Long Fan the flames Poems
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Luminous lids lift, languidly unveiling vistas of vibrant verse, as lavish laughter lines lips that lure with lyricism.
Sultry syllables swirl, a sweet serenade that saturates the senses, summoning sonnets that soar on solar winds.
Gentle gestures glide, a gracious gamut of elegance, as each delicate digit dances, dripping with dignified demeanor.
Fiery fervor flashes, a fervent fusion of fascination, as fervid fingers fan the flames of fantasy and fiction.
Ravishing radiance reigns, a resplendent rainbow of ravishing beauty, as rosy rouge revives and rejuvenates the senses.
Lissome limbs undulate, a languid latticework of loveliness, as lithe lines limn the landscape of the lovely dame.
Velvety vowels vibrate, a vibrant vocalization of vitality, as vivacious voice whispers sweet nothings to the willing heart.
Dazzling diamonds dazzle, a diadem of dazzling delight, as delicate digits decorate the divine with diaphanous drapery.
Svelte silhouettes sway, a sinuous serpentine of seduction, as supple skin shimmers, shedding shimmering shadows.
Gossamer garments glide, a gauzy gamut of gorgeousness, as gilded gowns glimmer, glowing with golden light.
Lustrous locks cascade, a lavish landslide of loveliness, as luxuriant tresses tumble, tumbling tenderly to the ground.
Ethereal essence emanates, an exquisite efflorescence of elegance, as the lovely dame embodies the essence of the divine.
Why should I be as one to veileth
herself, asking God, why thy Lilith?
You who made me of filth and impure sediment
Unlike the first man, made of dust or earth
What cause am I to deserve bedevilment?
Beneath him I am bitter like the root of myrrh
Snake charmer with cymbals
capture's men devout to her
Spell binding for the lout
A silky veil of crimson
drapes her luminous skin
Like the blood seen
from many a slayed men
Zills made of human bones
Imprinted are erotic symbols
Shrouded are her features
Lacen'd silk brush velvet lips
Intensity blazes as
sparkling ebony eyes appear
Raven hair flows wild
like glossy black feathers,
Bare feet buried in nights cool sand,
Swaying hips from side to side
Alluring goddess, she ascends to the sky
Her wings fan the flames
traversing through ancient Syria
Her equality shall be her alibi
Lusty lascivious lovers!
Sons of fathers, the unbaptized
doomed to the fiery hells
There in languid desire she dwells
Why should I be as one to veileth herself?
I am the first feminist
Likened to the glow of the moon
Lilith Luna, she roams
Any time anywhere and very soon
Director of destructive electric storms
To all who shall not escape the flames of fire
Her wistful wings fan the flames
My spirit shall be lifted nevermore only to enquire
Why I should be the one to veileth
herself, for I am Lilith
First woman on Earth
Why I Love Writing Poetry?
Did I mean why I love writing poems?
Nevertheless, I love writing poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, make others happy,
Inspire and defend others; to fan the flames
Of fairness, and to seek justice, fairness for the weak,
The innocents, the underprivileged, and the sick;
I can go on and on until I lose consciousness.
I love expressing myself with elegance and neatness.
Ordinary jerks always make fun of the Poets, that's not new;
And the Poets know darn well how to take care of them too.
Poets have thick skin; they are Heroes without fears.
They struggle, fight, write, raise hell and wipe their tears.
Sorry, if I am going astray, that's what I do best,
Sometimes, like any human being, I like to make a mess.
That's why I love writing essays, poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, and to make others happy.
At the same time, I want others to criticize, and castigate.
I make my own decisions, and can determine my own fate.
Poets have thick skin, and by nature have no fears.
Please swallow your frown, your smile, and wipe your tears.
Hebert Logerie Monday, January 26, 2015
Opportunity twist and twirl in a dance,
Blank shadows mimicking each movement,
Giving the moment an elusive chance
To embrace the renaissance for fulfillment.
Time turning the sentiments of the heart
Into the ceremony of spiritual purity,
While the worse of evil falls apart,
An innocent crown is best of all humanity.
Without anarchy drowning the world
Conviction is full of passionate intensity.
Every hopeful tide drift within the soul
Till the whole realm drains the ocean dry.
Out of the mist; some revelation comes
Brighter now, bringing the second chance,
The second chance! Hardly noticeable ones,
Except the images twisting and turning in a dance.
Into shapes with dreams, and places with names
Somewhere in the wilderness of regret,
Out of the pitiless, the gaze fan the flames
And a reel of the shadows from us vex spirit.
The darkness drops the rough beast,
A phantom fading out from the nightmare,
Good wishes made the hour come around at last,
Rebuke the indignant stony frown moving affair
The brighter colors are the first to go
as everything first fades to shades of grey
then eventually, to black or white.
