Scorches Poems | Examples

Turn Up the Heat

Your heat scorches my heart
Your eyes singe my soul
I'm a willing, wanton, slave,
Free me now, or make me whole.

Bound in blessed bondage,
Brand me with brands of fire.
Dancing flames of passion,
Fans my tepid heart's desire

Fire Drake

FIREDRAKE

A dragon I have slain in the past has
Come back to find me as I sleep in the 
Arms of a pale white dream

He hides within the catacombs of my soul
Seeking to devour the very essence of 
My being

His fiery breath scorches the foundations
Of my emotions melting away my sanity

His talons rip at my conscience stripping
Me of life’s reality

This horrid serpent I know so well
lurks in the shadows of my dark world
Never seen never heard but I know he’s there
Oh yes I know he’s there

black sunset

Sunrise or Sunset Haiku with a Color Poetry Contest
Tania Kitchin

smoke scorches her skies
flames engulfed her soul and life
the maui wildfire

Softly

Softly I'll come to you with poems I'll write
And wondrous dreams to fill the night
To release my heart from its rusty chain
To give breath to love unrestrained

Softly I'll come to you with a lover's bliss
To quench love's thirst with every kiss
Beneath the glimmer of starry skies
That brings a shimmer we can't disguise

Softly I'll come to you with love that yearns
Your long brown hair that scorches and burns
Under Ivory glows that enhance the night
Our silhouettes will dance in the jeweled light

Softly I'll come to you with eyes that confess
And lasting dreams that our hearts possess
Where whispers are heard from softer sighs
That lies within these words we'll comply

Softly I'll come to you before the sun accends
To glean the night for time without end
We'll share our hearts through an endless night
Where your beauty will lie till the morning light
Softly I'll come to you Softly I will

GITI

## I.
Your absent gaze still scorches me,  
a mark from where your touch has been.  
The miles collapse like glass in rain,  
separation forges its cold chain—  
yet still your flame draws me within.  

*What keeps us whole when love's fire dies?*

---

## II.  
I search your name through midnight skies,  
where broken constellations die.  
Each whispered word, a molten drop  
that binds my heart to the lingering shadow of you—  
love is the chain I won't deny.  

*What hidden force draws hearts to skies?*

---

## III.
The fire within my chest lives on,  
though winter buries what has gone.  
Your ring—a circle, bright and whole—  
reflects the fractures in my soul;  
from love's ash, deepest tide flows.  

*What truth does dawn from darkness disguise?*

---

## IV.
Between each heartbeat, silence bends  
toward the place where longing ends.  
I am fading flame, you distant storm—  
but when your memory takes its form  
like silver roots through earth's dark womb,  
we rise together from love's tomb.  

*What else remains but love's enduring ties?*

The One Within

There is a silent visitor inside you now —

softer than fresh-baked bread,
more precious than gifts from wise men of the East.
A second heartbeat,
gently echoing beneath your own.

You carry more than a name.
You carry memories yet to be made,
a mirror of past souls,
a vessel for tomorrow’s joy.

So walk gently,
eat wisely,
rest fully.

That bottle of cider —
it whispers lies.
That puff of smoke —
it scorches what is still becoming.

Feed this life with love,
with hope,
not with chemicals that dilute beautiful expectations.

Go.
Sit with those women in white —
the ones who read charts like oracles,
plotting the rise of a king or queen within your womb.
Let them weigh the weeks,
count your months like blessings.

Endure the prick of needles —
not just for you,
but for the strength of the life to come.

And when the countdown draws near,
remember:
Swollen feet will give way
to first smiles.
Too much sleep
will surrender to sleepless nights.
And sleepless nights
will bloom into stories —
told by the very angel
you now carry.

by Davie Kaliu

Simmer

The simmer of a summer sky
                   by favor of the golden sun
Invites my mind to seek and play
                  such memories of summer fun

Recalling lust of days gone by
       for sands of youth on beaches fair
Still tickles toes as oceans spray
               and salted breezes dance on air

For tantalizing tan-lined skin
      all copper toned in glistened  glow
I further reach inside my thought 
                  remembering, my senses flow

The simmer of such sanguine spin
                   on summer reverie in heat
Still scorches as my brain is caught
         and summer’s sandals burn my feet

soft burn of noon hiku

        *****
     *        *      *              \\   l  //  
                                      --- O ---   ~ ~ ~ ~      
   *                      *             Sun scorches the field—
 *      *      *        *
       .-^-.
     /        \
    |  o  o  |
     \       / 
     |--|--|       a scarecrow wilts in silence,
 ==|__|===         
        ||        
        ||
        ||     ~ ~ 
    ~~~~~~~ ~ ~ even birds lie still.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~

Temptation

Flames that ignites
bright red at its core,
ravenous hunger linger
overwhelmed by its
hot desire and through 
the night it burns,

its visible heat scorches
the skin of its next victim,
leaving a mark of sole
ownership, it kisses 
endearingly seducing
in enchantment, 

torturous feeling reigns
in a field of thrones caused
by a leakage of subtle
attraction,

a rose in its prime curves
and twists along these 
spikes being

tormented,
suffocated,
coddled violently, 

but its beautiful sight continues
to call the

Master of Silver Tongue,
Eyes of Lust and Passion 

sways its prey shackling 
its heart for a moment 
of pleasure.

