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Where Is The Fire?
Where is the fire
That burnt in freedom fighters
Making them selfless
Dying for our independence
Where is the fire
That burnt in J.M and Ouko
And others who were felled
Making them love truth
For it, paying the ultimate price
Where is the fire
That burnt in the then leaders
Making them fearless
Suffering for multiparty politics
Where is the fire
That burnt in civil rights activists
The poor peoples defenders
And others who attended kamukunjis
Where is the fire
That burnt individualism
In dire times of crises
Where is the fire?
poem by Kelvin Karani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tiger
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And What shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
poem by William Blake
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The Tyger
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Tiger by William Blake
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
And the Bairns Will Come
So you’ve seen at last what we have seen so long through scalding tears:
You have found what we—the People—we have known for twenty years:
And Australia’s hymn is swelling till the furthest fence-wires hum—
Save your country, Legislators—and the bairns will come.
You would put the blame upon us—we are women, we are men;
And our fathers and our mothers gave the country nine and ten.
They had honest work and wages, and the ways to win a home—
Give us half the chances they had—and the bairns will come.
Try the ranks of wealth and fashion, ask the rich and well-to-do,
With their nurseries and their nurses and their children one and two,
Will they help us bear the burden?—but their purse-proud lips are dumb.
Let us earn a decent living—and the bairns will come.
Young men, helpless in the city’s wheel of greed that never stops,
Tramp the streets for work while sweethearts slave in factories and shops.
Shall they marry and bear children to their parents’ martyrdom?
Make the city what it should be—and the bairns will come.
Shall we give you sons and daughters to a life of never-rest,
Sacrificing all for nothing in the desert of the West,
To be driven to the city’s squalid suburb and the slum?
Make the city what it should be—and the bairns will come.
Don’t you hear Australia calling for her children unconceived?
Don’t you hear them calling to her while her heart is very grieved?
Give the best land to the farmers, make the barren West a home,
Save the rainfall, lock the rivers—and the bairns will come.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Not Threaten Me With Fire My Love
do not threaten me with the fire of your body my love
for i am a man born of fire and shall die of fire
i eat fire, i bathe in fire, i swim in the deepest part of fire
i like to burn in the fire that you start
from your flicker, from the flints of your gaze
i like to see this hearth, this warmth, this conflagration
you with me burning like hell
do not threaten me with the fire of your thighs
for i eat fire, my body is fire, it is alive with its heat
my sweat are the smokes of fire
my end is the char that stays beside your legs
and tomorrow morning when i finally die
when i am put off by your power
you shall find me as burnt residues
beneath your feet
i am the offering of love to life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Ash
do not threaten me with the fire of your body my love
for i am a man borne of fire and shall die of fire
i eat fire, i bathe in fire, i swim in the deepest part of fire
i like to burn in the fire that you start
from your flicker, from the flints of your gaze
i like to see this hearth, this warmth, this conflagration
you with me burning like hell
do not threaten me with the fire of your thighs
for i eat fire, my body is fire, it is alive with its heat
my sweat fumes are the smokes of fire
my end is the char that stays beside your legs
and tomorrow morning when i finally die
when i am put off by your power
you shall find me as burnt residues
beneath your feet
i am ash
the offering of love to life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Roots
Roots natty roots
Dread binghi dread
I and I are the roots
Some are the dry wood
Fe catch up the fire
Whoa, lo ok at that
They need some dry wood
To cook up the raw food
Whoa, look at that
I got to survive
Inna dis man maniac downpression
Got to survive
In iration, yeah
Roots natty roots
Dread binghi dread
Remember that I and I are the roots
Some are wolf
Inna sheeps clothing
Whoa, look at that
Many are called
But only a few are chosen
Whoa, look at that
Nothing that dividers can do
Cant seperate us from our father
Whoa, look at that
You see, blood is thicker than water
Whoa, look at that
Got to survive
Inna disyah ghetto, yeah
Roots natty roots
Dread binghi dread
Remember that I and I are the roots
Roots natty roots
Dread binghi dread
Whoa, I and I are the roots
Some are leaves
While some are branches
But remember I and I are the roots
Some are dry wood
Fe catch up the fire
Whoa, look at that
Got to survive
Inna dis man maniac downpression
Got to survive
In iration
Roots natty roots
Dread binghi dread
Hey, I and I are the roots
Ooh we, roots natty roots
Dread binghi dread
Oh yeah, I and I are the roots
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pirate's Prayer
Marekd to be alone.
