Incandescent Dragon Destiny
Self-feeding, the fire
desires its own warmth, and warms
to its own desire
Fire and brimstone lay all bare: birth, mirth, dearth earth berth soon prepare.
Great, low, brash dash, ash grate's despair, pride rider, beggar, rich, austere.
Play folds after brief fame flare, tide turns, life burns, urn earns; no prayer
staves off brave, weakling wear and tear, which singes all beyond repair.
Time self-devours, each century is swallowed by that which follows free
from here until eternity. Frost's 'Fire and Ice' identity
from tip to tail tale pours, paws flee unveiled combustion nth degree
that scorch, torch, porch and family: our incandescent destiny.
Today, blank slate but barely scratched
must soon, with predecessors matched,
discover that it is dispatched
beneath time's stubble that sees hatched
new generation Lethe latched
which, pauper, plays with paper patched
until, in turn, from earth 'tis snatched.
Tomorrow, many may not see, Tomorrow turns to history,
and thence returns as all must be re-archived with celerity
as flightless Phoenix cannot key unanswered moral mystery.
His story, her uncertainty, together R.I.P. oubli.
Between the two, one's too aware of pointlessness, that splitting hair
precarious may prove! Beware of splits sectarian, unfair
intolerance, of jealous stare, of petty squabble stirs whose blare
rouse Time's dragon from its lair, till self-consumed are match, strike, flare.
(14 May 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Late Slate Date Statement 1841
Today, blank slate but barely scratched
must soon, with predecessors matched,
discover that it is dispatched
beneath time's stubble which sees hatched
new generation Lethe latched
which, pauper, plays with paper patched
until, in turn, from earth is snatched.
Tomorrow, many may not see,
Tomorrow turns to history,
and thence returns as all must be
re-archived with celerity,
unanswered moral mystery.
His story, her uncertainty
together R.I.P. oubli.
Between the two, one's too aware
of pointlessness that splitting hair
precarious may prove! Beware
of splits sectarian, unfair
intolerance, of jealous stare,
of petty squabble stirs whose blare
rouse Time's dragon from its lair.
(16 January 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fiery Love
I stare into the fire
it signifies my desire
leaping creeping and all red flames,
fire,
and its beauty hypnotizing,
fire
and its flames uprising.
sparks showering in the night,
feeding fires of lesser might,
fire feeding on life and air,
fire that lays landscapes bare,
fire that warms the heart and soul,
fire that drives away the cold,
fire thats as hot as the heat within,
fire that seeks to erase my sin,
fire promises of days to come,
fire that will unite us as one,
and then I pray for the same desire
will sometimes too ignite your fire,
two lovers burning
consumed with flames,
the ashes of their love
ignite again and again
poem by Arti Chopra
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The Meaning Of It All
Are we born to die someday?
Or go about hankering after friends, fortune and fame everyday?
I know not what to do today,
I know what I am today is because of yesterday.
I know what I will be tomorrow is because of today.
Life is a like a fire which keeps on burning and burning
Life is full of desires and despair,
Raise your desire as high as the fire.
Never let yourself to be burnt in the fire of despair.
Death need not to be feared,
For when it nears, you are not there.
Burn in Desire
dont play with fire
dont fondle my desire
becasue im burning like hell
inside this shell
ashes of my sin
enticed by what could have been
baby dont play with my fire
you'll burn in desire
i tell you to runaway
with me you wont stay
pure, but burned clean to the bone
with the burning edge in my tone
push you away
dont suffer my stay
just runaway
from the fire that plays
with your heart
your desire
ive caught you
you burn in my fire
cant fight away
what we know
will kill us, but in anyway
we cant let go
cant burn me out
black me out
get me out of your head
why the screaming?
your already dead
from desire
of this fire
kid dont play with fire
you take sin offered in my hand
im only a tease
smoldering what you understand
to a fire that cant please
only the thirst
that hurts
it rips us to pieces
beware of me
ill burn you eyes black
till you cant see
life from lust
or what to trust
i give you desire
now burn in fire
im your simple desire
take me, burn in fire
dancing with tongues of a devil
scorching sins
runaway, and ill take you again
ive told you my plans
but you hold my hand
smoldered by embers in my eyes
i hkkope you know this fire wont ever die
it burns in me
burns me up to death
till all i see
is passion, and death to the rest
take regret with the pain
going to hell
its all the same
driven by sin
all over again
play with fire
consumed with desire
poem by Kathryn Garner
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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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Lighted
Great books call on us, to tell,
The reason of all ill fate,
Is only the burning desire.
Now I strongly ask,
Who does not have?
With time I answered it.
From common man,
To the Lord above,
All are lighted with fire,
The fire of desire.
If not, why is the earth?
And why is life in it?
