Under Fire(P) Poems - Poems about Under Fire(P)

Wild swathes of manic hues struck ghostly angst in me a fireball ambience ensued and my banshee wail at bright splodge ink sky shattered stained glass moon’s glee...

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Atop the edge where silence leans, A figure stands — the dusk between. No name, no face the canvas shows, Just wind that hums what no one knows. The sky explodes in molten fire, A final gasp of day's desire. It stains the clouds in crimson breath, A masterpiece that flirts with death. Does he await or does he grieve? Or dream of flight...

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The wind stood still, the stars held breath, Two voices rose in life and death. One whispered start, one thundered close, Each pulled the soul where no one knows. Beginning sang with morning light: "Come rise with me, embrace the fight. Your dreams are seeds; they’ve just been sown— Why fear the path you’ve never known?" End replied in velvet tone: "But peace is...

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In the sacred sacrificial fire we burn, first and foremost all the objects we desire, purifying thoughts flowing in body urn, consigning doership to the funeral pyre, that thus in silence watching nodes within churn, there are no earth bound goals for which we aspire, whereupon in this way we become the flame, fulfilling in staid mindfulness our life’s aim....

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Wild streams of rushing hues daub black ink smudge skies fireballing ambience stuns night peepers dazed eyes blazing forest scorched shades mute charcoal moon’s deep cries...

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weathering Wales in bleak winter is hard though starred sheep remain sleek taverns roaring fires a feat making Celtic maidens sweet ~~~~~~~ ...

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(This is only my opinion, only written to promote calm discussion or debate. I know nothing, am not an expert on anything. If you are easily Religiously riled, spiritually offended, do not read this. Period.) The Devil is smart, subtle; he can control one without the controlled being remotely aware. He can appear beautiful...

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Fire-Fly Stars I Always Wanted To Be A Scientist. Someone Asked Me Once: Aren’t You? *** What I Really Wanted To Be Was A Polar Bear Lusting A Powerful Musk With All Effort, With A Sure Un-Certain Purpose. *** Or I Would Be Huddled Under Some Mass Of Reeds In A Cavern Crouched Over A Silver Beam Of Light… And The Echo Everlasting Of One Drop Of Purity… Landing In A Honed Stone Bowl. *** And I Wanted To Be Worthless Like Every Component Choice… Like Every...

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whatever is transient we let go attachments, fears, desires rooted in ego thoughts are dualistic spirals of illusion they but birth dream forms cause of delusion organic form is dust God dwells in each heart we all are one who should we deem apart sensory pleasure is embraced and released God’s light is the treasure with which heart is pleased love’s benign bliss burn Divine Mother’s kiss illumines body...

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The fire was an obvious choice of landscape art for the painter to accentuate the effect between moonlight and smoke filled sky so dark. A canvas illuminating the power of vivid red hot to stark. Depicted the conditions, unbearable and the growing flames are fanned by the breeze. The artist gives life to the power of fire creating...

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FIRE the Immortal Fire the Immortal—primordial breath, Kindled in chaos, a twin flame of death. Born in the forge where the cosmos ignites, It dances through nebulae, seeding the night. With tongues of plasma and fusion-fed might, It devours the dark, gives birth to the light. Fueling the stars in their hydrogen blaze, A crucible shaping the eons and days. It dines upon carbon,...

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Matsuo Basho: English translations of haiku about winter, snow, snowball, home, fire, children, fun, frost, hail, fish, ice fishing. The year’s first snowfall; such happiness to be at home in my hut. —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Fire-making friend, let me show you something grand: a huge snowball! —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Written for Basho’s dear friend Sora, who...

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Matsuo Basho: English translations of Haiku about autumn, fall, falling, trees, leaves, leaving, goodbye, rice, moon, moonlight, words. Reverential tears: the falling leaves bid their trees goodbye. —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Plates and bowls gleaming dimly in the darkness: evening coolness. —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Twice the pity: beneath the headless helmet, a chirping cricket. —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R....

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her mind a box of melted crayons her hands a vista of fire magic wands raked over ...

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Civilisation's got me down taking me to the tail of my tether driving me round the bend I'm not going to stick it out to see where it will end I'll do my best to regress back to the stone age cook on fire paint the walls sit on rocks keep my cool do what I have to when nature calls humanity gets my goat making...

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