Valid reasons come down to yes or no
then questioning to whom it is I pray;
while saying you are wrong and they are right.
Soon, the media put on their game show
feeding biased images day on day
to fan the flames of some unwanted fight.
The bleeding hearts come out with feelings faux
"We're on the side of right," they loudly bray.
Unless, of course, the mood swings overnight.
Soon, milling crowds with placards start to grow
authored, with many worthless things to say.
A self-backslapping, partying campsite.
Among this growing pile of bull guano
the ugly truth of war is cast away
unless it's in a big news anchor's sight.
A tight fist of emotion sprouts flames in my chest
and I fan the flames with a chilled smile
chiseled like the block of ice
stored in the freezer for the party.
I have stood empty as a discarded seashell, perhaps a clam's shell,
whose pearl should sparkle like the sun spattered sea, that is its home.
But it gleams like the moonlight
castings its light across surfaces- changing them to white or silver,
like the tops of carved glaciers, drifting as they change the shape of the earth.
Too heavy am I to walk on these surfaces,
even if they are frozen.
Seabirds wind up and spin lazily,
calling the wind for their flight- or at least to float momentarily,
like my spirit, needing so much to be released.
The gods are angry
and growing angrier.
Poseidon views his beautiful ocean
despoiled with garbage,
poisoned and polluted
by heedless humans.
He rages to Hephaestus
and Vulcan, gods
of creation, but, when angered,
purveyors of
fire and destruction.
He exhorts Jupiter, highest
of the gods, for retribution.
And now
the world is ablaze or
buried in snow and ice.
Boreas, god of the North Wind,
unleashes catastrophic winds
that fan the flames
in one region,
turn snow-laden, below-zero blasts
onto another.
Cities are flooded
or turned to dust in droughts.
Crops fail.
Disbelieve in us, they say,
at your own peril.
"The future depends on what you do today." - Mahatma Gandhi
Sages long ago, from experience
and insight have stated in unequivocal terms
that our future depends on
what we do today. So, spring into action
and leave the comfort zone.
Turn away from the shadows
of the past, mirroring fear and doubt,
of actions that misfired
of battles fought in vain
or dreams that never came true,
giving one aches and self- contempt
making one withdraw into a life of inaction.
Instead, search for new opportunities,
fan the flames of self- love
flickering within,
never before fanned,
yet may blaze and blossom.
it will script new stories
breathe fresh life into you.
it will come in the form of quieting peace
like a hand holding one, never letting go
find joy in giving up a plan that went futile
take one day at a time, live now
and steal the moment like a thief.
extinct are our Yesterdays,
illusory are our Tomorrows,
Today is all that exists,
what there is and all there is.
When seeds of action are sown today
We shall reap the harvest later
today is our way up hill
the arena for action decreed
the stage set for the show
the tool and trade for life.
so, toil relentless today.
panic not over yester years,
rant not on chances missed
greet Today, right in front!
live Now.
render it your respiration and perspiration
strive, find and reap rewards galore!
I like faint fire I feel
fueling me with fervor
for far off places without you
I like sweet scent of spring I smell
when you fan the flames
ignited by your carefree hand
I like warmth seeping in
letting my blood course free
with unpredictable energy
I like refreshing air I breathe
just seeing freedom lay waiting me -
sole initiator of breezy times
I like option one and two
of the whole shebang of things
I am free to do, or not do
I like how instant choice to vent
is mine, though time after time
... I've crossed no line ...
I like solitary silence
taking me by the hand
Soothing aches you've unhand
I like Creator's time
so packed with magic
My sole therapeutic fix.
*
50 Words for Poe: Vide Cor Meum
Look into my heart
see it’s sinew ripped
in the hole daisies grow
and death renews
forget-me-nots
unfurling crushed blue
from their
black soiled
deep dead
purple sleep
Vide Core Meum
slowly burns
the earth of me
forests roar
barefoot walks
through broken glass
then, nine inch nails,
the vanity fast retreats
where Raven wings
fan the flames
blue ribbons
veins complete
cor
caws
from it's bleeding
Poe-kept beak
this is where
the bushfire starts
Vide Core Meum
the Monster
Lillith is awake
Singing to her
Morning Star
The story not yet complete
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/SP9IrCCMUUw
Vide Cor Meum/Zimmer
“Every tree in the forest has a story to tell. Some of them were burnt but they endured the fire and got revived; some of them were cut, their barks injured, some people pick up their leaves to make medicines for their sicknesses, birds used their leaves to make their nests, etc."
https://youtu.be/pev0dINRaok
The Great Below/Reznor
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morning_Star