Is it this fire, that,
Moves the earth and life?
Yes, so burn with fire,
The fire of desire.
poem by Santhosh Vijayakumar
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The Dragon and The Phoenix (version one)
The Dragon and The Phoenix (version one) :
The sleeping Tiger lies in a mist, covered in mystery.
Who is he, what is his purpose?
The sleeping Flame lies in a cloud, shrouded by time.
Who is she, what is her purpose?
As the could falls in the night, and mingles in the mist... the Flame touches the Tiger and both awaken. The Flame brightens and swirls around the Tiger, the Tiger roars as the flames engulf him and he transforms into the wise Dragon. The Flame crackles as the Dragon's roar sounds through the night. The crackle becomes a cry of joy as the Dragon breathes a breath of fire upon the Flame, adding his burning love to hers. The Flame turns into a fiery bird with a great
cry. A Phoenix has been born, and a Dragon has grown in the fires of love. This bond forged is stronger than steel, stronger than the very foundations of the earth.
Nothing and no one can break this love. The love of the Dragon and the Phoenix will live beyond the end of time, their hearts forever entwined. Purpose has been found, the balance formed by the Dragon and Phoenix that awakened them is their purpose. The love they share forever is a shining light for all who despair; the Dragon and Phoenix are smiled upon by the Creator for they are what he intended love between two to be.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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In Parenthesis
Bright mirror which sheds light on silent screen,
impartial witness to ephemeris,
another day reflects on other scene,
and never breathes a hint of that or this, -
a silver slate which undisturbed has been
awaits mercurial metamorphosis.
Mirror reflects men’s absence, slate wiped clean,
with birth and death, ecstatic wedded bliss
traces stayed from Lethe’s grim demesne
scarce an instant. Swiftly we dismiss
this sweetest memory, that pain most keen, -
can love transcend, bend, challenge Time’s abyss?
The player gamely plays, acts out last scene,
indifferent to applause or heckler’s hiss, -
before [s]he’s buried someone slips between
the lines, into old shoes, yet who will miss
a century ahead King’s head or Queen,
love’s kiss, pride, honour vain, or cowardice?
A puff of Time, - time as time’s bluff is seen, -
sees Life Time’s capsule in parenthesis.
The stuff of life an empty stuffing, gene, -
transfer template, tomorrow’s synthesis.
Yet who returns for encore ex-machine?
Tomorrow? - Well, tomorrow’s parting kiss
sets springboard for fresh ripples' ripples bis,
for new tomorrows proving Man remiss...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Judgment Day
Judgment Day will soon be here, what do Christians have to fear?
Nothing, for they know The Truth, we shall not see God's Reproof,
The judgment that shall be poured, down on the earth by The Lord,
Christians are upon another path, and will not see the Lord's Wrath.
Believers, will be judged in His Love, at Christ's Bema Seat above,
We too will be judged, for our works, which will have eternal perks,
For all the things done for our Lord, we may receive eternal reward,
But, for all done by selfish desire, those works, will be burnt in fire,
If we do above face any trouble, it shall be hay, wood and stubble,
As all our works, Christ shall define, through the Fire of His design,
All that makes it through the fire, were our works of His pure desire,
As on earth we served Jesus Christ, during our temporal earthly life.
After this, a Supper with The Lamb, up above with The Great "I AM."
Dining with Jesus Christ, our Lord, Who, down here, we've adored,
During that time upon the earth, now in Heaven, through New Birth,
For at the time that we believed, Eternal Life from Him we received.
Through Wrath we need not to cope, as His Judgment is our Hope,
For we'll be taken from this earth, up into Heaven, in our New Birth,
Now perfect, with Christ for all time, all through God's pure design,
To return to former ways, never, but, to reign with The Lord forever.
(Copyright ©09/2012)
What's The Hurry Down Here
Everyone is in such a hurry seemingly with no time to think how fast,
People In such a rush to get nowhere in a time that won't even last.
This time is fleeting by so quickly and your fate has long been cast,
And today's time that you treat so quickly is tomorrow's empty past.
Rushing around like there's no tomorrow, where will your tomorrow be?
This is a thought you need time to ponder as you approach eternity.
Time in eternity will be much different as rushing it won't require,
One immediate concern however is, will you be in Glory or the fire?
The fate of eternity has been sealed in a place that is much higher,
But God has left your final destination up to your very own desire.
This is where our programmed haste needs to be put on hold for sure,
For although life on earth is brief eternity will go on forevermore.
Friend we are both alike in that we are both created and are mortal,
But earthly things will pass away as we go through an eternal portal.
It doesn't matter where you choose to go as a body will be prepared,
But the lasting differences between two choices can not be compared.
The wise that chose Heaven will reap eternal reward from labors past,
But empty darkness awaits the fool in fire that will eternally last.
