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A liitle smile/Mali osmjeh

a little smile
a little cry
i want to stay with a ray
for it seems to understand
the meaning of a sunbeam
against the sky that slowly virms
the last of ages the fourth of times
that cracks like fire and soul
and burns itself in a language
that never goes beyond
the microeconomic terms of contract
for an ill hailed host
paragraph sealed

mala suza mali osmjeh
ja zelim da ostanem sa zrakom
jer izgleda ona razumije
zna; enje zrake sunca
spram neba sto polako virmuje
posljednje doba cetvrto vrijeme
sto puca ko vatra i dusa
i samo sebe sagorijeva u jednom jeziku
[to nikada ne ide preko
malodomacinskih tacaka ugovora
za zlom oslovljenig domacina
u paragrafu zapecacenom

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A descendant of fire

what became first - fire or ash

'you'll melt like a candle in a little pool of wax
a face sealed by the spirit of wax
you'll burn like thoughts on a bonfire of words
for you are the fire that burns itself'
an arsonist said with wax in his eyes
'in a homeless whisper you're a broken flamelet
in the time of fire that swallows itself'

but a particle of ash is a fire descendant
and to burn is its wisdom

šta je prvo nastalo - vatra ili pepeo

'istopiceš se ko svijeca u barici voska
duhom voska zapecacen lik
goreceš ko misli na lomaci rijeci
jer ti si vatra koja samu sebe prži
rece mi palikuca sa voskom u ocima
'u bezdomnom šapatu spaljeni žižak
u vremenu vatre koja samu sebe guta'

ali cestica pepela potomak je vatre
i da gori njena je mudrost

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Unwritten Soul

Is the soul of freedom
Doesn’t let be written by a human hand
Is the soul of stardom
It’ll let be written in the Heaven’s land
Is the soul tender passion
Spilling her smiles across the hearth
The soul of compassion
Bathing in her mirth
Is the soul of growth
That will never sink
It’s an open troth
For everyone to drink
An angelic soul
Shining in her shade
Beautiful soul
God blessed and made

Dedicated to Unwritten Soul

Nesipisana Duša

Je duša slobode
Ne da se pisati ljudskom rukom
Je duša zvjezdana
Da se ispisati Nebeskom zemljom
Je duša nježne strasti
Što osmjehe prosipa ognjištem
Je duša saosjeć anja
Što se u veselju kupa
Je duša rasta
Koji nikada ne tone
Je kao otvorene jasle
Sa kojih svi piju
Je anđ eoska duša
Što sija u svojoj sjenci
Prelijepa duša
Bogom stvorena blagoslovena

Posveć eno Neispisanoj Duši

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Vatra I Sutra

u šaci strepnje istine gore
suza vremena u njoj tiho gine
s kapija uskih razum i stid zbore
u naručju tihom da se lako vine

vatra i sutra riječ i vrijeme
i umrlog konja tihi sap
mraz i jutra plameno sjeme
i promrzlog dodira kap

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Beat Of Sorrow That Thinks Of Beauty/Otkucaj Tuge Sto Ljepotu Mni

it takes a memory that runs over itself
to get to learn and endless southern rhythm
it takes a fire that burns itself down
to get to know an ocean wave
it takes tender enough strong enough fingers
to summerize anything into a touch
so that the heard amidst the things could recognise
a beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty

it takes much more and reaches much stronger
to ask for more to search and look
so as to eventually know
the one in the seed of wake planted
the being cut off from itself
into the cliffs of the world pushed forever
it takes a huge knowledge an endless one
of this world's drama
for just one beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty

otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je sjećanje koje samo sebe gazi
da bi se spoznao beskrajni ritam juga
potrebna je vatra koja samu sebe spaljuje
da bi se spoznao okeanov talas
potrebni su dovoljno nježni i snažni prsti
da bi se išta saželo u dodir
da bi srce u srži svega moglo da prepozna
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni

potrebno je mnogo više mnogo snažnije
da se ište dalje da se traži
da bi se najzad saznalo
ono u sjemenu buđenja začeto
od sebe samog otkinuto biće
u urvine svijeta zauvijek bačeno
potrebno je jedno veliko beskrajno veliko
poznavanje drame ovog svijeta
za samo jedan otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni

1990.

