Carbonized Steaks
More significant than the rise and fall,
More important than the historic events,
More woeful than pathetic deaths,
May we find occurring around us,
Unheeded, though trivial to the minds,
Yet gruesome to the unsealed eyeing hearts.
Once aimless loitering through the forest,
Brought me to the blazing smoky spot,
Where wild flames were leaping up,
Encircling patches of the withering grass,
And barky beds of dry palm needles.
My eyes captured a sight too horrible,
A tragedy performed away from the stage,
Beyond the sight of human busy eyes,
With no audience to applaud the struggle,
Or grieve at unjust agonizing infliction.
A black partridge was fighting in panic,
Against the callous besieging yellow flames,
Each time belittling from all around,
The bird jumped to ward off the calamity,
As hapless men wheedle misfortune,
But in vain retreat with the gait reverse,
And when no one rescues, fight alone.
Why it flies not, I wondered much,
To save the life, with the wings intact,
Relentless flames encroached instantly,
And burnt bones, flesh and feathers.
Curiosity took me then to the dismal spot.
Ah! What a doleful thing I had to behold,
The belly seething with the burnt blood,
The motherhood all black, sooty smoked,
Lay singed among the seven babe birds,
Like steaks too carbonized to be eaten.
When the victimizing gluttonous flames,
Rushed far away, I heard the weeping voices,
Of the sappy sticks of burning youngs,
Protesting against being blazed too soon.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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Soul of Flames
I sit and watch as the flames lick at the bricks
The red, and orange tipped beauty
The tongues of fury lick
As it burns through the wood and metal preforming its duty
The red hipmotizing, the orange bright
I watch the light fill the black
What a wonderful sight
Bringing the memories back
The house falls to pieces as I sit and stare
My tears falling to the ground
My eyes filled whith the flames glare
My tears fall to the ground without a sound
I sit and watch as the flames lick at the bricks
The red, and orange tipped with beauty
The flames swirl and mix
As I sit in silence intranced with love and lust
The flames so wonderful so bright
The night dark as coal
My eyes filled with stars, with light
The flames licking at my soul
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Flames
“I see flames coming out of a Ratel IFV
and how smoke vapours rises from it,
while it’s shot out
where it’s captured by a minefield.
Bleeding and burning comrades die
and their names and faces,
are burnt into my mind.
Even if I rise my eyes
to the heaven
I still cannot understand
till this day,
why some had to pay
such an expensive price
and precisely what their lives bought.
It’s something to die in honour,
but another thing to life
in a country
poem by Gert Strydom
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Burning! !
Some thing is burning,
which is leading me to a
world full of hatred and disgust.
why i have suddenly started
obeying my selfish mind
why it left my loving
heart some were deep beneath
the ferocious flames of my
'anger'
Why suddenly my broken heart
starts to fight for its anger
what's the thing which is
burning in me so badly
and at the end,
when the flames of my anger
burnt my life into ashes
then my soul reminds me
that it was my own
heart which was burning so
'badly'
poem by Nishtha Dutta
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Our Hero
Onward to her destination,
O'er the stream that Hannah sped,
When a cry of consternation
Smote and chilled our hearts with dread.
Wildly leaping, madly sweeping,
All relentless in their sway,
Like a band of cruel demons
Flames were closing 'round our way
Oh! the horror of those moments;
Flames above and waves below-
Oh! the agony of ages
Crowded in one hour of woe.
Fainter grew our hearts with anguish
In that hour with peril rife,
When we saw the pilot flying,
Terror-stricken, for his life.
Then a man up rose before us-
We had once despised his race-
But we saw a lofty purpose
Lighting up his darkened face.
While the flames were madly roaring,
With a courage grand and high,
Forth he rushed unto our rescue,
Strong to suffer, brave to die.
Helplessly the boat was drifting,
Death was staring in each face,
When he grasped the fallen rudder,
Took the pilot's vacant place.
Could he save us? Would he save us?
All his hope of life give o'er?
Could he hold that fated vessel
'Till she reached the nearer shore?
All our hopes and fears were centered
'Round his strong, unfaltering hand;
If he failed us we must perish,
Perish just in sight of land.
Breathlessly we watched and waited
While the flames were raging fast;
When our anguish changed to rapture-
We were saved, yes, saved at last.
Never strains of sweetest music
Brought to us more welcome sound.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Seeking
In many a shape and fleeting apparition,
Sublime in age or with clear morning eyes,
Ever I seek thee, tantalising Vision,
Which beckoning flies.
Ever I seek Thee, O evasive Presence,
Which on the far horizon's utmost verge,
Like some wild star in luminous evanescence,
Shoots o'er the surge.
Ever I seek Thy features ever flying,
Which ne'er beheld I never can forget:
Lightning which flames through love, and mimics dying
In souls that set.
Ever I seek Thee through all clouds of error;
As when the moon behind earth's shadow slips,
She wears a momentary mask of terror
In brief eclipse.
Ever I seek Thee, passionately yearning;
Like altar-fire on some forgotten fane,
My life flames up irrevocably burning,
And burnt in vain.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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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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The Great Chicago Fire
The great Chicago Fire, friends,
Will never be forgot;
In the history of Chicago
It will remain a darken spot.
It was a dreadful horrid sight
To see that City in flames;
But no human aid could save it,
For all skill was tried in vain.
In the year of 1871,
In October on the 8th,
The people in that City, then
Was full of life, and great.
Less than four days it lay in ruins,
That garden City, so great
Lay smouldering in ashes,
In a sad and pitiful state.
