En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Scent of Irises

A faint, sickening scent of irises
Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table
A fine proud spike of purple irises
Rising above the class-room litter, makes me unable
To see the class’s lifted and bended faces
Save in a broken pattern, amid purple and gold and sable.

I can smell the gorgeous bog-end, in its breathless
Dazzle of may-blobs, when the marigold glare overcast you
With fire on your cheeks and your brow and your chin as you dipped
Your face in the marigold bunch, to touch and contrast you,
Your own dark mouth with the bridal faint lady-smocks,
Dissolved on the golden sorcery you should not outlast.

You amid the bog-end’s yellow incantation,
You sitting in the cowslips of the meadow above,
Me, your shadow on the bog-flame, flowery may-blobs,
Me full length in the cowslips, muttering you love;
You, your soul like a lady-smock, lost, evanescent,
You with your face all rich, like the sheen of a dove.

You are always asking, do I remember, remember
The butter-cup bog-end where the flowers rose up
And kindled you over deep with a cast of gold?
You ask again, do the healing days close up
The open darkness which then drew us in,
The dark which then drank up our brimming cup.

You upon the dry, dead beech-leaves, in the fire of night
Burnt like a sacrifice; you invisible;
Only the fire of darkness, and the scent of you!
—And yes, thank God, it still is possible
The healing days shall close the darkness up
Wherein we fainted like a smoke or dew.

Like vapour, dew, or poison. Now, thank God,
The fire of night is gone, and your face is ash
Indistinguishable on the grey, chill day;
The night had burst us out, at last the good
Dark fire burns on untroubled, without clash
Of you upon the dead leaves saying me Yea.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fire Keepers

Keep the fire burning
That's been kindled in you soul
For the fire burns the dross away
And brings forth precious gold

Shine the light the fire brings
To the darkness in the land
For the Light is the Light of the world
And the darkness flees at His command

Keep the fire of praise ablaze
To combat life's malaise
For the Lord's fire is in Zion
An Inhabiter of our praise

Take your lamp where the fire burns
Bring oil most precious and true
For the oil causes the lamp to burn
All the dark night through

Seek the Giver of unchanging fire
From Whom all blessings flow
For you know not what the day may hold
And tomorrow is not your own.

poem by Theresa Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fire Air Water

Fire air water: the primitive deities in their snakish humor
Blessed you with beauty-
What a horrible solitary beauty they blessed you with;
And cursed the men in touch with you with the lust of flies.

Fire air water: the primitive deities in their punning humor
Pour passion on me to produce poetry:
As though I am fire air water too,
As though I am producing you,

As though your face is not blood, nor flesh, nor lust
But a nightly deodar island;
A desolate distant bluish island;

Nevertheless you are being used by the vulgar hands
And being dissolved across the earth of soil;
And I am being dissolved amid the shadow of stars over the distant island.

Fire air water: the primitive deities in their kaleidoscopic humor
Keep on spreading the seed of beauty,
The seed of dream on earth.

I ponder with surprise,
Where are you tonight?
Why can't beauty recognize the shadow of the stars over the solitary deodar island-
The beauty of that lady of the earth?
By the vulgar hands her beauty is being used- used- used- used- used-
Being used- used-
Fire air water: the primitive deities burst into laughter 'ho ho'
'Being used again and again and turning into pork? Ho ho'

'Ho ho ho' my troubled heart burst into laughter too! -
Amid this terrible laughter all around, the dark sea seemed to bloom
With a dead body of the enormous whale of darkness;
All the beauty of the universe stinks like the dead body of the enormous whale of darkness,
Wherever I go, among the comets over those seas and oceans
How normal, how natural!

Translation by S M Maniruzzaman

poem by Jibanananda Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Time of fire

This is a time of fire,
fire and flowers…
The flames tell their story
all night.

It is dark around
but the fire knows
we feel our way in the dark.

Fire that fills
the breathless hour
in the stillness of the night.

