We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints
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We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints
Sent various—scattered ways—
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
But for that single Spark.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Related quotes
A Flint
Who has married a flint?
Who is living with a flint?
Are you okay with the flint? !
Then, use it wisely before it sparks off your life.
Who has married a flint?
Mind you,
It will spark up your life if there is no love.
Who has married the flint?
Please do take care of it before it destroys your life;
The flint is needed to work with but,
It is your lover today;
So take care with the flint before it destroys you.
Who has married the flint?
We all need a flint to work with but,
Sometimes it is very dangerous!
Who has married a flint?
Do accept your life as it is and,
Do learn from it always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Stroke A Flint
Stroke a flint, and there is nothing to admire:
Strike a flint, and forthwith flash out sparks of fire.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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An Emerald Is As Green As Grass
An emerald is as green as grass;
A ruby red as blood;
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;
A flint lies in the mud.
A diamond is a brilliant stone,
To catch the world's desire;
An opal holds a fiery spark;
But a flint holds fire.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Together
Kicking dirt and rocks we walked
All through the city with lights glaring
Music assaulting us out of hip places
That we'll never fit into.
Wine on my breath and beer on yours
We opened our eyes and drank each other in
Something clicks, we burn.
Flint on flint and we decide.
Wasted time before us
So much to do after us,
In this way we're connected and
We'll grow in the most happy, pain-filled of ways.
Together.
poem by Rachel Stapleton
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Upon The Flint In The Water
This flint, time out of mind, has there abode,
Where crystal streams make their continual road.
Yet it abides a flint as much as 'twere
Before it touched the water, or came there
Its hard obdurateness is not abated,
'Tis not at all by water penetrated.
Though water hath a soft'ning virtue in't,
This stone it can't dissolve, for 'tis a flint.
Yea, though it in the water doth remain,
It doth its fiery nature still retain.
If you oppose it with its opposite,
At you, yea, in your face, its fire 'twill spit.
Comparison.
This flint an emblem is of those that lie,
Like stones, under the Word, until they die.
Its crystal streams have not their nature changed,
They are not, from their lusts, by grace estranged.
poem by John Bunyan
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Walking West
Anyone with quiet pace who
walks a gray road in the West
may hear a badger underground where
in deep flint another time is
Caught by flint and held forever,
the quiet pace of God stopped still.
Anyone who listens walks on
time that dogs him single file,
To mountains that are far from people,
the face of the land gone gray like flint.
Badgers dig their little lives there,
quiet-paced the land lies gaunt,
The railroad dies by a yellow depot,
town falls away toward a muddy creek.
Badger-gray the sod goes under
a river of wind, a hawk on a stick.
poem by William Stafford
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Does She Stalk Pathways
‘How much we change...
I well remember when, ’
She said -
But that was years before
And now, she’s dead!
Who was she - why,
And what to me,
Who once lived, died,
Yet stirs my memory?
A brief spark, struck
From some ancient flint
That caught, soared, burned
Cooled,
Teetered at the brink;
Then sputtered, died
Leaving no mark,
No trail beyond the heavens
That sped her... Dark!
Her flight was short, sharp
Exquisite and pale,
Translucent, futile
She spilt her grail
With every seed spawned
At harvest’s spring,
Her womb wide
She let them in.
All ruffians and whores
She bore to this,
The swift brief spark, struck
Then nothingness.
And why, when mirrors
Tell me I’m old,
Does she stalk pathways
I’d paved with gold?
10 December 1984
poem by David Lewis Paget
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As the evening sun faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without passion man is a mere latent force and possibility, like the flint which awaits the shock of the iron before it can give forth its spark.
quote by Henri Frederic Amiel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A spark..
