Singe Poems

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

Horn Turbulent Trying Haiku

started out soft singe
then there was a taunting twinge
revealing revenge             

                             
Horn Turbulent Trying Haiku

A COLD WINTERs STEAMY

The staticky-stars climax under intense blanket of Winter glow.
Your spouse can’t see your spirited green eyes that burn slow.

The friction of campfire sticks, the satiny slipperiness of moon.
Flames of blue, orange and red won’t be overcome too soon.

Pert rose petals, that once were goosebumpy and ice cold,
scintillate like fireworks until the grand finale’s loosed, uncontrolled.

Warm breath in a cold Winter’s steamy and a restless beast.
Lips lavish over late night feast, matches singe, sate increased.

Squirming under the leisurely complement of coals, coalescing,
Coolness of a blue lake vaingloriously countering, distressing.

A long midnight’s thrashing, sans pillory; the high beams foray.
Pillow talk, a sensuous squeeze, a high-diving elixir bouquet.

Ah those stars brilliantly glowing on a long Winter’s night!
Those limbs blush, rose petals crush, with unfettered light.

Revenge While I Will Twinge Horn Haiku

when we want revenge
are able to see me twinge
when off skin would singe

Hear Here

Why do I sing such a memory?
You're gone now, I've sung you away.
Recalling a song
or humming a tune
seems not to be enough.

No, I have to sing, to holler, to bellow
and then that recollection will depart;
such noise will take its place
and singe so many ears.
And then they will cringe.

(4 Oct 2023)

Standing Still, But Standing Still

I'm standing still
But at least I'm still standing

Some have their souls spill-
Their souls of reprimanding

Like dead leaves
Blowing in the wind
They wander
But do not go

They are a blanket
Chagrined
Of their souls
As cold as snow

They're ground, cracking at slightest quake
Allowing stones to tumble upon them
And more, lacking might and slamming brakes
Whenever they crumble some

For life yields challenge
There's strifes, the morale singe

But I will not stop when trespassed and infringed
I will not halt to a trouble, to a society unhinged

I will stand still
But, I stand ground

I'm standing still
But I'll never back down

Go

Go stand with your troubles
Go stand with your tears
Go on the snow
While dead leaves skim your tears

And there shall be a day-
If you always stand

There shall be a dusk
When you sprint on the land

Never fall down
Take this-- OUR poem's hand

You can't force a world
But your as for your soul

You're in command
~!

Cringe

She loved the feeling of the singe,
As she further pushed in the syringe.

(Note: This is about no one. Just a cool rhyme and dark topic.)

Burden of Power

In this age of chaos, troubled tunes do chime;
seems elites can't control all the power.
Brawn does drag down ruler's clout over time,
only ones of merit can clutch the hour.
Military might has crushed many a soul
no one escapes, though millions are in play.
Through turbulent times it's taken its toll;
everything said, one must watch what they say.

One slip and an entire empire may fall,
fear Black Angel rumblings that lead to war.
Flicking a sole switch could end it all
in fiery overtures which singe the score.
Burden often flows from buried regrets
battles long fought that memory forgets.



Sonnet 14 lines  105 words  1/7/23
Illustration colored pencil by G. Gaul

Indian Autumn

Cooler days follow an old Cherokee trail
into a reclaiming Indian summer.
Yellow maple leaf singe at their edges.
Russet hues are browning.
Autumn may linger around town
fraying and wilting
until Halloween cuts down the sun.
We peer sweating through imagined clouds.
Evening bats are strung from charred branches
and droop silently
from their fire-proof strings.