Celebrating Pherzawl's Serenity

Celebrating Pherzawl's Serenity

I’ve fallen in love with Pherzawl’s gentle air,
I’ve fallen in love where cool whispers dare.

Though summer scorches lands both far and near,
Though summer scorches, here the sky is clear.

I’m dreaming of Delhi’s relentless blaze,
I’m dreaming of Guwahati’s fiery haze.

Hmarkhawlien and Silchar’s blazing heat,
Hmarkhawlien and Silchar, I’m not missing that beat.

But here, soft mist cloaks all in silver shrouds,
But here, the clouds drift low like quiet crowds.

Life blooms beneath Pherzawl’s serene sky,
Life blooms beneath where cool soft breezes sigh.

© 2025 Pastor Emmanuel Serto

Sky Weeps Over Gaza

Beneath a sky once soft and blue,
Now painted smoke, a darker hue,
The cries of children split the air
A lullaby of deep despair.

The earth, it shakes with fire and flame,
But none can tell the world who’s to blame,
Innocence lies in crimson pools,
While tyrants play with warlike tools.

A mother holds a lifeless hand,
A father searches through the sand,
A baby’s toy, a shattered shoe
Reminders of the life they knew.

The angels weep as souls take flight,
Torn from sleep into the night.
They rise, like stars against the black,
But dreams don’t soar;they’re pulled right back.

For every blast that scorches skies,
Another child stops asking "why."
The sky rains down not hope, but fear,
And silence follows every tear.

Gaza burns, the world turns blind,
Yet echoes linger in mankind.
A prayer for peace, a mournful sound,
As broken hearts fall back to ground.

Let not their deaths be lost in sand,
The blood of Gaza stains our hands.
Speak, until the silence ends,
Till bombs give way to peace again.

People Beg Me to Not Cook

When I want to cook others beg me to stop.
I once baked a cake that when rolled could hop.
We made it into balls and watched it go down the walk.
Some of it was whisked away by a determined chicken hawk.

Hope that bird does not die, my sister said.
She loves to cook, can make pies, puddings and bread.
If I try to make a hamburger, it scorches black in the pan.
I am the worst cook in Kansas, you can ask my man.

Out of desperation he learned to cook.
He is a really great chef, can maneuver the nook.
Which is to say the kitchen which I begged the builder to leave out.
That put his knickers in a knot, the man swore and gave a shout.

She does not cook, she is really bad at it, my husband explained.
I was going to try cookies yesterday, but everyone complained.
They have cleaned up my messes, and none wanted to do it again.
Luckily I live close to my baking, cooking sister; she is my twin.

On the Road

The sun scorches along the interstate
branding Arizona with smoldering,
rubber Nazca lines.
In the steak house, ersatz, Western artifacts,
She says she is Navajo
but she looks like Britney Spears.
She brings some bland reproduction food.
I think of Navajo blankets,
how a hand-woven history
has kept their stories new.
She tells me she is working her way through
- she did not say what.
I don’t ask,
I hope it’s someplace real.

A complaint

If you don’t like my poem, just close it tight,
It won’t harm me, I’ll be all right.
History itself will judge, not we,
Who stands tall, and who’s lesser, you’ll see.

I write my verses as my heart desires,
My only demand is truth that inspires.
Better to cry out and die for what’s real
Than cross to the other side with sin to conceal.

Will I find happiness? Maybe, maybe not,
It matters little if I’m liked or forgot.
My duty is truth for the future to bear;
If not, would I not rest idle somewhere?

Have I fulfilled my duty? I cannot say,
Have I done good or simply gone astray?
Instead of questioning those like me,
To the future, I’ll write my plea!

You may not be an angel, but still you strive,
The truth of life will always survive.
When hellfire scorches your very soul,
Our earthly woes will seem so small.

Demons and spirits grow numerous today,
True sincerity feels further away.
Before your conscience, your soul purifies,
Through the good deeds seen by human eyes.

A person redeems with kindness alone,
And a cleansed soul brings me joy unknown.
Let my people testify to the truth of my word,
And let this petition stand as my accord!

Steady Through the Fire

The hours lean heavy,
laid like bricks with no mortar,
a survival gripped together by determination.
You are half truth, half courage,
escape before they bring the cracks to the surface,
before it shows, before the weight.

It’s not the clapping that stirs you,
not the glow of some imagined end,
but the quiet conviction
to bear it all,
to ensure no one else has to.

Tell me how it feels,
to bear the world’s muck upon your back,
to keep breath gentle, even as it scorches,
to give without taking,
and call it living.

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