The Fires of Love
The fires of love
can burn out so easily
if they are not tended that well.
They need nurturing and fed
to sustain the passion well.
The fires of love
will smoulder and die
if the coals are not stoked
every once in a while
to sustain passions glow.
The fires of love
are not only for the youth.
Even in age we mellow,
we must still let the embers know
the fire burns within the passions well.
(19 August 2011)
poem by David Harris
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The Great Fires
Love is apart from all things.
Desire and excitement are nothing beside it.
It is not the body that finds love.
What leads us there is the body.
What is not love provokes it.
What is not love quenches it.
Love lays hold of everything we know.
The passions which are called love
also change everything to a newness
at first. Passion is clearly the path
but does not bring us to love.
It opens the castle of our spirit
so that we might find the love which is
a mystery hidden there.
Love is one of many great fires.
Passion is a fire made of many woods,
each of which gives off its special odor
so we can know the many kinds
that are not love. Passion is the paper
and twigs that kindle the flames
but cannot sustain them. Desire perishes
because it tries to be love.
Love is eaten away by appetite.
Love does not last, but it is different
from the passions that do not last.
Love lasts by not lasting.
Isaiah said each man walks in his own fire
for his sins. Love allows us to walk
in the sweet music of our particular heart.
poem by Jack Gilbert
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Fire
There are many things we call a fire.
The ones we light to keep us warm.
The fire that burns within our heart
whenever we fall in love.
There are the fires of passion
that ignite within our soul.
There fires can burn eternally
and we feel them everyday.
All the fires that burn around and within us,
burn throughout all the days of our lives.
12 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Love Sonnet 15: I feel love's fires smoulder very intense,
I feel love's fires smoulder very intense,
Which could go on blazing in coming years,
Whilst so, your eyes I did see recompense,
Moments we spent in loneliness and tears;
Embers, there will be none for us to keep,
As flame of love will burn without abate,
Like stars that shine eternal as we sleep,
Nary will they, to ashes decimate;
Yet warmth is felt though glow is yet unseen,
Passion of ours rages so strong within,
Endure they would, until forever, keen,
To love and keep loving, through thick and thin;
.........Unlike candles that on their wax subsist,
.........My love will burn as long as souls exist.
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Fire Burns! Fire Burns!
If you like you can enquire
There are rings of fire
There are hearts on fire
There are desert, grass and bush fires
Burning with a red hot rage on a different stage
They burn and mature that one can only admire
O! Fire O! Fire
My heart is on fire
Inside my soul a little flame has transpired
Have my words mis-fired while I speak of fire?
Fire burns like a scorching red-hot sun
And when fire burns its impact is sometimes no fun
Fire burns! Fire burns!
People die, people cry, people sigh
Fire run, run and run
Let's take turns to run before we turn into a bun
When you play with fire your hands will burn
When you lay with fire, heads will surely turn
Fire burns! Fire burns!
A hand pulls a gun and fires
A man goes to work and gets fired
And while I tire, I ask myself am I a liar?
For I speak of the uncontrollable forest fires
That cannot be announced by any town crier
A little spark
A brittle panic attack
A burning flame
A red-hot blaze
In seconds fire can take out an entire space
Fire burns! Fire burns!
And while the fire transpires
I can see the fire in your eyes
A hot passionate desire that flies and flies
And the fire burns and burns
Run, run and run for heads will turn
And the heat will rise like the scorching sun
Fire burns! Fire burns!
I ask silently for a ceasefire
For fire only ignites to inspire more misery
And out of that misery are born some high fliers
Run, run and run for heads will turn
And whatever burns can never be undone
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Fireman
When fire sits on top of the head
Smoke can hardly enter the nostrils
Feet walking on coals
And fire bugs bite
The fireman loves
He puts on the axe in hand
Better than class rings
Even other rings
Fires burn when they do a job
How the man can burn without
Restriction can burn a man about
Head to toe
The soul is made pure by fire
Man loves to burn
It is even his desire
Afterwards he must
Needs be tended to
If not
The fire has yet a job to do
To burn a man through and through
If so
Hold him dear
In the fire he bore many tears
In this fashion
He lives all his years
What is fire?