Everyone we know, has that spark to light up,
The cold hearts of human to thaw and blaze up,
To radiate the warmth of love to their neighbors,
To spread the message of kindness that allures,
To entangle those miserable people at the distance,
Have the stores that sell faithful blemishes,
The spark at the sky runs white zigzag,
The spark at the stroke of the flint and Iron,
Banging of stones and at the iridium plug,
May start the combustion to burn and manage,
The spark at the hearts that melts the nods,
Spread through the bodies to be entwined,
Where the blooms touch each and every cell,
Ecstatic things alive, dance rhythmic and still,
The spark at the minds of mass ablaze,
Inabilities, ignorance and servitude,
On the floor of the emancipated balconies,
The flowers bloom freely to hang in breeze.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Firewood House
living on a firewood
house one gets to understand well
the essence of conflagration
a spark
a flint if taken for granted
can cause
what you do not expect to happen at all
so do not ever talk about
a matchbox
or even a candlelight
it will be too dangerous
to dream about you
you're hot
and flaming
and you may want a light
after a tryst
i guess once is enough
of you
the firewood house is about to burn itself
and soon i will be
lying helpless along the road
enough
of this ash
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mastodon Hunt
Spear shafts splintering beneath its collapsing hulk,
the mastodon crashed to the earth,
roared its final lament and fell silent.
Shouts echoed across the ravine.
Dark-haired Clovis hunters converged:
stripping the hide,
carving the flesh.
Others circling the carcass,
traced broken shafts to flint;
gathering them for tomorrow's hunt -
retrieving all save one.
A triumphal fire hissed and snapped,
hurling heat and smoke
high into the mid–day sky.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The archaeologist knelt to the ground.
Heart racing, he scraped dirt from flint,
brushed away millennia of dust
and raised the projectile to the sun shouting,
'Clovis point! '
'Clovis point' - a revelation in the dust:
found inches from the bones of its prey.
Khaki and blue jean clad hunters gathered quickly
to read the epic written in flint and bone:
mastodon and Clovis united by the point of a spear.
poem by Robert Charles Howard
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Little Miss Fairy
glittering, shimmering,
little miss fairy goes,
as she walks up to girls,
fulfills their dreams,
she pours her golden shimmering powder,
on their heads with a light, a shine and a spark,
her golden hair, flowing,
long and shiny, as she walks,
her creamy dress floating and flowing,
full with jewels and sparks,
her trail of light and sparks,
lights up every single place for hours,
little miss fairy,
so gorgous,
so lovely,
as she comes to my window and takes my wish,
and lights up my room,
with a tinkly, twinkly light,
and shiny, glimmering sparks!
poem by Fathmath Sana
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The Earth, Our Home
dissolving...
we lay down our bodies
etched in stone,
the night sky lit up
by shells exploding,
and falling stars...
time spent,
final payment in
sweat and blood...
packages wrapped in flesh,
without a name or a bow...
struck against the flint,
spark to spark,
dissolving in each other's mouths,
leaving the taste of smoke.
your heart, my heart,
no distance, no seperation...
we crumble like fallen leaves
into the earth, our home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ebb and Flow
When first Thou on me, Lord, wroughtest Thy sweet print,
My heart was made Thy tinder-box,
My 'ffections were Thy tinder in't,
Where fell Thy sparks by drops.
Those holy sparks of heavenly fire that came
Did ever catch and often out would flame.
But now my heart is made Thy censer trim,
Full of Thy golden altar's fire,
To offer up sweet incense in
Unto Thyself entire:
I find my tinder scarce Thy sparks can feel
That drop from out Thy holy flint and steel.
Hence doubts out bud for fear Thy fire in me
'S a mocking ignis fatuus,
Or lest Thine altar's fire out be,
It's hid in ashes thus.
Yet when the bellows of Thy spirit blow
Away mine ashes, then Thy fire doth glow.
