The wood is burnt, but the ashes are a nuisance.
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Burnt to ashes
You burnt me, a wound of incomplete,
you remind me, a memory of indiscreet.
Deeply cut, all the way through my heart,
cold-blooded hands tearing me apart.
Mercilessly burnt, all the way to ashes,
move ahead steadily to the flashes...
My sore havoc is only yet to wreak,
and my days are yet to remain in bleak,
but my life seems to carry on,
with hope that despair shall be gone.
But shall despair feel my ominous envy?
Shall it be ungainly, to the hope of melancholy?
Oh I beg my soul, for you to leave,
Oh leave my lonliness spoken and grieve,
for you unhappy, unmerciful and unstill.
What great power lent you untill...
all my skin is burnt
all my feelings burnt
burnt, evermore, to ashes....
poem by Maya Hershey
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Ashes To Ashes
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Eaten by worms
And turned into mulch
Or burnt in a fire
And sprinkled on land
Maybe it’s the living
We don’t understand?
For death is quite simple
We’re here
Then we go
But where do we go to?
We shall never know.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What we call progress is the exchange of one nuisance for another nuisance.
quote by Havelock Ellis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What we call "Progress" is the exchange of one nuisance for another nuisance.
quote by Havelock Ellis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men are overbearing
Insurance agents are a nuisance.
Sales representatives are a nuisance.
We hate them for their overbearing.
Women also bars men on this count
09.05.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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Brimstone... ' (or A Cryptic-Cremation)
Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
Flesh and Blood
Wood and Mud
Sun and Moon
Craters and Crust
Flames to Ashes
Smoke to Dust
Ape and Man
Heart and Brain
Glass and Sand
Abel and Cain
Spend this Space
On this Earth
Cutting Down
Another’s Worth
So Much Hate
On World and Planet
Trying to Paint
And Stain Pearls and Granite
‘Til, Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
Stop Thinking, ’ Iron Them ’
Start Thinking, ‘ Wash Us ’
Fire On Mountain
Flows Volcanic Ash
Fire and Sand
Equals House of Glass
Dirt On Fire
Smother ‘Fore Long
And Fire and Rock
Equals Brimstone
poem by MoonBee Canady
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From the holy fire that should never die (rondine)
From the holy fire that should never die
men were send to sabotage, maim and kill
to poison, plant landmines with a deadly skill
until flaming rockets fell out of the sky,
rising up did burning wood and ashes fly
that made the glowing embers move and spill
from the holy fire.
Armed soldiers were not just driving by,
armoured cars came roaring over the hill,
screaming death until everything was still
burnt out did the last old white embers lie,
from the holy fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ashes
it took ashes...
for me to draw
a picture of your living
in black and white...
yet containing all
the colors of your being...
it took ashes...
for me to lay down
all my wants and desires,
and the fear of losing you...
it took ashes...
for me to quit pretending
that this kingdom
is invincible...
and this island will remain...
it took ashes...
for me to taste
death's lips and
still surrender to
each naked tick of living...
it took ashes...
for me to be
honest with myself...
to let go of the reins,
and stand free
on the shore of tomorrow!
it took ashes...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Premature Rejoicing
What's that over there?
Thiepval Wood.
Take a steady look at it; it'll do you good.
Here, these glasses will help you. See any flowers?
There sleeps Titania (correct - the Wood is ours);
There sleeps Titania in a deep dugout,
Waking, she wonders what all the din's about,
And smiles through her tears, and looks ahead ten years,
And sees the Wood again, and her usual Grenadiers,
All in green,
Music in the moon;
The burnt rubbish you've just seen
Won't beat the Fairy Queen;
All the same, it's a shade too soon
For you to scribble rhymes
In your army book
About those times;
Take another look;
That's where the difficulty is, over there.
poem by Edmund Blunden
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Burning Bride
A Blooming flower
Dancing in sunshine
Burnt to Ashes
poem by Shobha Nair
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Ashes
(lonnie wilson/chris waters/charlotte wilson)
Ashes
Hes nothing but ashes
No feelings have lasted
No love remains
Ashes
Thats all that our past is
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
I saw your face when
He waltzed in here
But those old embers
Havent burned for years
The light thats shining
In my eyes
Is for the one that
Im with tonight
Ashes
Hes nothing but ashes
No feelings have lasted
No love remains
Ashes
Thats all that our past is
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
No I dont blame you
For having some doubts
But when he left me
That fire burned out
So dont be thinking
Theres still a spark
cause he could never
Tear us apart
Ashes
Hes nothing but ashes
No feelings have lasted
No love remains
Ashes
Thats all that our past is
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
Hes nothing but ashes
From a cold old flame
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song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phoenix
A dream of the whole age
Is hidden only in one kiss,
What should I tell in which hearth I placed
The wood of fate-line of the palm,
And turned it into ashes.
Your agony like phoenix
Gets rebirth from ashes,
And resides in my inner-being.
One kiss that composes my life,
Every evening I placing it on my lips,
Entrust to an eye of imagination,
And come into life again and again.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Hogtied
Separate your heart from your soul, can you?
Liberate your mind from your form, would you?
Would you like to be thrown to the wind, ashes to ashes?
Or buried with the worms, dirt to dirt?
Perhaps burnt upon the stake, hogtied in agony, bound
or set out upon emotion, to drowned beneath the waves.
You know your love it's your saving grace, locate it if you can
is it the left half of my chest, does it lie within the palm of my hand?
Its mine to give, my life to live, my choice to forgive, to forget
would you let it slide?
Could you?
Should I?
poem by David Lacey
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As the kindled fire consumes the fuel, so in the flame of wisdom the embers of action are burnt to ashes.
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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My first love
I have cut off at least a thousand heads of Hydra
But I am still fighting with it
I wish I were Hercules
Throughout my youth
I was mesmerized by the nymphs
Now I have realized it was just
Waste of my most precious time
My first love was burnt to ashes
Like the phoenix
Now the ashes are turning into
My love once again
But the dragons are destroying
My sweet dreamland
By blowing with their mouths
Wild firestorms
Now my brain is haunted by the ghosts
They try to scare me to death
Now I am like Adonis
Venus has hurt me by her weapons
Wherever my blood drops fall
Blooms anemones of love poetry
poem by Asif Andalib
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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
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