Autumn weeps green cascades,
bone chilled usher omen for blazing trail of hues,
as mint fades
fall colours bloom,
singed red, golden flare, plum purple,
bright plume
sharp cold,
warm spells breed tints
bold
Autumn weeps green cascades,
singed red, golden flare, plum purple,
bold
Shameless boys and cigarette butts
Burnt my porcelain skin and singed my heart
Spent years betting on losing horses
Just to feel some dopamine
But oh, young Brenton, he had a charm
A voice of musk and a scent of vanilla
Strapped me onto long motorcycle rides
Oh, dear God, what'll he do next?
His caress, rebellion type of prowess
It nearly strained my lungs to death
The light of day may be ugly and stained
But with him, I'm in a long and deepened sleep...
It's as if I'm a corpse with movement
The way he numbs my labyrinth mind
Testing my senses of separation
Icy cold to heart, yet sizzling to touch
They are rufescent with fury.
Hissing stridently with horror,
They post words of wailing vigilance through
Parched gullets.
Glows run amok amid drunken spells of
Hysterical lustre
Fleeting shards of wobbling light
Pierce the earnestness of a grieving dawn,
Blinding the essence of insistent courage.
Early warm ruddy presence is
Dissolved by the warring flames of
Hostile tree-threads singed with hate from
Jungles that hoot, flee and crackle, fanning the
Embers of a fuming climate.
Love is a stranger,
I often knock on her door.
I leave bits of roses that linger
And wilt with the ones before.
Today I’ve placed a new rose
It looked back at me weeping
I pull away and feel the dread again start creeping.
A feeling you can’t put into prose.
I want to be enough for her
My fist pounds against glass,
My mind caves under all the pressure
I just need this to pass.
I sit, I pace, I beg her to let me in
Love draws the blinds
And leaves me with the sin.
Because the sin binds
And tethers me to another,
Thoughts of pulling away leads me to shutter.
Yet I pull the string of fate taut,
It starts to fray
Obsession plagues my thought
And forgets to obey
When I hear her laughter,
Deep from within
I know that what comes after
Leaves my heart singed.
"Verses in the Ash,"
is where my soul was born.
Where hot coals singed me,
as ashes covered my tiny body.
My soul was,
"Trapped in Your Pulse."
This body has me trapped,
as a helpless baby.
"I am the asylum of your ache,"
in time as it goes by so slowly.
"I taste your truth,"
the truth of life is bitter.
"Where orchids dream,"
is a place I wish I could live.
A place away from the hot ash and pain,
in a place of beauty with pretty orchids.
Zoltar moved in quietly,
carried up the stairs by no one
I remember seeing.
At night, his gears murmured
through the thin apartment wall~
a soft metallic prayer
to whatever listens in the dark.
Occasionally,
I heard his cards shuffle themselves~
paper whispering secrets
it should not know.
Sometimes his lights flickered
under my doorframe,
as if he’s pacing,
as if he’s thinking.
One night,
he slid a fortune under my door:
The visitor arriving tomorrow
died twelve years ago.
Another one follows:
Your shadow will leave you
before the week ends.
At dawn, the hallway smelt
of burnt incense and cold metal.
His lights flickered wildly,
as if he’s arguing with something
I cannot see.
Then a final card appeared~
edges singed, letters warped:
Do not open the door
when you hear your own voice.
Paint a smile on my face, until mid-poem
a grimace arises and the acrylic peels.
What are these dark angels that cast such shadows
over my cheer,
force my hand to sketch
the grim roots of charcoaled teeth?
The sun is struggling to rise over a pastured valley
while ravens pluck at my eyebrows.
Dark wings and meadow daisies mix and blend.
Death Head moths now emerge,
a word-canvas is once more lacquered over
by a dark and deep-throated coloring.
As quick as lightning, a clownish grin
flashes forth from singed paper,
such comic relief begets a portrait
of my surprised
and beamish laughter.
“Summer vibes shimmer in cold mind
with tepid touch of warmth”- Quote by poet
The crimson sun of demure dawn
burns to show summer hasn’t yet gone.
