The thunder cat
In the bush I see a strange thing,
a secret cat
that like a phantom
follow our tracts, shadowing behind
leaving no tracts of its own.
Red eyes glow at night
with the intensity of a fire burning
but every time that I really look
it’s out of reach.
Around the orange-yellow fire
where we are barbequing the meat
from the day’s hunting
I can almost smell the monster
where it sneaks out of sight
around us.
I wonder what has awaken
in the wild veldt, the jungle
and what hell of a thing
we now have drawn
from its sleep?
My.308 rifle and hunting knife
both lie near to my side,
but something let me comprehend
that no usual weapons
will stand against this monster
but at that time I am still convinced
that it’s only imagination
and the tiredness, the party
at the fire
and my thoughts are playing with me.
Totally unconcerned we go to sleep
and with time the flames
burn lower and lower
and there are only glowing coals left.
When I wake up with a start
a bright moon is in the sky
and something strange
stand over me
and it looks part transparent
but still with a fixed
dark form.
I can smell death
on the breath of it
and see its teeth glittering
and it’s as if thunder
flames from its jaws
when it bites at me
and an urge for survival
let me jump from the ground
to the other side
of the glowing coals
and its teeth clash on each other.
Next to me lies a shovel
and some of the coals
still have small flames
and I see that the coals
make it hesitate for a moment.
Desperately I grab the shovel,
scoop if full of coals
and when the monster
opens its jaws again
to take another bite at me
and I get the rotten smell
of its foul breath
I throw the whole shovel
down its throat.
For a moment it roars thundering,
is filled with bright white thunderbolts
and stand ablaze
and looks like a thunder cat
before it disappears into the darkness
and becomes nothing
as if suddenly it’s in another dimension
and everybody stares at me
with eyes huge as saucers
and from the sand
I pick up two teeth
that shines strangely, like diamonds,
but with an unknown blue-white fire
glowing from the inside.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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In the inner square
In the inner square
just outside the police station
a little group stands around a drum
in which coals are burning
and flames are shooting up
in the dark night.
Between them a man is standing,
holding out his hands
to get them warm
and above them the stars are bright
like lights in the night
but the moon
has a strange colour that particular night.
A woman constable walking past
stops and asks the man:
“Are you not one of those wild men
who are following the prisoner? ”
It’s as if the eyes
of every policeman around the fire
like search lights fall on him
and he shakes his head decidedly
and draws the cap lower over his head
to get hot and avoid their stares.
“I really do not know him. Do not even know
the reason why you have captured him. Just came
to get some heat from the fire
and what injustice lies in this? ”
The women constable frowns
and walks away with swaying hips
and he remark about the way
that she walks,
which makes the other men around the fire laugh
and through the open door
of the police station
he notices how somebody inside
hits the prisoner through the face
and it’s almost
as if he feels it in his own face.
“Friend, you are not from here
and looks just as ruff as him, ”
one of the constables says jokingly
and his tooth glitters white
for his own joke.
This time the man is much more definite
and worry is eating at him:
“No. Constables, if I would know him
by this time you would know me too?
You probably know
his accomplices? ”
A constable that was at the arrest
comes and stand at the fire
and the flames flares up more brightly
causing him to see the man
between them clearly.
“You talk in the same dialect as the prisoner?
Were you not at the arrest? Surely you were there? ”
Every policeman and even
some of those in the police station
is now staring at him.
“Truly, no. He is totally strange to me!
You cannot lay the guilt
of that man’s deeds onto just anybody.
Just because we maybe comes from the same place.
I can say under oath that I do not know him.”
His gaze catches that of the prisoner
and he sees love
and no condemnation
and on that hour, minute and second
a cock crows
and pain rips through him
that he has just betrayed the Son of God
and the man walks away from the fire
into the night, just blindly
and he cries
while rain is falling around him
and he wonders what it takes
to stand for the truth
while lightning bolts hits blue-white around him.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark Secret Love
For a moment the world turns its back
And you let me come closer
Though the hearts were filled with fear
For this dark secret love
Oh let the world turn its back
And please let me come closer
Though the hearts filled with fear
For this love
Our 666 has got a name
We burn in its flames again and again
For it is our
Dark secret love
"set me as a seal upon thine heart,
As a seal upon thine arm,
For love is strong as death
Jealousy is cruel as the grave.