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Last night

Last night I asked the drop
what nobody had dared to ask before
I said
come on, isn't it time you washed my face
isn't it time you stopped falling in tears
isn't it time for me to drink you
isn't it time for you to touch me
isn't it time for me to see the world within you
come on, what are you waiting for
why don't you finally fall down
that was the rage of a dead chicken

Sinoc sam rekla kaplji
sto joj niko ranije nije smio reci
rekla sam
hajde, nije li vrijeme da me umijes
nije li vrijeme da suzom prestanes
nije li vrijeme da te popijem
nije li vrijeme da dotaknes
nije li vrijeme da u tebi sagledam svijet
hajde sta cekas
zasto vec jednom prosto ne kanes
bio je to bijes mrtvog pileta

Miroslava Odalovic

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fire forever (Nafaka)

the rings of fire I’ll throw into the sky
let the twilight burn let it burn the night
the fires of souls down the river flow
fire and yesterday fire and tomorrow
fire forever

the thought of fire I’ll burn under my fingers
let the breath into the chains into the chains
let there be a fire
let there be a darkness
the morning in chains let it burn

hundreds of bracelets decorate the hands
what you can hear is the sound of their ashes
let them butn the touches into the dust
big fires upon the horizon
the fire of dawn
the fire of twilight
the fire of midnight
fire forever

and just two tiny earings of pain
on the ears to remain like little flames
cracking listening
for everything to go away
within a red memory
fire forever

and two tiny earings of pain
beyond a dusty curse in eternity to meet
let them burn in touch let them burn in passion
for everything broken in suffering to go away
fire forever

vatra zauvijek

prstenja od vatre u nebesa bacicu
da gori sumrak da gori noc
pozari dusa niz velike rijeke neka poteku
vatra i juce vatra i danas vatra i sutra
vatra zauvijek

pod prstima sprzicu misao vatre
u lance u lance neka ide dah
neka bude pozar
neka bude mrak
neka sagori u okovima jutro

narukvica sto neka kiti ruke
to sto zvecka pepeo je njihov
zvukom da sagore dodiri do praha
pozari veliki na horizontu
pozar svitanja pozar sumraka pozar ponoci
vatra zauvijek

i dvije male mindjuse od bola
na usima neka ostanu ko plamicak
od svjetla neka se sastavi
slusanje pucketanje
da nestane sve u crvenom sjecanju
vatra zauvijek

i dvije male mindjuse od bola
nad urokom od praha neka se sastave u vjecnost
dodirom neka sagore strascu da se sprze
da nestane sve patnjom satrveno
vatra zauvijek
velika vatra prociscenja

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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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I met people who did not know

How to pick up a lily
And that its skin breaks under the steel
Of a too long gaze from the mountain top
And that its petal knows nothing of its root
And that the night falls only when it lowers the buds
Thirsty of the sun and the sun's only the wolf's one
Howling at the wounds of a torn out flower

Srela sam ljude koji nisu znali
Kako se bere ljiljan
I da njegova koža puca pod celikom
Suviše dugog pogleda sa vrha planina
I da njegova peteljka ne zna njegov korijen
I da kad spusti latice tek onda padne noc
Žedna sunca a ono samo vucje
Zavija na rane pokidanog cvijeta

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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You, very human/Ti, veoma ljudsko

you who are everything out of your nothing
you co-builder co-creator
you whom I'm building and you're being torn down
you a participant of my answer
someone facing the otherness
I facing myself
you facing yourself
you very human sometimes too much
sometimes not at all
a token inhaled into dust
you a tribe you a nation you a world
you the skin of the sun the desert the night and the snow
you always the same
your heart and mind paving heaven and hell
you who are everything out of your nothing

ti koji si sve od svoga nista
ti sa-graditelj sa-tvoritelj
ti što te gradim a ti se razgradjujes
ti sa-ucesnik mog odgovora
spram drugosti neko
spram sebe ja
spram tebe ti
ti veoma ljudsko nekad isuviše
nekad uopšte
ti pleme ti narod ti svijet
umom i srcem poplocan pakao i raj
ti koji si sve od svoga ništa

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Your eyes beyond the sky- Tvoje oci iznad neba

your eyes beyond the sky
the most innocent, I know
they will survive
all the burns of the body
and preserve the soul

for - all that you watched
for - the nightmare on the nuclear trash
and the breath left on the split atom
once all these things
will have to take a rest

tvoje oci iznad neba
najnevinije, znam
one ce preživjeti
sve opekotine tijela
i sacuvati dušu
jer - sve što si gledao
jer - nocna mora na nuklearnom otpadu
i dah ostavljen na pocijepanom atomu
sve to jednom morace
da se odmori

