With faith unshaken, a faith unburned
Achieves the dreams a heart once yearned
Thus, if you stumble on your way
Uncertainty to cause delay
Know that you have forsaken
Yourself, and faith once unshaken.
A life that's fading is a flame that's burning out,
I, a mortal, lament the departed soul.
Tobi Dike, your light extinguished—halfway unburned,
leaving us in darkness
—with only memories to hold.
We are all like candles—burning bright,
yet fragile
—our light shining edges closer to night.
Gradually, gradually, gradually, we vanish,
leaving only whispers
—shifting sands.
"Be kind, good, cautious" your words echo,
haunting whispers—guiding light in life's turbulent night.
The wise one says
—"a smooth sea does not make a skilled sailor."
Alas, sudden departure left us reeling, pained, lost,
yet legacy remains
—forever etched, museum of memories.
Your particle remains—testament to love, unity, light.
Tobi Dike, your light shines on comrades' hearts—
forever lit a seed of love, and unity's bond, planted in comradeship's soil.
The ancestors say
—"death is not the end, but a transition."
In time's relentless tide, your legacy stays—
a guiding star, shining bright
—through life's turbulent ways.
when love was scarce and bitter-spun,
i craved the warmth of anyone.
no silver spoons, no golden light —
just hungry hands that learned to fight.
i licked the steel of sharpened lies,
and swallowed tears in my disguise.
the blades that cut, the wounds they made —
became the price my heart had paid.
yet still, i sought what stars conceal —
a fragile hope that dared to heal.
through shadows deep and echoed cries,
i found the truth in shattered skies.
love is not kind to those who crawl,
it tempts, it breaks, it takes it all.
but in the dark, i found my name —
and rose unburned from blackened flame.
Fatal love
Love is life, love creates more love and lives
Love comes from life, love exists for new life
New lives come from love. Life is life and love
Not every time. Some of the love is strange fakes
Life interest, flirtatiousness, spiritual oppression
Lust of power, arrogance, spiritual destruction
Spiritual destruction with love; my dead children
My dead children are victims of Euthanasia
My fatal love destroyed my life; unburned children
Directly created life situation by EN psychology
My fatal love is really happy - she is Euthanasia
Hmm. But I don’t give up. I don’t give up
Life always gives me new and new choices
I will find someone, who gives me lives
Lives, what are us, and our future from the past
Love, love, family, family, children, children
I am praying. God will answer - No Euthanasia.
I loved a lady in Watford, a killer soul. Euthanasia.
She killed my years, my life, my children, my desire.
Hmm, Fatal love
Hmm, fake love
Hmm, It’s deleted.
God, give me…
A new love
Health love.
Lives come
Labyrinthine notions of complex emotions
break through the mind with a crack.
Vulnerable pains bubble up once again,
as the memories draw the strain back.
How far does one go before one truly knows
that an abhorrent mistake has been made?
That ideas pre-grown as crops would be sown,
only shudder, and crumble; degrade?
A gathering web; spreads through your head.
It corrupts with a touch like a plague.
No stone left unturned, no idea unburned.
Reformed, like your mind when it gave.
No where to run, each safe-house corrupted.
You did it yourself: the bed’s ready friend.
None come to aid, your life interrupted.
A reunion has come, the darkness again.
I’d followed the other path,
said “I love you” more,
left those bridges unburned,
forgot those grudges I bore,
hadn’t acted in jealousy,
forgot about envy,
Would the world be better,
if I had taken some secrets to my grave.
. for public domain
At first the Light was overwhelming,
no sense of self was found there dwelling,
no sense of end, and no beginning,
bright whirls only of endless spinning.
Gradually, a sense of self returned,
unscathed, unbounded, unburned.
Together with the Light it churned,
and both were one when we returned.