Satan wants you to be preoccupied so that you're eternally ensnared,
But God has furnished witnesses so you're not eternally unprepared.
(Copyright © 05/2003)
What Lies Beneath?
From pulp to palpitation cycles spin.
Some trace a line or two, leaves from life's tree
imprint upon collective memory -
the music of the spheres, a melody
transcending time itself and its oubli,
provide emotions and tonality
which, although evanescent, all would win,
to find oasis of serenity, -
cool shade not shadow of humanity, -
amidst the desert of incessant din
of universal static all would flee.
The flotsam of time's bark one need not pin
down too precisely. Much dexterity
excludes from fields of vision feelings free
which life enrich with spice we sense, not see, -
like perfume on the winds of change to key
ambiance of death or dance, chance we
must find to take, create to breathe, as in
a trance we dream we age by Fate's decree....
or else we drown in ephemerity.
Page turns before most even may begin
to taste their birthright - inner harmony.
Page turns before most balance yang and yin,
they hungry hang in fear and equally
protest vain light and night's eternity.
Between expectancy, acceptancy,
receding hairline space defines 'to be'
against a background continuity
where change - to which when young they felt akin -
turns traitor, turns on former guarantee
to formalize a fress integrity
based upon another Benjamin
before whose might old generations flee.
Few understand what lies beneath life's skin,
can cause, effect, decode with probity,
can probe, decipher mo[ve]ment's mystery,
can step by step retrace through history
their story sense endowed. Most men agree
to hide behind their own effrontery
rather than face their ‘present’ destiny
whose cards tomorrow's possibility
can for today's success deal seamlessly.
Few understand to start is to begin
to undermine all false security.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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As Life is Mirage - Acrostic Sonnet
As dusk to dawn succeeds, so death to birth,
Swift arcs the arrow, with the ark of man,
Lost on Time’s sea, while his allotted span
Is soon forgotten, dry-docked, - narrow berth.
For dust to dust returns, earth turns to earth;
Each sickled moon a sickly herald, wan,
Is witness to impermanence. The plan
Spins to Fate’s farce fast ending. Light and mirth
Must fade or jade before they prove their worth.
In earnest, blazing brightly, nothing can
Remain eternal, beacon Hope can’t scan,
And flame as ‘fixèd mark’ – and so its dearth,
Ghost mirage, mocks love’s life and locks life’s love -
End is in sight, flight spent, expressed above.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Will anybody care? - April 2012 Version
Hurt heart thumps through stark torrent's spew, pain's veins pump vain despair,
why wishing-well what world would do when one's no longer there?
Why worry who will bed or woo, misled wed base affair,
each age sends stage page scene anew, pent rage vents spleen, sad snare.
Once wraith what faith may comfort, who contentment finds? Aware
are all their nightmare fall supplies no paradise, skies fair.
Dank dark doom leaves grieve hung with dew, shaved, stumpy trees stripped bare,
gibbering ghosts, grey-greenish hue shade shiver in sharp air.
Life's dream team options, once bright blue, tarnish too soon, to wear
down most, ghost host, who must crust rust, while few pad out lust's lair
beyond the seemy rhyming schemes of blushing Baudelaire -
whored guilty conscience safely stored, bribes poured for greased palm tare.
Burnt bridge of sighs quite cuts in two split city's spirit spare,
and therefore, by extension, too, links life to - God knows where.
Wan lie acquaintanceships one knew, affection two should share,
while once exciting avenue of life seems impasse where
old vaunted haunts time's rimed review now daunts. For void prepare.
Is life just bitter pill, missed cue, in chaos swilled to bear
hate's weight, tears, fears untimely due where conscience cries beware!
Is life strife rife where favoured few waste privileges rare,
compared to who pimp scrimp limp through misfortunes most unfair?
Is life rewarding revenue splurge surge merge urge shows heir,
or drudge through sludge where cudgel slew Earth goddess Gaïa's.
Is life return bienvenue or one way ticket scare
descending into maggot stew, hell burned urn's ashen layer?
Is life some sort of déjà vu, self-referencing stare
through mirror that, whate'er ensue, backs to black disrepair?
Is life sharp knife, fine furs, long queue, stores' gaudy glitter glare -
or superficial residue, fast sacrificed false flair?
Is life's brief leaf, grief sheaf shoal reefed, half-hearted whole, farce flare,
or black hole disbelief, soul thief, ploughed under everywhere?
fixed rictus grin whose rigour grim begins tale's tail-end tear,
sin's karmic spin where lose not win cues feud forebear forswear?
Is life pride ride soon set aside, tried sentenced, treatment square
too rarely met, signed with forget-me, knot loose noose to bear
until at last will's pain is cast to wind of change none share,
which willy-nilly blows away race, trace face-value's layer.