It's much like Our Father
Or yet
He be the fireman
And we on fire
poem by Deci Hernandez
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Fire-Time
He walked toward her
a fire-stick in his hand
and spoke softly.
'This is fire
my gift to you.
It is safety from wild animals;
heat for your food;
romance for your life;
Igniter of Passion;
The Secret Furnace
which fuels the Sun;
the Starry Blanket
which covers the night;
the Milky Way which burns
hot-blue.
The Heart's Flame
is Cobalt Fire too.
She touched his fire-stick
and felt the burn.
He grabbed her singed hand
and kissed it
saying:
Fire too
burns
human things;
Passion too
sears souls.
'But how, ' she said,
'shall I know fire which heals
from Stinging Fire which
burns my soul? '
'How can I be sure my fire
is safe fire,
that all my passions
are healing flames
and not destructive ones? '
He, said 'Fire is like touch;
go close enough to feel the warmth
but don't press too much
or the skin recoils.
Fire is like two kissing lips;
go close enough to feel the heat
but pressure too much
you chip the teeth.
Fire is like making love;
it can sweep you away
but be sure Fire's Orbit
brings you back
ensuring sure you don't get too close to the burning Sun.
When young be the bubble-bee sampling nectar,
not the moth obsessed with flames.
Use fires' heat
but regard more its light;
for Fire is both;
heat is good
light is knighted.
Fire correctly lit
is a balm of both
and allows Love and Lovers
to survive.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Fires Of Eden
Its not over till its over
I heard someone say
Must be a whisper in the wind
cause youre too far away
But in my restless sleep
I could swear I saw you next to me
Saying oh, Im coming home
Youll never spend another night alone
Chorus:
Remember when love was innocent
There was never a better time
But you know those fires of eden
Still burn in this heart of mine
The mornings uncertain
Its a nervous day
And I look for a reason
Why I should feel this way
I hear a voice run before
Drifting through my open door
Saying its alright
Were going to light those flames tonight
Chorus
Remember when love was freedom
We knew we were two of a kind
But you know those fires of eden
Still burn in this heart of mine
And dont you wonder
How we drifted so far
When we belong to each other
Oh we were miles apart
And theres a place
That was meant for the two of us
And when you touch the embers
You feel my love
As strong as it ever was
Chorus
Remember when love was freedom
We knew we were two of a kind
But you know those fires of eden
Still burn in this heart of mine
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You, Darkness
You, darkness, that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone
and then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything-
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! -
powers and people-
and it is possible a great presence is moving near me.
I have faith in nights.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Fires Of Our Dreams
In the fires of our dreams,
we burn our desires away.
Among the ashes that we scatter
old and distant loves lay.
In the warmth of the raptures,
we hold our youth’s accolade
clinging to forgotten pleasures
we once used to seek.
We erase the traces
of conquests we wish we made
with removal of errant faces
from the corners of our mind.
We scatter them to the four winds
for now and all time
in the fires of our dreams,
we burn our desires away.
15 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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Embers Still Glow
Some fires still burn
long after the flames have died;
their embers still glow
after the years have flown.
It only takes a spark
to ignite an old flame
from the vault of our memories
and make love bloom again.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Fire On the Ridge
In the west there is fearsome fire in the hills.
Full of dread, the people watch as flames burn upon the ridge.
Fierce winds fan the fury where the fires singe.
Meanwhile there’s hot air blasting forth from high upon the hill,
Pointless wind aimed at stirring some futile acts of men.
Strong winds fan the flames.
Embers ignite the blaze again.
While homes are lost across the land,
A burning night gives way to the dawn of restless men.
Rhetoric fails to charm while flames move across the land.
Fires burn readily across dry mountaintops.
Drought’s danger seeps down the slopes.
Now the valley too is brown and the pastures parched.
Wherever stray embers fall, fires will catch and burn
Until nowhere can they be stopped.
Will anything escape the flames fanned by these raging relentless winds?
The firemen grow weary,
They know neither sleep nor rest.
All their wisdom and efforts fail to meet the fires growing test.
They seek the help of younger men to aid them in the night,
But none can hear or heed the call; they are ensnared in some other fight.
The chief in command stands out of touch safe on the distant hill.
Insulated from the desperate fight, no fires will he end.
People in the valley see him perched emotionless and still.