The fire’s spirit awoke,
you see the true beauty –
a red rose,
the beauty of the rose is magic…

This is a time of fire,
, fire and flowers…

poem by KrystynaMaria Postawa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

At End Of A Holiday

'LEAVES and brambles from hill and hollow
Come and gather!' the children cried;
'The sun goes down, and the night will follow,
A moonless night on the dark hillside.'
All ways they wandered — the dry twigs snapping,
With laugh and prattle and song between;
Down on the rocks the waves were lapping,
The long swell swaying the seaweed green.
And she stood by in her white sun-bonnet,
All lace and snow on her tressy hair,
With a gold king-beetle dreaming on it
A lotus dream in the lustrous air.
Was it love, or a dove in the tall tree cooing?
Was it love, or a dove that loitered nigh?
The eventide is the hour for wooing —
But I was silent, and she was shy.
Then suddenly rose a far faint humming,
A growing noise in the evening hush,
And the prattle of children homeward coming,
Laden with spoil of the gold-brown bush.
'Leaves and brambles from hill and hollow!
The way was tangled, and tangles tire.
The sun goes down and the night will follow, —
Now down on your knees and make us a fire!'
The leaves were wet (how a storm may hinder!)
The brambles damp with a shower at noon;
She bent to help . . .and my heart of tinder,
Ah, why did it burst to flame so soon?
'Dry leaves, dry leaves from the twilight forest,
Or bark that is sheltered, or hidden ferns:
Dry leaves, dry leaves!' the children chorused,
'The drier the leaf the redder it burns!'
The fire leapt up with a sudden glancing,
The first flame flushing her hands of snow;
And round about went the children dancing,
Their faces lit by the rosy glow.
That fire has gone beyond all returning,
For wild winds scatter and chill rains drench:
All dust the leaves; but a fire is burning
That wind or water shall never quench.
Ah, leaves and brambles from hill and hollow!
And two together, and violet eyes . . .
The sun goes down, and love must follow,
A quenchless fire, and a flame that dies.

poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dragon In My Soul

Fire,
It burns in all of us,
It burns deep in my soul,

I fell it when I'm told no,
Fire,
or you would not under stand,
That you are to young,

Flame brakes,
out like wild fire,

I look at the world in away that most adults are blind to,
I sit in my corner,
day,
night,
hoping.
Hoping that I will be free,
free from my age,

Cinders start to flame,

I look at the earth,
poisoned,
Fire,
poisoned by the adults,
Fire,
The government is a place that the idiots go,
Fire,
to control us,

Fire burns deep,

They make bad decisions,
Fire
Pass laws that make no sense,
Fire
but we have to listen,
Fire
we have to do,

Then the fire burns,

My soul is ablaze,
Anger,
Hate,
Sadness,

Fire,

I understand what you are saying,
That's why I argue,
Fire,
louder,
Fire,
Until I am yelling,
Until the fire is flaming out of my mouth,
Coming from my lungs,

My soul is on fire,
Anger,
hate,
sadness,

poem by Shadrach Knight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fire on Your Finger

Fire on your finger,
Fire in your eye,
Fire in your spirit,
Fire that won’t die.

Fire in the bare bones of being,
Fire to uphold what’s right,
Fire in the heart of darkness,
Fire to fuel Love’s light.

Fire to burn but not consume,
Fire to learn and not assume,
Fire to live and give living room,
Fire to love and sing her tune.

poem by Tony Jolley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Discipline

It is stormy, and raindrops cling like silver bees to the pane,
The thin sycamores in the playground are swinging with flattened leaves;
The heads of the boys move dimly through a yellow gloom that stains
The class; over them all the dark net of my discipline weaves.

It is no good, dear, gentleness and forbearance, I endured too long:
I have pushed my hands in the dark soil, under the flower of my soul
And the gentle leaves, and have felt where the roots are strong
Fixed in the darkness, grappling for the deep soil’s little control.

And there is the dark, my darling, where the roots are entangled and fight
Each one for its hold on the oblivious darkness, I know that there
In the night where we first have being, before we rise on the light,
We are not brothers, my darling, we fight and we do not spare.

And in the original dark the roots cannot keep, cannot know
Any communion whatever, but they bind themselves on to the dark,
And drawing the darkness together, crush from it a twilight, a slow
Burning that breaks at last into leaves and a flower’s bright spark.