Is Life a story book that takes wake's glory down? Truth blare
becomes when ignorance, dumb drum, would triumph everywhere.
Death steals love's breath as Time's wheels churn, night's nothingness prepare,
stars silence scream, beg, borrow theme for no tomorrow fair
as dawn to dusk drains life which wanes to darkness' husk, no clair
de lune or moonlight tune, write cemetry pied à terre.
None raindrops know 'neath purple sky, fame pops, life stops right there.
Beware where ego's overblown for bonus billionaire
whose bogus option package acts as sham incentive, where
crass top brass brash lop-sided cash expend on solitaire
to grace cute hand who wedding band pretends was never there.
Beware star system beaut's short skirts, beau's silk shirts, suits mohair,
soon boom turns bust must break both bank and back of proletaire
when pensions' dust proves worthless, earth polluted by oil flare:
as oil slick spreads some feather beds that nest eggs gilt prepare.
Once whole, now sole, soul sees right through coal hole's lacklustre air
where honest labour's revenue few faithfully declare
as greed grinds need to feed seed funds, tax shelter debonnaire,
scheme pyramid, insider bid, mid hid guilt's laissez-faire.
Forlorn men boxed, with scarce a clue, worn faces, torn white hair,
from uniformity of view hurt turns, spurned everywhere.
For karma new, nor whisper, prayer, imaginary dare,
splash, lonely bubbles - struggles through.
Will anybody care?
(8 April 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Maybe Tomorrow
Maybe tomorrow and I will see, if I have time to ponder on Eternity.
For I have no time to contemplate, that is something that can wait.
I have many things to do today, and I have no time along the way.
Eternity is not important my friend, it’s a long time before the end.
It may be short or it may be long, be prepared you won’t go wrong.
For everyone will go in time, your departure is different than mine.
Some counting on tomorrow, will leave this earth in much sorrow.
While those prepared to depart, will leave earth with a joyful heart.
There are men who can’t conceive, in the afterlife that we believe.
They just can not comprehend, that things continue after they end,
After they end, here on the earth; temporal home of a natural birth.
For after your body ceases to be, the soul continues on for eternity.
In your own heart you can prepare, to meet The Lord up in the air.
There are men who’ll have no part, of letting Christ into their heart.
Even if you’re just not sure, you my friend, will still meet The Lord.
For it is destined for all my friend, to face His Judgment in the end.
As you live your earthly life, what are you doing about Jesus Christ?
When all here is said and done, are you ready to meet God’s Son?
That is when the world shall see, that ahead for all men is Eternity.
But for you to have Eternal Life, today you must accept Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©10/2005)
Self-feeding, the fire
desires its own warmth, and warms
to its own desire.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (10 January 1989)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Not Threaten Me With Fire My Love
do not threaten me with the fire of your body my love
for i am a man born of fire and shall die of fire
i eat fire, i bathe in fire, i swim in the deepest part of fire
i like to burn in the fire that you start
from your flicker, from the flints of your gaze
i like to see this hearth, this warmth, this conflagration
you with me burning like hell
do not threaten me with the fire of your thighs
for i eat fire, my body is fire, it is alive with its heat
my sweat are the smokes of fire
my end is the char that stays beside your legs
and tomorrow morning when i finally die
when i am put off by your power
you shall find me as burnt residues
beneath your feet
i am the offering of love to life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am Ash
do not threaten me with the fire of your body my love
for i am a man borne of fire and shall die of fire
i eat fire, i bathe in fire, i swim in the deepest part of fire
i like to burn in the fire that you start
from your flicker, from the flints of your gaze
i like to see this hearth, this warmth, this conflagration
you with me burning like hell
do not threaten me with the fire of your thighs
for i eat fire, my body is fire, it is alive with its heat
my sweat fumes are the smokes of fire
my end is the char that stays beside your legs
and tomorrow morning when i finally die
when i am put off by your power
you shall find me as burnt residues
beneath your feet
i am ash
the offering of love to life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Body's Diary
Earth made for earthly world
Turns earth into man
Notwithstanding love is soul bred.
Sleep struck, plays dead,
Warm to touch but what's warmer
Awaken by the dream of the real
Unlinks to relink to link few can think-
Eternity contained in time-
Through a hole in our life
Of which we know nothing
As unaware the' wear and tear', we wear
Is but a corpse masqueraded as body.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
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Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire, to be extinguished
He had a taste for her; his desire caught fire.
He was mad for her echo; his fire grew violent.
He elicited her nod; his fire went ablaze.
He found her moving out; his fire remained intense.
His grip is loosening; his fire is flickering.
Time may split them apart; his fire will be soaked.
Then he will smear that ash with air and pride,
Till he himself becomes ash on the pyre.
21.11.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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