poem by Edward Taylor
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Spark In The Dark
Welcome to the party
Its only me and you
Tell the world to go away, babe
And Ill tell you what to do
Come over here and kiss me
I want to pull your hair
Turn out the lights and hold me
I want to touch you everywhere
We dont need nobody, baby
We dont need champagne
Ill take you to the deepest,
Darkest, hottest, lovers lane
For a little spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Dont matter where we sleep
Dont matter where we park
All we need is a spark, spark
Spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Come around midnight
Well be crawlin on the floor
Burnin with the fever
And yellin out for more
But dont you write it in your
Diary, baby
Dont blab it on the phone
Cuz if your mom and dad find out
Theyll skin me to the bone
Now we dont need instructions,
Baby
Dont you be afraid
It takes a little friction
Thats how our love is made
]from a little spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Dont matter what you say
No matter what you do
As long as it is me and you
We got a spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark, yeah
We dont need nobody, baby
We dont need cocaine
Ill take you to the deepest,
Darkest, hottest lovers lane
Spark in the dark
Just a little spark in the dark
Dont matter where we sleep
Dont matter where we park
All we need is a spark, spark
Spark in the dark
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Shadows
The tourist! !
Dark shadows,
Winter,
Summer,
Go for the gold!
Of your seeds,
Of my seeds,
Steel,
Still,
Waits!
Sleeping beauty,
Unknown,
Phantom,
Atom,
Light,
Light,
Edition!
Dark shadows;
Chronicles,
Apollo,
To the hotel,
Ashen,
Of the descendants,
Ask,
Asterisk,
Like hell! !
Astute,
To the zoo;
Toy,
Green day!
Deluxe,
Rocky,
Stone,
Sour,
Soul,
Braced at last!
Of the contour,
To the mirror,
Of your story,
To the editor!
Sons of the morning,
Daughters of the evening,
Home of dark shadows!
Clint, flint;
Days later,
Weeks later,
With your muse,
Like Robin Hood!
But, without nightmare.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Lighter
A single dropp of water about to fall,
it must be in a studio, blue upon
blue reflection - the last cushioned indent
swells out and around that photographed image
clasped around by hand with the grate of thumb-flint
and lifts a little fuel to spark on top.
Everything is found in situ as it was,
picked up, with mats, nick-naks, old typed recipes,
a whole house ploughed through, remembering something
lodged in my head, of a tiny bird in the
Atacama dawn - rarefied air held it's
fine feathers and dry frost, so dry it's small eye
was a brimful of deep brimming sky, and how
it seemed to sweat moisture I thought from it's
very self, just being alive.
poem by Lelio S Shirra
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Jim Hawkins's diary
every boy grew up must go to the sea
home sick, mother's warm embraces to me
Lily, I love you please just wait for me
waving shades of the sails speak silent words to me
father, now you can be proud of me I went to the sea
I wrote in my diary 'Jim Hawkins went to the sea
for the seagulls can fish accompanied only by me'
I met John Silver and he was with a wooden leg
the sea scent was coming out of his hair form a distant ship
Silver was a seafaring man with a red-green parrot
Silver was the only man, Flint feared the most
Flint was a captain of a vessel with six men crew
murdered all six of the crew and left them to shape
outstretched arms pointing to his prime treasure
the ancient captain sent them to Davy Jones' locker
'Darby M Graw, fetch aft the rum'
Flint has died at a home Pirate's inn
if he brought the pleasure into sin
the vulture is to be dead within
fifteen men all died for a dead man's chest
Silver, I have been to the treasure island (said Jim)
thee have to find it's mysterious home land (said Silver)
Billy told me to search the treasure island (said Jim)
thee have to find me at the home land (said Silver)
old mate I long for you and thy wisdom (said Silver)
Silver, thee received their black symptom (said Jim)
captain, together we will reach Flint's kingdom (said Silver)
Billy has died because he received the black symptom (said Jim)
fifteen men all died for a dead man's chest.
poem by Mohammed Hassan
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Sonnet XVIII
THe rolling wheele that runneth often round,
The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare:
and drizling drops that often doe redound,
the firmest flint doth in continuance weare.
Yet cannot I with many a dropping teare,
and long intreaty soften her hard hart:
that she will once vouchsafe my plaint to heare,
or looke with pitty on my payneful smart.
But when I pleade, she bids me play my part,
and when I weep, she sayes teares are but water:
and when I sigh, she sayes I know the art,
and when I waile she turnes hir selfe to laughter.
So doe I weepe, and wayle, and pleade in vaine,
whiles she as steele and flint doth still remayne.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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