The coals thereof
Are coals of fire,
Which hath a most vehement flame."*
I love you - i love you
I love you - i love you
I love you - i love you
For a moment the world turns its back
And you let me come closer
Though the hearts touched with joy
Our 666 has got a name
We burn in its flames again and again
For it is our
Dark secret love
Our 666 has got a name
We burn in its flames again and again
For it is our
Dark secret love
*=book of song of solomon: song of solomon 8:6
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Secret Love
For a moment the world turns its back
And you let me come closer
Though the hearts were filled with fear
For this dark secret love
Oh let the world turn its back
And please let me come closer
Though the hearts filled with fear
For this love
Our 666 has got a name
We burn in its flames again and again
For it is our
Dark secret love
Set me as a seal upon thine heart,
As a seal upon thine arm,
For love is strong as death
Jealousy is cruel as the grave.
The coals thereof
Are coals of fire,
Which hath a most vehement flame.*
I love you - I love you
I love you - I love you
I love you - I love you
For a moment the world turns its back
And you let me come closer
Though the hearts touched with joy
Our 666 has got a name
We burn in its flames again and again
For it is our
Dark secret love
Our 666 has got a name
We burn in its flames again and again
For it is our
Dark secret love
*=book of song of solomon: song of solomon 8:6
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coals glowing orange red
Coals glowing orange red in the half drum
blazing through the holes in the sides of it
and a guard warms his hands
where he stands watching, with eyes alert
one hand touching the baton
as if testing if it is still there
and his shadow is gigantic
on the white building behind him
and above him, in the night
God’s coals are aflame
burning through the holes in the sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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At Houtbay beach
A young girl and an old man
walk down steps
to the stretch
that the beach at Houtbay
throws against the sea.
There are some small fishing boats
in colours of blue,
orange and white
that sails into the sea,
but big white cabin cruisers
bobs up and down
next to the quay
some distance away
as if they are ownerless
while their bosses
play somewhere else.
The smell of sea-pike
roasting on coals
lies on the light wind
and their stomachs growl
of sudden hunger
and here and there
the girl stoops
to pick up shells.
His sturdy boots leaves flat tracts
on the firm sand
and there’s a brown wood walking stick
with a lion head in his hand
and the girl’s
bare foot tracts
run in advance.
The sea swishes in and out
and the wet sand
reflects a bright open day
and the blue water
stretches out
as far as you can see
and it’s as if he gets new power
next to the foaming water.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I'm On Fire
Sparks are flying and I'm on fire.
I can't see through the smoke and I'm on fire.
I can't breath, I can't think
Because I'm on fire.
It hurts but it's warm and it's beautiful
You're feeding my fire
My fire of love
And I'm burning alive
And I'm loving everything about you
From how you make me feel to the flames glowing around me
But you're killing me in this heat
Can't you understand that fire is wonderful and terrible?
Can't you save me from falling further under the flames' embrace?
Can't you see I'm on fire?
poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu
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Lion at the zoo
Golden eyes full of death
stares back at me
and I can almost smell,
the scent of meat
on it’s breath.
One of its paws strikes threatening
while the yellow-brown tail swishes to and thro
and I see a row of deadly nails spiked in it.
It’s ivory white teeth
glitters in the sunlight,
when it opens its jaws.
a Thundering roar close to me
let the hairs on my arms rise
and I see the pink inside of its mouth.
.
It paces up and down
and keeps on watching me and there’s symmetry
in every step that it takes.
When it walks away
I see a black spot at the end of its tail
and it disappears into the long grass.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire.
quote by Solomon Ibn Gabirol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Darkness
I
The twilight is framed and covered in black,
drawn closed on the one side,
when suddenly it carries blue-white thunder
that burns sparking, it's deadly risky,
where no sign of any moon
rise up against the closed night sky,
there are only thunder flashes hitting flickering
without a sign of the Southern Cross
and still the earth waits on drops of rain
to start their irrigation
when a shower continuously patters down,
seeping into the deep ground,
thunderbolts reports constantly
while twilight falls silver over the beach.
II
While twilight falls silver over the beach
the neon lights of the night glitter,
cut-off from the whole universe
as if each one is waiting for discovery
and it's as if the backwash wants to
pull you deeper into the sea,
in the space where the great ocean stretches
and there is something in each dream and wish
like that Wide Ocean unlimited
that waits free without any bonds,
as if each day and night
works together in a perfect balance,
as if the darkness keeps you for moments,
here where the dark night now folds around me.