Sapphire sky at high noon still glows
with shining luster of its own.
From the horizon hot wind blows,
on smoldered leaves rippling warmth flows.
Parched trees sieve streaks of sunburst light,
ground weaves lattice of scorched shadows.
Southern zephyr of tinged twilight
wafts with vibrant hues of dusk bright.
Singed sky shimmers with color spree,
paints summer portrait of delight.
In calm air at nightfall I see
the dance of moondust with esprit.
The alcove of my enthralled mind
saves summer ambiance with glee.
for Holiday Humour Limerick Poetry Contest-Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
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the Christmas tree tinselled and trimmed
coloured lights hanging from its limbs
now the cat has lots to play
with the lights as bright as day
poor Mr puss, now all scorched and singed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I reached for it~
the way one gropes
for a light switch in an unfamiliar room,
fingers brushing the dark,
expecting edges, warmth,
but finding only air.
What was it?
A name half-whispered,
a key left dangling in a lock,
a joke without its punchline
dissolving into static.
Now it circles,
a moth with singed wings,
dizzying the periphery~
so close I taste its rust,
so far it might as well be
the shadow of a crow
passing over the sun.
I laugh, mostly to stop
the hollow in my ribs from echoing
the same old question:
What was I thinking?
But the mind is a sieve,
and some thoughts
are meant to slip through~
small, silver minnows
vanishing into deeper water.
We're all tinged by whole dull whinge binge
Cringe impinged by that losing cull twinge
Singed fans on fringe mull know does hinge
On our soul & sole syringe of flaming ginge
Alone
Each day, I journey
through the dense forest of time,
crossing the blurred edges of existence.
The trees, though strangers,
stand like kin.
Their silent grace reveals me to myself
in the lingering shadows of betrayed virtues.
Grief sits quietly at the window,
like a bird perched,
watching the world with indifference,
threaded into the steady, unrelenting stream of time.
The earth spins away beneath me,
and I remain solitary.
Sometimes, a flash of lightning
stirs my bones a tremble, a whisper of change,
as if the moment itself
might carry the soul elsewhere.
When the stars fade
into a dawn not yet born,
I will race into the darkness
at the speed of light,
leaving all that was mine behind:
this tender, scorched body,
singed by the embers of love.
Life, like a galloping horse
yet halts
in the blink of an eye
Between the slices of soul
frozen feelings configure
the lattice of desolation
with ashes of singed desire
that soar in a silent way.
Grant me rest under your lissome stems
Let me hide from the raindrops — shiny globules
That drip with tropical hauteur,
Rain that harms the ribs with cold rebukes.
Welcome me within your greenish lair, from
Your cane roots to your starry leaves —I insist on visiting
In your prime, so fresh with dew and so green, like
The envy in the gritty eyes of singed composts,
When waving rays of the shifting sun
Bathe the narrow venues formed by adjoining stems
Up, up and up the stairs and dome of the jungle.
I pray to shoot up with you and befriend the skies.
Oh, such elevation!
Fill my gourd with green wine;
Make me drunk with the spewing colours of life.
My heart is open to receive light —from misty dawn to
Dusk crowned with your blessing.
Let it rain on, I pray.
My palms are spread out like your leaves — I borrow the
Innocence of your frondescence.
Carve me flutes from your nodes, and, from them
Raise the cadences for summons, to be accompanied by
Drums fashioned by hands greased by the gifts of
The forests. . . .
Raise the joy, the frenzy, the tone of the ceremony
Raise, raise . . . upheave them
To royal heights — such as yours.
In crescendos and surges of light,
Beneath the somber, crimson sky,
Beyond the shadow's line,
He stretched his wings in haste
He found and swept an angels heart;
They shine and struck embrace
And onward flew the angels,
By crimson flame and flash
We simply stood and stared a while,
And heard the trumpets blast.
We saw it singed and scorched in light
And in the glow of golden blaze,
The past cannot declined.
No meaning slips away.
A love designed to last the years,
Will not be torn or taken,
A mother’s boy united,
A time for celebration.
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