If he even has a plan from this distance they can’t tell.
They fear for the safety of those who fight and for their own as well.
They fear the loss of all they love and treasure beyond price.
The fields once waved golden and valleys were lush with finest fruits.
The harvest, which they toiled toward, is in peril of being lost.
Will fires claim the victory and devour all they cherish?
Or will they rise against the blaze, fighting fire with fire, before they perish?
Through night a western ridge stays lit, while across this land no one dare now rest.
poem by Mary Havran
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Making Love (iv)
Together as man and woman-
Feel this fire burning from within-
With our love more true
Than true...
In your heat, You surrender yourself to mine...
I know you're mine-
And I belong to you...
You are the captive of my passionate love-
And together we want to soar high above...
I'm entranced by the sparkles in your emerald eyes...
Together we confide-
As in this darkness of night, Our passions we can't hide...
For another time,
Feel as we melt in our heat...
Once again, We perfect our passion's rhyme-
As we make love and become complete...
Again, You become one with me-
As together, We climb to set ourselves free...
Feel me inside you, With our lover's rhythm
And feel as our fires burn together, From within...
In the darkness of the night- See and feel our passionate love's burning sun-
As it burns-
Feeling as our flesh and spirit endlessly yearns...
Feel as our flesh dances as one-
With skin
On skin...
Feel our heat rising like from embers, Burning in this fire-
Emitting from our most primitive desire...
I feel as your moans and whispers of bliss brush against my ear...
You feel as screams push from your throat, Trying to hold back-
But don't hold back...
Together feel as we no longer exist here-
Lets lose our self...
Together lets go someplace else-
Embracing the waves of pleasure-
As we climb together...
Together climbing to a lovers unified dimension-
Into our own heaven-
Far beyond the sky-
Where all that exists is you and I...
Feel ecstasy's explosive convulsions reach out from within-
As we set each other free-
And all that matters for the moment is you and me...
Forever
Remember,
As we existed in this moment, As one- Forever...
My love;
Its you, Whom I shall FOREVER love!
poem by Philip Alarie
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Right Place~~Wrong Time
I felt your Aura come, with the breeze ~
...I could smell your scent, in the frosted air
I could see your trasnluscent glimmer ~
...Even though, i knew you were
...Not here...
Coming like, the Ghost of yesteryear ~
...But so real, i could touch your face
See your skin, and your blue eyes ~
Why, i could feel, our very last embrace
...Back in time, the breeze took me ~
....Back when our love
...Was a heavenly glow~
And 'twas totally, untoucable, by ousiders
While our lust and love, continued to grow ~
...Into passions fires, we were
...A flood of love in our head ~
N'er getting enough, of one another
Un-sated, Erotica, it led ~
Into long nights, of passions screams ~
...Searching tongues and lips in
...Wanton Need ~
You ravishing me, body, mind and soul
Eventually planting, your androgenous seed ~
...But, too soon, you were gone
....The Candle Light ~
...It Disappeared...
Now, all that i have, are heated memories ~
Of the Ghost, of our yesteryears!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Amber Glow
Amber Glow
Red and yellow painted leaves
hang idly within the trees
They break and sail along the breeze
As fires of Autumn's time
They dance and surf upon the ground
Overlap each other with ruffling sound
A setting I am glad I found
As fires of Autumn's time
Like fires of the Autumn season
they leap and dance without a reason
A factor of Autumns many seasons
As fires of Autumn's time'
The grey clouds break, the sun appears
The dancing leaves appear to sere
These flames its kept for many years
As fires of Autumn's time
poem by Wesley Mincin
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The Fires
Men make them fires on the hearth
Each under his roof-tree,
And the Four Winds that rule the earth
They blow the smoke to me.
Across the high hills and the sea
And all the changeful skies,
The Four Winds blow the smoke to me
Till the tears are in my eyes.
Until the tears are in my eyes.
And my heart is wellnigh broke
For thinking on old memories
That gather in the smoke.
With every shift of every wind
The homesick memories come,
From every quarter of mankind
Where I have made me a home.
Four times a fire against the cold
And a roof against the rain --
Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold
The Four Winds bring again!
How can I answer which is best
Of all the fires that burn?
I have been too often host or guest
At every fire in turn.
