is my waistwatcher creed 
     as I walk by each vending machine.
All those chocolate chips calling out to my hips,
     colored Reese's in pieces - obscene!
Will willpower surmount the cholesterol count
     of PayDays or some Rice Krispie Treats?
Can I even forsake the caloric intake
     of LifeSavers, the smallest of sweets?

Yummy Snickers and Kit-Kats, peanut M&Ms, 
     with three flavors of Hostess fruit pie,
I am hoping my brain simply vetoes 
     the Cheetos, Doritos, and Fritos, oh my!
Dare I ponder the truth of the harm Baby Ruth 
     will inflict on my belly's increase?
Soon my sweet tooth will bargain with riveting jargon,
     "Please buy it, I'll just eat a piece!

Then there's Hershey's and Twix, and six kinds of trail mix.
     And the drinks! Pepsi, Root beer, and Coke,
Dr. Pepper, YooHoo, Orange Crush, Mt. Dew
     render new resolutions a joke.
Then two hours post-lunch, there's that nice Nestle Crunch
     overwhelming my stoic resolve,
And the Heath bars and Dove bars and Clark bars and Mars bars 
     enticing my will to dissolve.

I am one of those hoarders of nickels and quarters -
     should ever the munchies catch fire.
Self-control starts to fail when those Oreos hail,
     calling out to my carnal desire.
In a fog, I hear clinking of coins, with lights blinking
     then eating and drinking. No sorrow!
For I just HAD to buy it, the heck with my diet -
     "Whole 30" can just start tomorrow!
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.

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