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Desirable Fire?
Life is said to be filled with fire
It is the one that fuels every desire
To be on top of a high rise
To win at every price
As if breaking the rules becomes a behavior
A spark ignites a fire and breaks the barrier
We grow, we triumph and we inspire
It is fire in us that makes other perspire
Right from the genesis
Fire has been the basis
The fire from the sky
The fire the earth spurts by
Each and every time it's the fire that revives n destroys
Which makes the cardinal rule, only d toughest survive
Fire makes the dew, fire makes the ice
Fire makes everyone pay their due price
Fire is the end, it is the life
It beings and ends everybody's strive
poem by Blossom Mist
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Banking Coal
Whoever it was who brought the first wood and coal
To start the Fire, did his part well;
Not all wood takes to fire from a match,
Nor coal from wood before it’s burned to charcoal.
The wood and coal in question caught a flame
And flared up beautifully, touching the air
That takes a flame from anything.
Somehow the fire was furnaced,
And then the time was ripe for some to say,
“Right banking of the furnace saves the coal.”
I’ve seen them set to work, each in his way,
Though all with shovels and with ashes,
Never resting till the fire seemed most dead;
Whereupon they’d crawl in hooded night-caps
Contentedly to bed. Sometimes the fire left alone
Would die, but like as not spiced tongues
Remaining by the hardest on till day would flicker up,
Never strong, to anyone who cared to rake for them.
But roaring fires never have been made that way.
I’d like to tell those folks that one grand flare
Transferred to memory tissues of the air
Is worth a like, or, for dull minds that turn in gold,
All money ever saved by banking coal.
poem by Jean Toomer
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Quick
Quick to dismiss,
That which is misunderstood.
And quick to do this often.
Because one can and could.
Quick to define something wrong.
Quick to complain about it,
All day long.
Quick to sit to nitpick and pull apart.
As if this quickness was intended from the start.
Quick to resist a comprehension that exist.
Quick to allow a temper tantrum fit.
Quick to whip up excuses...
And split to disappear.
Quick to discover the nearest exit!
That's what troublemakers do...
When they stir up others in raging fits!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Its Name Is Love.....
Of all
elements
i love fire
and i keep it
everywhere
look at me
there is fire in my eyes
feel my hands
there is fire
growing in my fingers
lay your head
upon my shoulders
there will be
fire in your
hair
kiss my lips
you shall eat my fire
burning in there
continuously
put your body
above mine
you shall be
dry wood
of my fireplace
in winter
and i shall burn you
forever
and you shall
love it
for this fire
burns
but we shall never
be consumed
no one is charred
nothing is marred
there is no
ash
neither potash
let me name
this fire
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Name Is Love.....
Of all
elements
i love fire
and i keep it
everywhere
look at me
there is fire in my eyes
feel my hands
there is fire
growing in my fingers
lay your head
upon my shoulders
there will be
fire in your
hair
kiss my lips
you shall eat my fire
burning in there
continuously
put your body
above mine
you shall be
dry wood
of my fireplace
in winter
and i shall burn you
forever
and you shall
love it
for this fire
burns
but we shall never
be consumed
no one is charred
nothing is marred
there is no
ash
neither potash
let me name
this fire
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Build A Fire (lenny Dee Remix)
Pulled up to rest, let the engine cool awhile.
Open the beans, gather wood for the fire.
I hum this tune, to all the girls I've known.
Should I care, about the chances I've blown?
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
They're gonna build a fire
They're gonna build a fire
When daylight breaks, I'll be down that road.
Rockman 'an me, with a lighter load.
We'll stop fo r lunch, in some taco bar.
Lee Marvin on the jukebox, 'Wanderin Star'.
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
song performed by by KLF
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Build A Fire
Pulled up to rest, let the engine cool awhile.
Open the beans, gather wood for the fire.
I hum this tune, to all the girls Ive known.
Should I care, about the chances Ive blown?
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Theyre gonna build a fire
Theyre gonna build a fire
When daylight breaks, Ill be down that road.
Rockman an me, with a lighter load.
Well stop for lunch, in some taco bar.
Lee marvin on the jukebox, wanderin star.
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
song performed by by KLF
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young People
Young people gather wood, rather rotten wood,
Relaxing as can be, relishing the coal of the fire;
They wait until death has arrived, on their doorstep,
When steps are taken to disturb the real fire of life.
Youth is spending a youth, young men and women,
All of them are splendid in jobs, worthwhile endeavour.
We space our life around the stages we encounter,
The young heart masters a new strategy, feeling good
About the way we wonder and wander, like burning wood.
The heart of red blood felt all right,
But young hearts defend themselves.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Cause of Enmity between Snake and Man
Snake, the first owner of fire.
Dog, the robber of fire.
Man the last owner of fire.
The snake gave birth first to fire.
Thus fire, the first born of snake.
Thus snake, only owner of fire long ago.
One cold evening
The man dying of coldness
The dog seen it master dying of coldness
It went to snake house and begged
The snake, the mother of fire to let
It tail get warm of fire
The snake cordially welcomed the dog
The dog twisted it tail on fire
The tail caught the fire
The dog jumped over the snake in door
Ran quickly to it master, the man
The man took the grass and wood
And lit up the fire
The fire lit up in man’s house
And it extinguished in snake’s house
The snake come to get fire back
But the man attack the snake
The hostility between man and snake
Began then
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Fate determines
Fire is there; Wood is there.
Air is there. There’s no catch of fire.
The distance interferes.
Air must turn a wind
And push the wood to catch fire.
I am here; you are there.
Love is there. There’s no catch of desire.
The valley interferes.
Love must turn wind
And thrust me to quench your desire.
It is left to the fate.
06.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Watch
I wakened on my hot, hard bed;
Upon the pillow lay my head;
Beneath the pillow I could hear
My little watch was ticking clear.
I thought the throbbing of it went
Like my continual discontent,
I thought it said in every tick:
I am so sick, so sick, so sick;
O death, come quick, come quick, come quick,
Come quick, come quick, come quick, come quick.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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The Watch
I wakened on my hot, hard bed;
Upon the pillow lay my head;
Beneath the pillow I could hear
My little watch was ticking clear.
I thought the throbbing of it went
Like my continual discontent;
I thought it said in every tick:
I am so sick, so sick, so sick:
O death, come quick, come quick, come quick,
Come quick, come quick, come quick, come quick...
poem by Barry Cornwall
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Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
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My Heart is Catching Fire
The flames are getting higher
I am full of desire
The rain drops can't tame the fire
Your eyes send spark
It makes the flames stronger
Your red lipstick
Melts my heart
The way you walk and wiggle
Makes the flame get hotter
The way you giggle
adds fuel to the fire
I am full of desire
I ask for mercy and have kisses
To cool the fire
Hugs that will extinguish the fire
poem by Sherif Monem
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Nature Girl
Her hands make rainbows
She lifts her right foot and makes snow
Hair head tilted back makes
wood-land creatures come
And her dress makes flowers bloom
from april showers
poem by Carrie Dixon
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Indians are plenty smart. We catch small wood. Build small fire. Stand close and stay warm all over. White men not so smart. They catch big wood. Build big fire. Stand far away, burn face and freeze ass.
quote by Henry Seely
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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