And now, neither one domineering,
and neither one found interfering,
we, blended as one, are pioneering
the blissful future we are steering.
you are afraid that seeming soft makes you weak, so you over compensate with anger and agression in order to appear fierce, so that you can feel as though you are strong, you feel that you cannot feel strong unless you have some sort of power over another, but i shall tell you, this is another kind of weakness, true strength is found in dignity and integrity, of simply being yourself, open and honest and without self deciet, a simple statement of who you are without any excuse or explanation, that is the true courage, to face yourself,to conquer your own inequities not those of others, to withstand the fire of self and emerge unburned, this is true strength, true courage, and true freedom from the shackles of self and others, in the freedom of being able to love yourself and others, without cause, without justification and without reason, this is the true freedom and joy of life.
Words Often Hurt
Written: by Tom Wright
March 2015
Evil thoughts germinate like sprouting seeds,
Once birthed, as words, they’re released toward targets,
As unmanned drones to seek and destroy;
While the intended quarry may escape these scathing words,
Inadvertent collateral damage
To the launch site has already occurred;
Words cannot be launched, as projectiles, toward another
Without feeling the backward escape of unburned powder;
Tom
An angel
Fell down
From hell
Today
His body unburned
With so much to say
He said the war was too much
And he wanted to try his luck
As a human and ask
For repentance
Get closer
To heaven
To pay his penance
The honorable way
Fool you are to find me again only for this
The shredding of the prism in the heart
The tearing of settled consolation apart
For it was only one night of frenzied heat
That piled us, drained us, emptied our sheet
Kissed me cold and trembling in the mist.
Fool I am to think a spot would change
Its lepeord, and yield me grass for home
The gate sees a stranger when we rome
For we cannot return as we went out still
But nothing breaks my old battered will
For I can hate as much as I love the strange
Fool we are with passion's white energy
Unburned, and yet was you who taught me
The bed is perpetuous unless we kiss, free
Of inhibition tumbling down the pain set
Against us now, too far to drip as foggy wet
And fool's pride brought in the tragedy
A Christmas Tale
When a child we had small live candles on the Christmas tree;
the fire service had a busy night. Mum had a bucket of water
by the tree and kept an eye on it as we children forgot.
The tree caught fire; my uncle was there, but before mum
could douse it he opened up a window, threw out the tree.
Not a smart move the curtains caught fire too and he had to
throw the curtains out as well; mum was furious with him.
Uncle a genial man worked on the docks and tended to react
before thinking. Blinds burning in the snow, uncle brought
back the tree plus the unburned decorations. But gifts under
were saved. Uncle had to buy new drapes when the shops
opened. Next year electric candles came on the market, and
our fire service was less busy, but my uncle had died; a bag
of rice fell into the icy harbour water, he dived after it forgot
he couldn’t swim.
One baby’s sleeping
By mother’s lullaby
His nose she’s clearing
Then she’ll wash the baby in a bay.
The baby has to wake up
And a helicopter’s flying by
The mother’s belly starts to move,
But she doesn’t know why,
And milk is pouring from the top,
And another love she has to prove.
The second unburned child,
Is the proof that love exists
And the baby’s very clean and wild,
Like a musician, he has fists.
Though the father us has left,
I don’t give a thing about the rest,
And the baby will always be mine
For I’m the mother and I’m fine!
Standing on a beam,
shrine :
holding a black dawn,
my phoenix roving on dark river.
The bell still clangs ;
I hear the footsteps.
A weird thought
spreads out on peripherals,
makes holes,
the undone communiqué
of a war
between knuckles ;
the blind eyes
lift the fallen globe
of light.
I move from tree to tree.
Who was left unburned ?
The sky was overcast.
SATISH VERMA
I've set our bridge on fire but I couldn't burn it down
some bridges can't be burned because they are made by love and love can't be burned away
because it is the strongest against enemies,fires,anything at all
when two people have that love,nothing can stop them
The bridge stays up unharmed,unburned
The Bridge stands across from the two lovers heart to heart,soul to soul
waiting to cross once more....
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.