And my eyes are closed.
Drown and separate.
For sakes of discernment.
Walk with the broken pieces.
They do not say a word.
They speak not a word to the broken sea.
Not burnt by fire.
Or pulled by the flood.
They come to rest in crimson pools of blood.
Guided by the wind.
Not burnt by the fire.
Not pulled by the flood.
They come to rest (alone
song performed by by Zao from Parade Of Chaos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catching Fire
Glowing embers, remnants of a world past.
Life is dying, its energy expiring fast.
The last hope for life to survive is fading out and we're stuck drowning in a sea of doubt!
-
Burnt out timber, shadows of what use to be.
Lord God! Start a fire inside me!
So many are burnout, no fire left, to our flaking ashes we cleft.
-
Someone needs to ignite the fire, bring us back to life!
Keep us alive, don't let the darkness suffocate the light:
So many of us, burnt-out, dead, and alone, We need fire in the bones!
-
We're sitting here, waiting for someone to catch fire-dying-
Sitting here warming benches, not even trying.
By our lack of faith, we condemn ourselves to die!
-
Waiting for God to move, but God has already done so.
While we're stalling, he's calling us to go!
But we're waiting for fire, that's already here, but we won't commit because of our fear.
-
Haunted by a fear of the unknown, that we can't survive.
We sit and kill, the very life we're trying to revive.
Waiting for someone else to move, with the blame on our heads, we refuse to push ahead.
-
If you don't move, and he besides you doesn't move,
Who's going to keep the fire, that runs this world, tell me who?
So I'm catching fire, hoping others catch fire with me: catching fire to set men free, are you with me?
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Play With Fire
I gave up,
up on you,
because you,
hurt me badly.
What's the point,
in trying for,
something that will,
hurt me?
like they say,
'don't play with fire,
for if you do,
you'll get burnt.'
They were right,
I see it now,
so I give up,
I've been burnt enough.
You say that,
you were hurt too,
but I don't see,
your burn marks.
poem by Katherine Bryce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The guardian of the flames
Always there have been
something holy to me,
about flames
that comes alive suddenly.
It’s a great thing
to see flames spread
and to see yellow licking tongs,
consume wood
and to get heat, energy
and comfort from it.
At a time human existence
surely depended on
keeping the secret
of flames
and to make sure,
that the last glowing coals
do not die.
When I was a child,
my brother and me
almost burnt a hillock
and some residences down
by misadventure.
The more I tried to kill
the small fire,
that I started in the long brown winter grass,
the more the fire spread.
It’s a fact that my behind
also burnt on that occasion
from a hiding
with a old fan belt
and I learned quickly,
what the power of fire is
and how to act responsibly with matches.
Tonight I am the guardian of the flames
at the fireplace in the lounge
and I take care of the hot coals
and have to put wood on
before the fire dies.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Fire Player
Ive been burnt so bad
But I still play with fire
Sometimes naked truth
Is what I cant believe in
It burns my soul
But I keep going back
Why must I believe
All your lies
When I cant even
Accept the truth
Fight fire with fire
Someone will be burned
And hopefully that one
Will be you
poem by Allison Unknown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Carnation
there is nothing more attractive
as a defense of pretense
than a red carnation in the pocket of
my black suit
it is the fire that catches you
and here i am
appearing as your cage of love
you expect more fire in this
you are more beautiful now as you finally taste
ash and feel the powder of burnt
skin.