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Gde zeka pije vodu

U sokaku ćorsokaku
Il u mraku
Tu za kvaku

Pa kod vrata
Il kod brata
Polubrata s trećeg sprata

Il kod peći
Takoreći
Zaklon prvi ili treći

Il kad vruće
Pa od kuće
Kano ptica otcvrkuće

Kad komšija nešto svija
Pa da šija
Ne ćarlija

Mrda brke
Evo frke

Vetrić mali
Glava fali

Ode glava a i rep
Zeka beše baš baš lep

Niz potočić suza taknu
Zeku vetrić samo maknu

Niz rečicu jauk teče
Vetrić vetrić mnogo peče

Pa sad kaž'te tužno li je
Gde to zeka vodu pije

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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How to interpret the distance between two smiles/Kako protumaciti razmak izmedju dva osmjeha

It should be interpreted as an attempt to reconcile a plus and a minus, black and white, the poor and the rich. Like tranquility between two joys in which the first one calls the second one using the bridge of the unsaid. Some people go so far as to interpret the distance between two smiles through tears, blood or simply an inexpressible sorrow. Some interpret it as a way to preserve both smiles. The length of a smile is of no importance. It does not make any difference whether a smile is 2mm or 2 light years long, there's always a space which can contain the possibility of coming closer or distancing. Smileness in each case is a precondition for any kind of approaching.
Or it may end up in a Pavlov's reflex that does not reflect anything. And what is a smile at all? There are different ways to determine this and each one of them slips any kind of definition.
Chronologically speaking a smile is a living time it takes to put the corners of our lips upwards to get in the first touch with the other being. According to its purpose it carries the burdens of goals just like bags full of hours spent in waiting for a smile from the other side of a bridge. A smile can be a means to an end, an instrument of compulsion that we sometimes use for practice in the morning after we've washed our face and brushed our teeth for it's time to get out, leave ourselves and devote time to the others that standing in front of their mirrors disinfect their own smileness.
It's something like a business smile which if we practice it to the point of perfection can make us rich.
A smile can carry anything from a living quiver of love to a complete frozenness. There are many things that can get frozen on our lips. The problem arises when it is us who gets frozen on them.

Treba tumaciti kao pokusaj izmirivanja plusa i minusa, crnog i bijelog, siromasnog i bogatog. Kao smiraj izmedju dvije radosti u kojoj prva doziva drugu mostom precutanog. Neki odlaze toliko daleko da razmak izmedju dva osmjeha tumace suzama, krvlju ili prosto neiskazljivom tugom. Neki kao pokusaj ocuvanja oba osmjeha.
Duzina razmaka pri tom ne igra nikakvu ulogu, svejedno dali su u pitanju dva milimetra ili dvije svetlosne godine razmaknutost ostaje prostor u koji staje mogucnost priblizavanja i udaljavanja. Osmjehnutost u svakom slucaju predstavlja uslov za bilo kakvo primicanje.
Ili se zavrsava kobnim Pavlovljevim refleksom koji ne reflektuje ama bas nista. I sta je uopste osmjeh. Postoje razliciti kriterijumi po kome moze da se odredi i svaki od njih sasvim sigurno izmice bilo kakvoj odredljivosti.

Po hronoloskom kriterijumu osmjeh predstavlja zivo vrijeme u kome se odvija laganim izvijanjem usana na gore prvi dodir sa drugim. U odnosu na svrhu on nosi terete cilja kao vrece pune sati u kojima zeljno iscekujemo osmjeh sa druge strane mosta. Osmjeh je sredstvao, instrument prinude koji ponekad poslovno uvjezbavamo izjutra ispred ogledala nakon umivanja i pranja zuba jer je kada izadjemo vrijeme da napustimo sebe i posvetimo se drugom koji takodje tu ispred ogledala dezinfikuje sopstvenu osmjehnutost.
To je nesto kao business smile koji ako se dotjera do savrsenstva moze donijeti veliko bogatstvo. Jedan osmjeh moze da nosi sve, ama bas sve od zivog treptaja ljubavi do potpune ukocenosti. Postoji veliki broj stvari koji moze da se zaledi na nasim usnama. Problem nastaje kada se na sopstvenim usnama jednom ukocimo mi sami.