I came to the boys with love, my dear, but they turned on me;
I came with gentleness, with my heart ’twixt my hands like a bowl,
Like a loving-cup, like a grail, but they spilt it triumphantly
And tried to break the vessel, and to violate my soul.

But what have I to do with the boys, deep down in my soul, my love?
I throw from out of the darkness my self like a flower into sight,
Like a flower from out of the night-time, I lift my face, and those
Who will may warm their hands at me, comfort this night.

But whosoever would pluck apart my flowering shall burn their hands,
So flowers are tender folk, and roots can only hide,
Yet my flowerings of love are a fire, and the scarlet brands
Of my love are roses to look at, but flames to chide.

But comfort me, my love, now the fires are low,
Now I am broken to earth like a winter destroyed, and all
Myself but a knowledge of roots, of roots in the dark that throw
A net on the undersoil, which lies passive beneath their thrall.

But comfort me, for henceforth my love is yours alone,
To you alone will I offer the bowl, to you will I give
My essence only, but love me, and I will atone
To you for my general loving, atone as long as I live.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Rose from my Love

Rose from my love,
My love the black dragon,
With teeth like daggers,
Claws of steel,
Scales of darkness,
And a soul of fire.

Do not raid the village,
Do not steal the maiden,
Just guard the rose,
My rose,
The rose of the dark moon.

Under the cloudy sky,
Surrounded by trees dead and charred,
Looking out at the frozen lake,
Remember me,
And wait for my return.

My sweet dragon,
Dragon of my dreams,
Your soul is dark like me,
Even when that fire goes out,
The rose will remain,
As a memory of our love,
But was that love in vain?

No, not in vain will I die,
I will die in the arms of my love,
My love Mokar,
Protector of my rose,
The rose of the dark moon,
The moon I was born under.

poem by Nicolette Gonzalez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Passion of Fire

My heart was started by a spark,
burst into flames.
Now I am like a lamp on a hill,
everyone sees me and my passion.
I'm on fire, I'm burning bright.

You made the spark,
kindled the flame,
gave this fire the passion of the night.
Its burning bright, through the night,
its never going out or dimming.

Its the passion of the fire,
its the passion of life.
The life you gave,
was meant to amaze.
Now with you in me,
I illuminate the darkness.

I'm on fire,
running with the flame, the passion
touching people,
letting them catch the fire, catch your Love.
It never fades away,
this passion deep in me,
it'll burn till the end of day.

poem by Mistral Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Darkness Hopes

In each of us lives darkness
black as coal and full of desire,
that lies dormant in the midnight
though it longs to feel a fire.

The fire brings great brightness
to the heart of the darkest dark;
as it dances with abandon
flirting madly as it sparks.

When the sparks flash in the darkness
the blackness feels the heat,
that's created by a passion
when light and darkness meet.

Once the darkness is ignited
white light burns deep inside,
emboldened by combustion
once begun, won't subside.

Though as the fire burns lower
and the light begins to dim,
embers glow with excitement
for what will come again.

The darkness is quite patient
as it quietly sits and waits,
for the fire to build inside again
and reconnect the fates.

You see, the darkness holds out the hope
for the passion of the light,
to dance again with abandon
to bring a fire, burning bright.

(September 10,2010)

poem by David L. Harkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Adonis

1.

Each of us like you
has died once,
has passed through drift of wood-leaves,
cracked and bent
and tortured and unbent
in the winter-frost,
the burnt into gold points,
lighted afresh,
crisp amber, scales of gold-leaf,
gold turned and re-welded
in the sun;

each of us like you
has died once,
each of us has crossed an old wood-path
and found the winter-leaves
so golden in the sun-fire
that even the live wood-flowers
were dark.

2.

Not the gold on the temple-front
where you stand
is as gold as this,
not the gold that fastens your sandals,
nor thee gold reft
through your chiselled locks,
is as gold as this last year's leaf,
not all the gold hammered and wrought
and beaten
on your lover's face.
brow and bare breast
is as golden as this:

each of us like you
has died once,
each of us like you
stands apart, like you
fit to be worshipped.

poem by Hilda Doolittle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Old Mile-Tree

OLD coach-road West by Nor’-ward—
Old mile-tree by the track:
A dead branch pointing forward,
And a dead branch pointing back.
And still in clear-cut romans
On his hard heart he tells
The miles that were to fortune,
The miles from Bowenfels.
Old chief of Western timber!
A famous gum you’ve been.
Old mile-tree, I remember
When all your boughs were green.

