Long Inflame Poems
Long Inflame Poems. Below are the most popular long Inflame by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Inflame poems by poem length and keyword.
I am the reef beneath the sun’s warm sway.
A thousand years old, yet slipping away.
Your nets and ships cut deep into my skin,
But my heart still beats deep in currents within.
You count me as treasure, a thing to own.
Yet I am an ecosystem, of coral and stone.
Grant me my rights to get up and defend,
my waters, my creatures, on whom we depend.
I shelter the fish, the whale, the sting ray,
I give them safe harbor, a home to stay.
Yet you strip my reefs, you plunder my bed,
Inflame the climate change curse you spread.
I guide the moon to draw tides in prayer.
Sprinkle starlight like salt in night's air.
I arouse wonder in all who swim here and dive.
Yet you deny the rights I need to survive.
You write laws for humankind, and for the sea,
Write me my rights of nature — that’s my plea.
So I can defend my rights with a legal decree.
Not as your resource, but as a living entity.
I am the Barrier Reef — hear my plea,
Grant me my birthright, my will to be.
If I could speak, I would wail; I would roar.
For you're destroying my life, forevermore.
Let me speak; let my life force arise.
Hear my roar beneath the tides and skies.
I'm not your treasure, not yours to keep.
I am alive; let me the Barrier Reef, speak.
As a unique Natural Wonder with my own voice.
To proclaim my rights; To let the oceans rejoice!
The Barrier Reef is Alive!
Give it a Voice - Let it Speak
Give it rights - Its Natural Rights!
Give it a Voice - Let it Speak
When life weighs heavily
upon my heart,
and time threatens to tear it apart:
I turn to poetry:
more specifically, my poetry.
I feel emotionally linked
to my pen:
and as my thoughts flow onto the paper,
they're absorbed into the fibers
between the lines and verses of each poem.
Poetry is my candle in the dark;
fueled by my muse:
its flame burns brightly in my mind.
Poems amplify my inner voice
and anchor my words to reality;
exposing my secretive self,
through thoughts tethered to my soul.
Poetry is like a mind-meld,
between the poet and the reader.
A wordsmith, I forge words to inflame the heart;
stroke the ego, purge pain, comfort grief
and appease the soul.
Poetry allows for feelings
to be openly shared,
providing an emotional catharsis;
that must be experienced,
to be appreciated.
There is nothing else like it!
To Debbie - A dedication
Yours is the beauty to quench the thirst
of hearts of men, so love-forlorn
The truth of passion, yours alone
and only you can love-reborn.
And many shall flock to you en-masse
with dire a need to love inflame
I too, in hope, shall wait my turn
so strong the urge to feel the same.
The essence of love is all of you
and you, and you, and you, again
You are the true ‘sine qua non’
for love to be a worthy gain
Please gift to me a right to taste
of this good thing the heart creates
Please let me cast a longing gaze
upon the face that loving sates.
(The Fg 81.5.8)
A language to have fun with,
Or if not, to play pun with:
In love, the two can cleave
Or else into two cleave,
If you like you can flame,
If not you can inflame;
These pairs mean all the same,
Anarchy be her name;
Have fun with it or none with.
________________________
Limerick | 24.12.2025 | anarchy, language, fun, pun, none
Note: English seems a language of articulated anarchy. If there are linguistic laws they are applied but in breaking them. You don’t spell as pronounced, nor pronounce as is spelled. Same words having many meanings, though it is so in Sanskrit as well. But then it has a common heritage which is Indo European. To cleave is to like, to love, to get attached to. It also means: to cut in half, the very opposite. Again, flame or inflame, it means the same. This verbal wackiness makes it an ideal playground for impish double entendre with puns galore.
Abort me not
What's the thought was I was brought
Electrified turbulent sequences
Triggers action imaginative
Visionary dreams of scheme
Abort me not
A way of things I am bothered electrified a promise
Attilating spark a due process
Created by spiritual goodness or enraged by sin
I am co-created by God man and woman
Alas a human-baby
A manly seed penetrates an egg influence
Created today spiritual first then encased in a physical realm
An egg rolling inside my mother's womb
Not realizing that through sin I
I will be processed placed in the tomb in a metal or wooden box
Abort me not
To ride away my former frame my body sways
My bones shall disintegrate My flesh shall rot
I will be gone back to dirt to dust where I came
Lo! before that in the process comes alive
I am a seed an egg in my mother's pride
In her womb, my first room
I will grow mankind dictates whether I'm alive
Whether I'm a boy or a girl yet alive
God made me an embryo
Abort me not
A human being the spirit before I was flesh and now
I am a witness I crave life that I may have my chance
As my ancestors dance
For if you abort me you sin against God
Be not a defeatist
Do not destroy this fetus
You cut down His tree for I shall stand I shall grow
I shall inflame I will impale I will restrict you from tarnishing my name
I will grow out
I will not fear doubt
Abort me not
I was to surface not sink
I will swim I will drown
I will climb not fall
I will succeed and not fail
Nor will any one buy nor shall bought me
As I am for sale no I am not because I am more than just an embryo
For every Angels plan by choice in the physical realm
Is to be either walking on land to later die through sin
To be forgiven and Resurrection in heaven or to continue,
in sin unforgiven and to live eternity in hell
Abort me not
8/21/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
I often wonder
are you even slightly aware
of what you're doing to me?