A Little School of Interpretation, …in x lessons,2007.
©Miroslava Odalovic

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Zdravo, Moje Ime Je Sara

Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja nisam,
koja nikada nisam.
Ovo su ruke za moje zagrljaje.
Osakacene prazninom.
Okrunjene u prstenju koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.
One pisu istoriju plasticne igracke
sahranjene u grobovima djetinjstva
koje nije doraslo do kolijevke.

Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja pokusava da bude.
Ovo su stopala za moje korake.
Ukocene putevima.
Vezana zveketavim nakitom
koji sumrakom skidam i u tmine bacam.

Ona hodaju nepostojecim ulicama
kojima gaze jos samo prividi staza.
Silaze u bunare
da u njima udave
proplivalu nadu za kraj.

Moje ime je Sara.
Ja sam ona koja bi htjela.
Ovo je vrat za vase ruke.
Dotaknite lagano.
Vezan je hiljadama lancica
koje sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam.

Ona jedu halapljivo,
krugove u koje sazimam snove
dozvoljavam da dira.
Neka je.

Zovem se Sara.
Ja sam ona koja ne pristaje.
Ovo je kosa za moje pletenice.
U njima trake od srebra
i bisere sjajne sumrakom skidam
i u tmine bacam. Neka ih.

Prekrsila sam sva pravila.
Razbila klise,
zacarane krugove,
pocijepala stranice
na kojima mi ispisuju sudbinu.

Ja sam Sara.
Ja sam ona koja nisam.
Ja sam ona koja uvijek
samo pokusavam da budem.
Ja sam ona koja hoce.
Ja sam ona koja ne pristaje.
Ja sam uvijek,
vjecnoscu stegnuta
u sipljive trenutke. Ja sam nada
umrla za kraj.
Ja sam ona koja hoce da razumije.
Ja sam ona koja ne razumije uvijek.
Ali JESAM.

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Quite Subsidiary / Sasvim Pritocno

diary pages i never wrote
due to some unknown individual intuition
a friend once explained to me
which i never really understood
they keep oozing in front of my eyes
a trailer from a movie long forgot
a midsummer's heat
pronounced at the tip of my tongue
that does not remember the language
but is ready to outriver the numbers
sliding down the covers
there's a painting perhaps
that i've never been up to
and i will never paint
a draft made of eyes and ears void
staring right at me from the broken sky
that knows each piece of its shatteredness
foretold by the mirror
i normally use to put lipstick only
or merely draft my eyes so as not to forget them
by the end of the day
and each time my fingers prolong into keyboards
there's a music played unheard humming oou of debris
the world would say it's time for itself to die
in the meaning of each word that's uttered about it
stubbornly defending its unutteredness
that always shakes me into an earthquake speech
and just like an earthquake i cannot stand still
there are too many cracks i made and need to fill

sascim pritocno
stranice dnevnika koje nikad nisam ispisala
zahvaljujuci jednoj individualnoj intuiciji
koju mi je prijatelj jednom objasnio
a nikad je nisam razumjela
cure mi pred ocima
trejler iz filma davno zaboravljenog
Jovanjdanja vrelina
izgovorena na vrhu jezika
koja je zaboravila jezik
ali je spremna da nadrijeci brojeve
što klize niz korice
postoji moždajedna slika
kojoj nikad nisam bila dorasla
koju nikad necu naslikati
slika napravljena od ociju i ušiju jaza
koja me posmatra pravo iz slomljenog neba
koje poznaje svaki komadic svoje polomljenosti
obrecene ogledalom
što ga obicno koristim samo da bih stavila ruž
ili skicirala svoje oci
da ih ne zaboravim do kraja dana
i svaki put kad mi se prsti izduže u klavijature
stvara se necujna muzika što pjevuši iz srce
svijet bi rekao da mu je vrijeme da umre
u znacenju svake rijeci koja je o njemu izrecena
uporno braneci svoju neizrecivost
koja me uvijek protrese u govor zemljotresa
i baš kao zemljotres ne mogu da stojim mirno
ima previše pukotina koje sam stvorila
a moram da ih popunim

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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
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That Had Them/Sto Imalo Ih Je