There came three boyish lovers
When golden days begun;
There rode three boyish rovers
Towards the setting sun.
And Fortune smiled her fairest
And Fate to these was kind—
The truest, best and rarest,
The girls they’d left behind.
By the camp-fire’s dying ember
They dreamed of love and gold;
Old mile-tree, I remember
When all our hearts were bold.

And when the wrecks of those days
Were sadly drifting back,
There came a lonely swagman
Along the dusty track;
And save for limbs that trembled—
For weak and ill was he—
Old mile-tree, he resembled
The youngest of the three.
Beneath you, dark and lonely,
A wronged and broken man
He crouched, and sobbed as only
The strong heart broken can.
The darkness wrapped the timber,
The stars seemed dark o’erhead—
Old mile-tree, I remember
When all green leaves seemed dead.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Single Candle/Death Herself

A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death

Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead

Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death

Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death

Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?

Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see

Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead

A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death

A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials

A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself

A single candle

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dust

When the white flame in us is gone,
And we that lost the world's delight
Stiffen in darkness, left alone
To crumble in our separate night;

When your swift hair is quiet in death,
And through the lips corruption thrust
Has stilled the labour of my breath-
When we are dust, when we are dust!-

Not dead, not undesirous yet,
Still sentient, still unsatisfied,
We'll ride the air, and shine, and flit,
Around the places where we died,

And dance as dust before the sun,
And light of foot, and unconfined,
Hurry from road to road, and run
About the errands of the wind.

And every mote, on earth or air,
Will speed and gleam, down later days,
And like a secret pilgrim fare
By eager and invisible ways,

Nor ever rest, nor ever lie,
Till, beyond thinking, out of view,
One mote of all the dust that's I
Shall meet one atom that was you.

Then in some garden hushed from wind,
Warm in a sunset's afterglow,
The lovers in the flowers will find
A sweet and strange unquiet grow

Upon the peace; and, past desiring,
So high a beauty in the air,
And such a light, and such a quiring,
And such a radiant ecstasy there,

They'll know not if it's fire, or dew,
Or out of earth, or in the height,
Singing, or flame, or scent, or hue,
Or two that pass, in light, to light,

Out of the garden, higher, higher. . . .
But in that instant they shall learn
The shattering ecstasy of our fire,
And the weak passionless hearts will burn

And faint in that amazing glow,
Until the darkness close above;
And they will know-poor fools, they'll know!-
One moment, what it is to love.

poem by Rupert Brooke (1910)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Restlessness

At the open door of the room I stand and look at the night,
Hold my hand to catch the raindrops, that slant into sight,
Arriving grey from the darkness above suddenly into the light of the room.
I will escape from the hollow room, the box of light,
And be out in the bewildering darkness, which is always fecund, which might
Mate my hungry soul with a germ of its womb.

I will go out to the night, as a man goes down to the shore
To draw his net through the surf’s thin line, at the dawn before
The sun warms the sea, little, lonely and sad, sifting the sobbing tide.
I will sift the surf that edges the night, with my net, the four
Strands of my eyes and my lips and my hands and my feet, sifting the store
Of flotsam until my soul is tired or satisfied.

I will catch in my eyes’ quick net
The faces of all the women as they go past,
Bend over them with my soul, to cherish the wet
Cheeks and wet hair a moment, saying: “Is it you?”
Looking earnestly under the dark umbrellas, held fast
Against the wind; and if, where the lamplight blew
Its rainy swill about us, she answered me
With a laugh and a merry wildness that it was she
Who was seeking me, and had found me at last to free
Me now from the stunting bonds of my chastity,
How glad I should be!