there is no fire in me
not anymore none anymore
there is only this oblivion
see it and leave me i am bothered no more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Light of the Fire
As the daytime sun draws closer to rest
The light still lingers
The loving heat of a sun loved bliss turning cold
My heat refrained by my fire
My fire now alight
The crackle and snap of the wood so burnt
It provides my heat that the day sun will not
My friend in this increasing darkness
My companion whilst I tread upon my thoughts and memories
My item of the real world in my abundance of life
I see in my mind a many things lit by my fire
My friends the ones whom shall never judge me only love me
My partner the one who I shall always love and hope she does in return
My family particular to my cousins so young and unprepared
Waiting for me to help them through
And also my enemies the people who would hurt me and I would be happy to hurt in return
But I smile upon them, for if not for them how would I know what trust is
All my thoughts relate to a fire as for one spark and the whole thing can be burnt
But without the burning of flames ignited how would I live my Life?
Time to return now to tend my fire large it has grown such has life
Both need tending to see them continue and to keep me warm and satisfied for at least a bit longer.
poem by Daniel Laurence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cockatoo Twelve Years On '1995
It's been more than twelve years so they tell me since the flames of death passed through
Since the fire that caused destruction burnt it's way through Cockatoo
Lives were lost and houses burnt down blackened miles of countryside
And people wept for lost possessions for their life time work destroyed.
Tears for houses burnt to ashes, tears for lives lost in fierce flame
Tears for trees and paddocks blackened some say 'fire bug '
was to blame
Cockatoo a place of mourning only blackness to be seen
Only smell of smoke and burn out not one sign of Nature's green.
Twelve years on things seem so different Cockatoo looks green today
And who'd believe if you had not known that huge fire had burnt this way
Some still talk of their great losses and the hardships they'd been through
But they recovered built new houses and still live in Cockatoo.
Nature is her own best healer, Nature the true friend of man
Blackness caused by fire and burn out only last for a brief span
Cockatoo is one example what a change twelve years can bring
On green gum tree by the rail track i can hear the shrike thrush sing.
Here in cockatoo this morning fresh and pure the mountain air
Green the trees and green the paddocks green as i've seen anywhere
Twelve years back a blackened wasteland see how green she looks today
Nature is her own best healer and nature always has her way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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There was a man who fought fire with fire
There was a man
Who fought fire with fire
When it came to the sexual art
And he was no stranger to being burnt
And the burning of others.
It was par for the course
Do unto other
And he did time and time again
Until the fire caught him unprepared
By something as simple as a rubber
And now as his body grows thin
So to do his flame flutter in a thin wind
Of a body under attack.
poem by David E. Patton
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Shiva's Third Eye
gods sin against God
betray creation
break covenant
Shiva's third eye opened
fire burnt out by Fire
Agni defiled sexact
outraged love in action
sacrileged union
they still peep in privacy
fear fire, question freedom
dictate codes for Love
worship lingam
forget Shiva
poem by R.K. Singh
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Silent fire
Silent Fire
Is what she is
Sizzling and burning
In her own silent hell
She dreamt dreams
Sweet and comforting
Not until,
The fire burnt them
No ashes remained
Her soft voice
A dragons lullaby
Her dance
Leaping high and low
Blinding any fool
Foolish enough
to try
to look deep
into her fire
Of a million colours
But should you survive
Maybe you can save her?
Risk your soul?
Risk your life?
To save
A friend,
A lover,
A sad little girl,
From her silent fire?
poem by Racina Rodriguez
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A Fire Within My Heart (Vengeance)
There is a fire in my soul, it has burnt me to the bone
There is a fire in my heart, it has melted flesh to stone
There is an inferno in my breast, it rages out of control
There is a firestorm in my chest, it has consumed my being whole
There is a fire in my heart, it has melted flesh to stone
There is a rage with in my soul, vengeance will by my own
There is a burning in my mind, for death I am hell-bent
There is a desire in my conscious, filled with devilish intent
There is a fire within my soul, and it rages just for you
This fire burns with anger, may it guide my sword hand true.
poem by Tim Vallie
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