...that they had
the nightmares that had them
and the time they had that had them
with a little practical first aid kit
in case the world ends the way it's been
at least yearly anounced
sometime from March to December
and almost imperceptibly that they had
the goals the dreams that had them
as well as the time that had them
they had? like a never made of always
most of all they knew
that they were known by things they never knew
with a will of a throne it red carpet like walked them
from dire to straights only blood
they had in the dropp recorded they were
in a biometrical test that had them
tested on the meaning of the cells immemorial
they had blood? like a clock an hour hidden by their brother
for being an eternal possession of naming
the names they had that had them
covenantly uttered amidts the language made of light
the light they had a sight amidst the blindness
that had them for being had amidst the darkness
twilightly with the hands unembraced sand and a candle of fear
what they shiverred with shivered them summoned by the wind to sway
for the wind it was the last singing that sang them
amidst singing the last swaying that swayed them sleepless
the dream they had? that had them dreamt fate vowed stricken
never awake for awake a new different possession had them
the gap overstepped by waiting the pit of knowledge eye apples
off the knowlede of good and evil they watched
that watched them without blinking carefully
the result of the reason tainted by memory
with too much possession at the eye bottom ti watch
the same old passion with which poetry
builds the world and destroys the worlds a stone to stone
omen and glimmer

...koji imali su
što imali su da imalo ih je
noćne more što imale si ih
i vrijeme imali što imalo ih je
sa malim praktičnim setom za hitnu pomoć
u slučaju da svijeta okonča kako se bar jednom godišnje
negdje od marta do decembra uvijek najavljuje
i sasvim neznatno što imali su
ciljeve snove što imali su ih
a i vrijeme što imalo ih je
imali su? kao jednog nikad od uvijek
a ponajviše što znali su
da znalo ih je i što znali nisu
sa voljom od prijestola crveno tepihno hodalo ih je
od nemila do nedraga samo krv
što imali su je kapljom zabilježeni
biometrijskim testom što imao ih je
za provjeru značenja ćelija od vajkada
imali su krv? kao jednu od brata uru skriven sat
za bivanje vječnim posjedom imenovanja
imena su imali što imala su ih
zavjetno izgovorena sred jezika od svjetla
svjetlo imali su vidjelo sred sljepila
što imali ih je za imalo se sred mraka
primračno rukama odgrljen pijesak i žižak od straha
što drhtali su drhtalo ih je vjetrom prizvano da se njiše
jer vjetar to posljednje pjevanje bješe što pjevalo ih je
sred pjevanja posljednje njihanje što njihalo ih je bez sna
san imali su? što imao ih je za snivati snom sudbom zakletom
nebudjen jer budjen drugačiji novi za posjed imao ih je
čekanjem premošćen jaz jame znanja jabučice očne
s poznanja dobra i zla gledali su
što gledalo ih je netremice bez treptaja pomno
ishod razuma pomućenog sjećanjem
s previše posjeda u dnu oka za gledanje
jedne iste strasti kojom poezija
svijet gradi svjetove ruši od kamena kamenu
spomen i sjaj

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Hod

Hodi tmina čari tmurne
Daha presječenog
Tu je jutrom zora gurne
Od sna nerečenog

Hodi podne nebu sunca
Noći gaze svijetom
Sve pepelno sebe bunca
Sebe zove prvim letom

Hodi čovjek šume guste
Zgazile ga vode
Gdje ga tope suze puste
Tu ga tuge hode

Hodi ptica sinja mora
Hodi nebo oblak tmast
Hodi tmasto do izvora
Da utopi hoda vlast

©Miroslava Odalović

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beside the ashes of an hour/Kraj pepela od sata

You said -it is seven o'clock
And this has not been filled yet
And this hour still strikes the night-
-Here's a moment here's a moment-
A Sunbeam is whispering
-Come one build it a home
A mole builds a dam against the rivers and currents
A bird builds a best from salvation straws
Humans build the houses themselves the windows and the doors
Re-paint the cave
Beside the ashes of an hour

Reče sedam je sati
A urna ova još nije puna
A ura ova još kuca noć
Evo trena evo trena
Šapuće Sunčev zrak
Hajde gradi mu dom
Ko krtica brane spram rijeka i toka
Ko ptica gnijezda od slamčica spasa
Ko čovjek kuće sebe okna vrata
Pećinu nanovo oslikaj
Kraj pepela od sata

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You carry your heart-Ti srce nosiš

you carry your heart under your coat
for no one wants it there
you carry your soul deep beneath
like an old dusty music box
which has been opened once only

ti srce nosiš ispod kaputa
jer tamo ga neće niko
ti dušu nosiš duboko ispod
kao prašnjavu staru
samo jednom otvorenu muzičku kutiju

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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