Moving along in the mysterious ebb of the night
Pass the men whose eyes are shut like anemones in a dark pool;
Why don’t they open with vision and speak to me, what have they in sight?
Why do I wander aimless among them, desirous fool?
I can always linger over the huddled books on the stalls,
Always gladden my amorous fingers with the touch of their leaves,
Always kneel in courtship to the shelves in the doorways, where falls
The shadow, always offer myself to one mistress, who always receives.

But oh, it is not enough, it is all no good.
There is something I want to feel in my running blood,
Something I want to touch; I must hold my face to the rain,
I must hold my face to the wind, and let it explain
Me its life as it hurries in secret.
I will trail my hands again through the drenched, cold leaves
Till my hands are full of the chillness and touch of leaves,
Till at length they induce me to sleep, and to forget.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Out Of Control

Girls on fire boys on fire
Out of control the flames are
Getting higher
Here comes mary here comes sue
I tried to warn you I tried to
Warn you
Out of control
Out of control
Out of control
Out of control
I like to be outside everything
Happens outside
All the girls are outside all the fun
Is outside --
I have no mental problems didnt
Anybody tell you?
Out of control
Out of control
Out of control
Out of control
Darkness darkness Im a specialist in
Darkness darkness
And its dark and its cold and its not
Like they told me it was gonna be
And the only light is from the fire of
The burning books
He said you better get with it
She said ----------- with what?
He said Im not a communist
She said you better get with it
He said I am not out of control
I tried to warn you I tried to
Warn you
He said I am not jesus I am not
Radiation I am
Not a commando this is not romper
Room I am not responsible
Im going to hollywood
Shut up!
The worlds on fire toys on fire
Everybody everywhere looking
For desire
There goes mary there goes sue
I tried to warn you I tried to
Warn you

song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Light My Fire

You know that it would be untrue
You know that i would be a liar
If i was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Aouh, come on!
Come on, babe!
Yeah! come on!
Come on!
Woaouh! yeah!
It was the greatest night of my life.
Although i still had not found a wife
I had my friends
Right there beside me.
We were close together.
We tripped the wall, we scaled the graveyard
Ancient shapes were all around us.
The wet dew felt fresh beside the fog.
Two made love in an ancient spot
One chased a rabbit into the dark
A girl got drunk and balled the dead
And i gave empty sermons to my head.
Cemetary, cool and quiet
Hate to leave your sacred lay
Dread the milky coming of the day.
Ah, ah, ah, ah!
Ah, ah, ah, ah!
Ah, ah, ah, ah!
Ah, ah, ah, ah!
Ah, ah, ah, ah!
Ah, ah, ah, ah!
Ah, ah, ah, ah!
Aah, aah, aah, aah, aah
Aah, aah, aah, aaah!
Time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Know that it would be untrue
You know that i would be a liar
If i was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire!
All right, all right!
All right!

song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Walk Through The Fire

Walk through the fire
Walk through the fire (walk through the fire)
Through the dust and ashes
While the building crashes
Walk through the flame (walk through the fire)
No trace of indecision
Lion keep his vision clear
Moving out
Across the water
The wet leaves quiver in the heat
Darkness heavy on my shoulder
Smell the smoke, sickly sweet
The bodys weak, the shadows strong
Walk through the fire (walk through the fire)
Through the dust and ashes
While the building crashes
Walk through the flame (walk through the fire)
Lion show no sign of fear
Walk through the fire (walk through the fire)
Through the dust and ashes
While the building crashes
Walk through the flame (walk through the fire)
No time for doubt or caution
Taken by the strong emotion
Walk through the fire (walk through the fire)
No trace of indecision
Lion hold his vision clear
(walk, walk, walk)
Walk through the fire (walk through the fire)
Walking in the path of angel
Walk on down below, walk on down below
Walk on down below, walk on down below

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Dark Rose

a dark rose growing from the dark
concrete crevice of
this deserted building
on this dark night
spreading its petals of darkness
for a dreamer dark dream

on a fine morning
when the darkness
is gone
the dark rose
comes out in the open
to meet the sun
to embrace it's light
with so much light
turning into something
of a reddish blood
coloured rose
something glowing like
the blood of pain
but still dark
like the one last night.

poem by Suelynn Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!