Swept

He took my hand gently
his skin soft velveteen
i think he smiled
or at least the corner of his mouth arched
in synchronicity with his perfectly lined eyebrow
as his fingers entwined them selves in mine
and he pulled me slowly closer
his aftershave dying apples and caramel past its point
a trace of his fingernail
as his hand rested
in the nape of my back
Behind tables and friends
disappeared in snarling mists
the music warping squelching
into a single pounding beat
spinning me
as my feet
broke it promise to earth
No bead of sweat
no catch of breath
waiting for some benevolencey-i know this is wrong but i like the sound
to try to cut in
Jesus i can't breathe in hear
but still keep the beat that i here
feel his heat
from his burning chest
Now pins of light peer from the darkness
Tendrilled horny shadow beast
that beg to watch our wanting
wrapped like a slithering
denrut around
he draws his hands through my hair
tucking strands behind my ear
his breath singe skin
eyes refuse to close
lips pursed in forever increasing lines
that splint of light that spits and spills
across lips of ruby named.
He whisper are you mine
nope but soon

Dragonslayer

(for J.B.P.)

A polarizing figure
A catalyzing force
A man for all seasons 
He’s a man called Horse

A strong man in the wheelhouse
A tall man in the field 
No crow of ruin touches him
His constitution, steeled 

What dragon of today 
Could touch that mighty pen?

Demonized, lionized
All faces at once
Like Einstein or Picasso
An immortal eminence

His enemies can’t catch him
Though they try and try
Their straw-man feats of idiocy
Are quickly sent to die

What dragon of today 
Could still that mighty voice?

And now he fights the dragon
Of an ideology
That seeks to reinvent the world
And up-end reality

But Saint George has his hood on
His chainmail and his flail
And he’ll take that sword to the cynics’ board
And remove the serpent’s tail
So to prove that truth can’t fail

What dragon of today 
Could singe that mighty heart?

Again and Again

 
mother, again and again I come to visit you
and each time I bring a fresh picked red rose with dew
the bus ride to the cemetery is hours long
and I have miles to go, so I hum your song

I will never forget "I'll be seeing you" was playing
on that horrible day that I ended your suffering
since then, I have been on a very long road
best to unplug said the doctors and how my tears flowed

now forlorn at your tomb I fall to my knees,
mother, how I miss you everyday, forgive me please
there is not a single day, a singe day mother
at least I have comfort that you are with father

you are at peace I hope with trees filigree
oh, my tears could fill the deep blue sea

___________________________
February 16, 2022


Poetry/Couplet/again and again
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1430-667-16
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France

Submitted to the Standard contest, A Strand (1075)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 02/17/2022

First Place

Beyond the Whimper

. for public domain

Let the flame of your life flicker,
flutter, tremble, smolder, snicker,
raise the eyebrows of a vicar,
raise it like a shot of liquor.

Wave it in somebody's face,
let them yearn for one more taste.
Singe the hairs so near the waist,
ignite a fire with your embrace.

For when our wax and wick are gone,
fires we start may yet live on,
light darkest hours before the dawn,
beyond the whimper, beyond the yawn.

Blood On the Brooch

Most of the time flowers will do.
Those gentlest of ambassadors
commissioned to disarm the caustic ego.
Trim burrs from misunderstandings.
Temper the burn of good intention gone awry...
To most they whisper of peace and love
they're brooch to the breast of forgiveness.

Conflict and Confusion often arise.  
when the blossom stompers arrive...
a brute cannot comprehend the language of flowers.
These are the times when powder must flash.
Bullets must strip the gold from its silence...
Blood must get the attention of the icy rain.
To glean a grain of humble from the ogre hearted,
who's every breath wishes to singe the garden.

Flicker

Misfortune is the fruit of a twisted tree
An endless abyss deafens my forlorn plea
Silence feeds on the passing of days  
Memories shine through my unending haze

Bittersweet tears drawn from eternal shame
The spoils of igniting a passionate flame 
Embers singe the spirit of the night 
A dulled gaze cannot break an all-seeing light

Ravenous consumption a moment too soon
Unfulfilled expectations for I am immune
Love born from an abstract heart
Failure distilled from an artificial art

Comfort resides in a fleeting thought
Pleasure’s wealth exists to be bought
Dejection and regret shall not enslave
Nothing commands the depths of my grave

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