III
Here where the dark night now folds around me.
I hear your steps coming closer
the wild wind jerks some of the windows open,
in thunder I am stripped from you
and grief will after years have an impact
that still strips me down roughly
from reason and all kinds of hope,
to keep you against me once more.
The much deeper pain of only being human
does not want to subside in my heart, in my soul,
and sometimes like now with full fury
it becomes real in each thought, in fear,
outside purity is in everything,
as if the white street light shines with sympathy.
IV
As if the white street light shines with sympathy
the city lies stretched out in the distance
as if it is a gigantic spaceship
that continually draws people to it
of which the lights flash on and off
when travellers in their cars come near,
bright lights are seen from a distance
while people gather at many places.
At places the lights are blinding
where people revel at each kind of place
or as if it wants to takeoff with a wild wind
while the darkness of the city stretches out wide,
I wonder where people go soulless;
it's night with a very small crescent moon.
V
It's night with a very small crescent moon
that hangs somewhat shameful in the darkness,
at places shadows catch my eyes,
with popular branches swishing about,
I can swear something is following me for a while,
somewhere something hisses like a cat or snake,
I stretch my steps and am far too scared
to look back or now to stop walking,
it's as if something is suddenly blowing in my neck,
now I am afraid, my arm hairs raise
and I hear the churchyard gate moaning shrilly
while I am in a much greater hurry,
against my back there's a cold shiver,
with open eyes I pray for God to protect me.
VI
With open eyes I pray for God to protect me,
see some old tramps standing around a fire
when a black cat suddenly moans next to me,
while I see coals with flames rising.
It's only a big cat moving next to me
and I bend down and stroke it gently,
it's no unearthly kind of thing
as I had imagined,
above us stars are blazing the night full,
prostitutes triple on like display-dolls,
on the horizon lights are red, yellow and white
one whistles at me while I pass them,
three stand astride arguing with each other,
one girl draws up her blouse and I walk past.
VII
One girl draws up her blouse and I walk past,
I see breasts in their finest detail,
wonder how people live in this godless city,
every thing is getting worse than it had been.
I am alone and almost late
to get bread and milk at the Spar
and I cross the busy street,
hear them call in a choir at me
where one of the girls pulls her skirt up
showing her legs and a white panty,
trying her best to arouse desires,
I catch the smell of vinegar, chips and aniseed
while she begs: Come along with me;
the twilight is framed and covered in black.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire/Burning
Burning through the forset,
Flames of orange, red and yellow,
Lick at the trees and plants,
Scorching everything in its path,
Fire.
Burning my skin,
Leaving smoke and heat,
In it's wake,
Torching my hair,
Fire
A thing of beauty,
And warmth,
But feasr it also,
For its scorching heat,
Fire.
Burning my heart,
Blood fueling the flames,
Love as its oxygen,
The Burning desire,
Fire.
poem by McKenzie Mickey
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My Fire
I have been lonely before.
Listing between friends.
Going through the motions again and again.
Adding the moments together,
like salty drops of tears in a bitter pool.
Living a life of tepid comfort.
Without passion, fire, flame.
Like a man in a cold room
Warm and wrapped in a blanket
Comfortable, but longing for fire
For the feeling of heat on his back
With his shoulder naked
And his eyes closed
This is how I see you.
You are the fire.
You are the warm glowing embers.
The black and red hot coals
And the blue fire licking the edges
I have been lonely before.
If only I had the courage to open my eyes
You would be my fire.
http: //www.lostinmydream.blogspot.com
poem by Cordell Rich
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The night watchman
The fire in the holed drum burns bright
and I can see red coals flickering
like the shining stars up in the sky
and white teeth smiles at me
while I walk by
and the night watchman puffs at a cigarette
and with sharp eyes watches
from his black overcoat
as if nothing passes him
with one hand holding a baton
and somewhere up there
eternally a watchman guards
while the lights of his fires beacons the night
against the dark, against evil things.