How you're reaching inside me,
touching me, and where?
Your words inflame me and then
Sometimes they're not enough
I want more, need you in me
like a battering ram inside
sometimes these feelings
are impossible to hide.
I often wonder
how your lips would feel
pressed against mine
would our tongues intertwine?
or could I even breathe
with you so very near
or would I just cease to exist
and die from this tryst?
Can't you see how my soul
gets lost in your eyes,
your smile, the very thought
of you holding me down
or pulling me near and
how the fantasy moves me
to tears.
I often wonder
If you enjoy those times
when you are making me feel
this way, If I begged for more
A plea whispered in the dark,
what would you even say?
I write this poetry from my soul.
Deliver it at a crawl to you
does it thrill you all I have
to say or tell me am I slowly
pushing you away??
©SamHarty
Lonely maid immured in the castle walls
does an urgent desire thee inflame...
when I charm thy verdant eye?
Mine fate is entwined with thine,
be it life liveth in love, or nothing more!
O veil not thy smooth, timid face
with doubt and fear! Though thou seem too brave
to endure what morrow might bring ashore;
thy vessel will not stray from mine keen eye,
assured guidance will spare it from wrackage,
as I spare thee the sorrow of the coldest tears!
Lonely maid immured in the castle walls,
thou will know sublime joy in mine passionate embrace,
as these lips make thee taste their sweetness;
mine passion is a love no lover hath or will have,
and I bring a light to illuminate thy darkness!
Lonely maid immured in the castle walls,
forbidden to feel love and explore its wonders,
let thy words come forth and speak in tender tongue;
thou can break thy vow of forced chastity...
as no king possess thee but this knight of loyalty!
Like a raging river barreling toward an arid basin,
sediment collects inside a hardening heart.
Weighing heavy, eyelids flutter over drowning maculas;
all that can be seen are murky riptides.
Vision cuts out.
Frantically flaring arms desperately try to skim the surface,
dragged deeper into an unknown chasm.
Sub-zero temperatures shroud panicking flesh.
Prying eyes open, undiluted pitch darkness surrounds.
Gasping for oxygen, lungs inflame.
Excruciating pain catapults through weakening legs.
Safety is nowhere to be found.
Reaching into an intolerably tight pocket,
I feel for your disintegrating picture.
My savior became my impending doom.
Only evanescent memories remain
at the bottom of this watery grave.
I lived a life throughout this land, and with time, wisdom have I earned
I'll try my best and that is my pledge, to share with you what I have learned
With growing strength and new found wisdom, sensing I became brighter
Out of no where then came a burning desire, to be this type of fighter
Neither muscle nor aggression could this be an obsession, that I would ever aspire
rather with pen and paper and the truth to shape her, only this could I ever admire
Discovering this power close at hand, hoping that it would finally afford
An opportunity for me to persist, because the pen is mightier than the sword
You, my adversary, might steal my money or cause me some shame
but know for sure, the words of my heart you would succeed only to inflame
I'll muster the will with all my strength, to oppose you when you conspire
In the end it shall be known, and the truth all will acquire
I've had this dream since I was little, to find a way to bind
making my words and thoughts come alive, and of a singular kind
Just plant this one thought in your mind, and never ever let it go
only with paper and pen and writing again, can you ever expect to grow
We hear, then reason; "-ane" becomes a chain,
Mundane, inane, profane — in one shared refrain.
The ear makes kin; the mind supplies the blame.
Their sound alone condemns an innocent name.
But '-ane' has no common ancestor that's known.
No single root from which these shades have grown.
They're joined by sound, not blood; a chance refrain,
They're strange bedfellows, lodged inside the brain.
'Mundane' simply means the earth beneath our feet.
The dust, the stars, the bitter, and the so sweet.
No dullness is dealt within its core domain;
We dulled the world, then christened it 'Mundane'.
'Profane' stood simply outside sacred ground,
Beyond the shrine, where ordinary life was found.
But thresholds hardened; differences gathered blame.
What stood beyond the sacred, gathered within its shame.
'Inane' was empty, hollow, a void within.
While 'vain' knew emptiness through a different kin.
Their meanings conjoined, though separate they remain—
Two roads to nothing, rhyming within the brain.
Then 'bane' arrived from quite another tree,
In Old English it's 'bana': death and enmity.
No Latin cousins riding on the train—
A killer merely dressed to rhyme with “-ane.”
So 'mundane', 'vain', 'profane', 'inane' and 'bane'.
Parade like blood relations throughout the brain.
The rhyme persuades; resemblance stakes its claim.
The ear invents a bloodline with which to inflame.
We hear resemblance, then presume a chain.
One word's dark shadow stains another's name.
A rhyme becomes a verdict; sound becomes blame.
Those unrelated roots all inherit borrowed shame.
We forge from echoes pedigrees of blame.
Make strangers kin, then stain them in our game.
Each word stood innocent; our ears supplied the stain—
We dulled the world, then christened it “Mundane”.