How can I turn from any fire,
On any man's hearthstone?
I know the wonder and desire
That went to build my own!
How can I doubt man's joy or woe
Where'er his house-fires shine.
Since all that man must undergo
Will visit me at mine?
Oh, you Four Winds that blow so strong
And know that his is true,
Stoop for a little and carry my song
To all the men I knew!
Where there are fires against the cold,
Or roofs against the rain --
With love fourfold and joy fourfold,
Take them my songs again!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Magic Madness
Lost in a portrait I saw as a boy,
of posing flamingos and tropical sun.
Suzanne is calling from out of her window,
a sweet invitation for oranges and rum.
Dive in the dawn of her shimmering ways,
“Love me for ever”, she said,
or give me your power for only a day”,
then drove me right out of my head.
Magic Madness in the candle-light night
where raging fires burn to turn to coals
Magic Madness, silken, satin delight.
Hotly whispered pleading, “More, my baby, more…”
Magic Madness
Sway to the beckoning Spanish guitar,
castanets tapping a rhythm to me.
Angela moves like a dream coming answered
and slyly enchanting this man of the sea.
Sailing come morning and I must be there.
“Love me forever”, she cried,
or lie in my garden as long as you dare”,
then drove me right out of my mind.
Magic Madness in the candle-light night
where raging fires burn to turn to coals
Magic Madness, silken, satin delight.
Hotly whispered pleading, “More, my baby, more…”
Magic Madness
Fate fills the years, like wind in the main.
The boy grows to manhood then sails no more.
Valerie’s calling the children to supper,
wordlessly watching me watching the shore.
Madness comes on as the moon turns the tide,
“Come to me sailor, again.
Your harbor is waiting to take you inside
and magic will dance on the wind.”
Magic Madness in the candle-light night
where raging fires burn to turn to coals
Magic Madness, silken, satin delight.
Hotly whispered pleading, “More, my baby, more…”
Magic Madness
poem by A.D. Varrone
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Good Old Love
I am as tactless as a forest fire
The plains are burning and the elk run
The world crushes us all
Love seems hidden like a well
Yet love always can be found
When the fires burn
When the rain pours
Love brings back the flowers
The truth tells me to behave
And good old love forgives me
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Fire, Fire
Fire, Fire
in hell do they burn?
Fire, Fire
here's my concern.
I cannot think
of hell right now,
only of the fire
that burns somehow
inside my brain
that inflames my senses
and heats up
seeing all pretenses
that prevail in this world,
Not the fires
of the underworld.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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On Finding A Fan
In one who felt as once he felt
This might, perhaps, have fann'd the flame;
But now his heart no more will melt,
Because that heart is not the same.
As when the ebbing flames are low,
The aid which once improved their light,
And bade them burn with fiercer glow,
Now quenches all their blaze in night.
Thus has it been with passion's fires-
As many a boy and girl remembers
While every hope of love expires,
Extinguish'd with the dying embers.
The first, though not a spark survive,
Some careful hand may teach to barn;
The last, alas l can ne'er survive;
No touch can bid its warmth reform
Or, if it chance to wake again.
Not always doom 'd its heat to smother,
It sheds (so wayward fates ordain)
Its former warmth around another.
The Love We Had Behind That Door One Sunday Afternoon
the love behind that door
one sunday afternoon when all of them were gone to church
we were silly and hot and
thrilled to the tempest of our flesh
the passions that burn like a wildfire in the camp
we closed the door
with our two bodies in fear
but the heat was even more
tempting we set aside
possibilities in hell
all we thought of was
heaven and the songs of angels
we banged the door together
we were afraid no more of conseqences
we had thrown clothes and underwears
under the chairs
the world and its rules did not matter
we were making a stand of
teen-age love
the supple youth that must rule
the world of unfounded fears
what we remembered most
were the volcanoes
they all erupted and we closed our eyes
and the magma flowed
all the lava moved
all the fiery fires and sounds of
cracking pyroplastics
the sweet explosions in our ears
then we listened afterwards
the mellow songs of our hearts
we take our calm seats we hold our tired hands
and then the sunday door opened again
as though nothing important really happened
we assured ourselves by the mutual silent gazes of our eyes
the scented air came in
and we were refreshed again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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