[References: Nagwag (night watchman) by DJ Opperman and the nightwatchman by Fhazel Johennesse.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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End in fire
If anger was the beginning of this story then only in flames could it end
With strings so thin even a breeze makes them bend
That’s the rope which you walk on that’s the way I feel right now
I could shout and drag this on for days
Because my anger is surely enough to set even hell ablaze
You seem to know just what to say to make all my good go away
Now you’re stuck with a monster this fury, this danger
Yet you stand there unmoved by the calamity you sought
You stand there unshaved by the dread
You make me mad, drive me up a wall
It’s in anger that I write this all
Yet even reading it seems to be a moment for you to send me back to anger
Oh murder is all that’s left in me the last resort my retort
So as you sleep and rest tonight free of fright
My anger, my desire will be to set you on fire
poem by Adens Kamwi
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Ages Flicker in the Hot Fire
Ages flicker in the hot fire
where I sit in the bar
time passes slowly hour-by-hour,
my face reflects in the glass, somewhat confused
the flames jump bright orange, blue and white,
ages flicker in the hot fire
with shades playing on the wall of the fireplace
and deeper something fries like on a spit,
time passes slowly hour-by-hour
someone complains about his wife, wants to hire prostitutes
while a couple sit down at a table with a candle,
ages flicker in the hot fire,
outside the thunder bashes down, my whisky is very expensive,
the candle in front of me burns down to its end,
time passes slowly hour-by-hour
then I see you, pretty and my match
I cannot avoid your eyes,
ages flicker in the hot fire
time passes slowly hour-by-hour.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Siren Of Fire
Fire:
When the water turns to mist
And the flames are rising high
I'll appear to you my darling
To wipe the tears from your eyes
I'll dance around the fire pit
Running wild with the flames
But as soon as the fire is out
I'll leave you without so much as my name
Water:
When water extinguishes the flame
It will also extinguish me
I will leave you to yourself
To soak in memory
When the land is watered down
And you stand beside the sea
Look for the bonfires
For that is where you'll find me
Burned:
Don't play with fire dearest
You know you will be burned
Leave the flames to me my love
They remind me of how I've yearned
For the sensation of my fire
That keeps our passions hot
I'll stay with you until the tide comes in
But after, I cannot
Drowned:
They douse the flames with water
Putting out the light
I drown with the flames
That ensnared you all night
I cannot stay with you now
My flames have been drowned out
But remember whenever you need me
Fire will bring me about
poem by Tatianna Rei Moonshadow
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Fire And Smoke
Fire And Smoke
red as searing hot
the flames of desire
fanned by yesterdays thoughts
' collected visions, relived investments '
gone realities in burned debris
beginnings born from empty arms
stirred the fire as ashes waft
warmth friction sparks blazes high
broken branches are bodies spent
gratefully torched the flame subsides
resistant coals of burnished red
reminisce the temperature of last nights fire
spent fire works lay cold and damp
fragments used now used up
burned and gone ashes now gray
in the smoke of lingering ideas
who carries the torch in today's heart?
a matchbook moment to ready the fire
restore the heat of passions desire
quell the flames that still are warm.
Myrtle Thomas
poem by Myrtle Thomas
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At the hunting lodge
The hunter’s.308 Musgrave hunting rifle
lies next to him in pieces
in the faint light of the hunting lodge
where he is cleaning the weapon
and in the distance a jackal
is calling at dusk,
he notices a swarm of wild doves
landing in the marula tree.
When the parts of the weapon
is joined as it belongs,
he carefully puts the weapon away
before he walks out
joining his wife at the barbeque fire
and the smell of fried lamb chops
makes his stomach growl
while he takes a pair of frying tongs from her,
turning around strings of sausages
above them the stars in the night sky
are shot-gunned into the black,
there are hyenas attracted by the smell
of the frying meat
laughing behind some trees,
somewhere he hears a kudu snorting
and the moon hangs yellow-gold above them
while he stirs the porridge
in the black three-legged pot
and his wife can swear
that a leopard with glowing eyes
is peering at them.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Dancing with the flames
Dancing with the flames
a fiery gypsy’s dance –
Fire in our hearts, fire in the trees,
fire on the sky…
Touched with fire
we want to catch the flames....
Dancing with the flames
we feel the rainbow fire,
we feel the fire’s warmth,
we see the fiery lady
dancing with the gypsys
so magical, so dangerous…
We feel the breath of fire’s world,
we feel the spirit of the fire,
we hear the rhapsody
of the fire’s wild flames…
poem by KrystynaMaria Postawa
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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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