It was a sad, sad scene indeed,
To see the fire arise,
And hear the crackling of the flames
As it almost reached the skies,
And sadder still, to hear the moans,
Of people in the flames
Cry for help, and none could get,
Ah, die where they remained.
To see the people run for life;
Up and down the blazing streets,
To find then, their escape cut off
By the fiery flaming sheets,
And others hunting for some friend
That perhaps they never found,
Such weeping, wailing, never was known,
For a thousands miles around.
Some people were very wealthy
On the morning of the 10th.
But at the close of the evening,
Was poor, but felt content,
Glad to escape from harm with life
With friends they loved so well,
Some will try to gain more wisdom,
By the sad sight they beheld.
Five thousand people were homeless,
Sad wanderers in the streets,
With no shelter to cover them,
And no food had they to eat.
They wandered down by the lake side,
Lay down on the cold damp ground,
So tired and weary and homeless,
So the rich, the poor, was found.
Mothers with dear little infants,
Some clinging to the breast.
People of every description
All laid down there to rest,
With the sky as their covering,
Ah, pillows they had none.
Sad, oh sad, it must have been,
For those poor homeless ones.
Neighboring Cities sent comfort,
To the poor lone helpless ones,
And God will not forget them
In all the years to come.
Now the City of Chicago
Is built up anew once more,
And may it never be visited
With such a great fire no more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Tracing Me Out...
I find a new fire burning
With colourful flames hitherto unseen.
I find that it is burning
With fumes souring to skies hitherto unreached.
And my joy knows no bounds.
I find the thing burning
My mind is it!
I find the crowd cheering
My people are it!
And a gloom embraces me.
The flames flicker,
The smoke withers,
And the souls creep back into the holes,
I feel a stench of my mind
And a heap of ash remains.
I won`t see new things burning,
Nor will I search for flames thereof.
With what little is left over in me since
I have to trace a form of mine
To speak certain brutal truths to you.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Burning Flesh
I burnt myself again.
The pong of the rotten smell.
The flames seep my skin.
Burning like a fire.
With the amber flame.
Strange as it sounds
I dont feel the pain.
A twisted sense of realese.
The pain I do not feel
As my flesh bursts into flames.
Skin peeling like a snake.
It dosent bother me.
I need and deserve the pain.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Another Night in Ruins
1
In the evening
haze darkening on the hills,
purple of the eternal,
a last bird crosses over,
‘flop flop,' adoring
only the instant.
2
Nine years ago,
in a plane that rumbled all night
above the Atlantic,
I could see, lit up
by lightning bolts jumping out of it,
a thunderhead formed like the face
of my brother, looking down
on blue,
lightning-flashed moments of the Atlantic.
3
He used to tell me,
"What good is the day?
On some hill of despair
the bonfire
you kindle can light the great sky—
though it's true, of course, to make it burn
you have to throw yourself in ..."
4
Wind tears itself hollow
in the eaves of these ruins, ghost-flute
of snowdrifts
that build out there in the dark:
upside-down ravines
into which night sweeps
our cast wings, our ink-spattered feathers.
5
I listen.
I hear nothing. Only
the cow, the cow of such
hollowness, mooing
down the bones.
6
Is that a
rooster? He
thrashes in the snow
for a grain. Finds
it. Rips
it into
flames. Flaps. Crows.
Flames
bursting out of his brow.
7
How many nights must it take
one such as me to learn
that we aren't, after all, made
from that bird that flies out of its ashes,
that for us
as we go up in flames, our one work
is
to open ourselves, to be
the flames?
poem by Galway Kinnell
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Down In Flames
Christians, we're all afraid of fire.
We prefer to suck on pacifiers.
Baby pacifists, we're throwing fits.
We don't shake hands, we shake our fists.
We're cannibals.
We watch our brothers fall.
We eat our own, the bones and all.
Finally fell asleep on the plane.
To wake up and see we're going down in flames.
We're going down, down, down in flames.
We're gonna drown, drown, drown insane.
We see the problem and the risk,
but nothing's solved.
We just say, "Tisk, tisk, tisk." and "Shame, shame, shame."
Finally fell asleep on the plane.
To wake to see we're going down in flames, down in flames.
Christians, we mourn, the thorn is stuck in the side of the body.
Watch it self-destruct.
The enemy is much ignored when we fight this Christian civil war.
We're cannibals, We watch our brothers fall.
We eat our own, the bones and all.
Finally fell asleep on the plane.
To wake to see we're going down in flames.
Na na na na na, na na na na.
Na na na na na, na na na na.
Na na na na na, na na na na.
Na na na na na, na na na na.
Na na na na na, na na na na.
Na na na na na, na na na na.
Na na na na na, na na na na.
Banana na na, na na na.
Let me pause to clarify
('cause I'm sure you're asking, "Why?").
I stand before you,
and proudly claim to belong to what this song complains.
I'm part of the problem I confess,
but I got to get this off my chest.
Let's extinguish the anguish for which we're to blame,
and save the world from going down in flames.
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Schizophrenia
And so I closed my eyes, my soul shielded
They'll never find me through the smoke.
by the darkness. Protected by the warmth
Like a blanket. I should rest here.
of the wildfire that lay before me.
The flames smell of Blood and Hope
The ashes blanketed the ground:
and the ashes float with my footsteps
a ground made from layers of dust
The dust will swallow me.
left by countless fires of the past.
I must find Home.
By flames only quenched by suffocation.
Suffocation! My suffocation!
And I felt the heat of those flames, too.
But Home is hiding from me.
They licked at my fingers, but I ran.
My fingers were frozen. Red and frostbitten
And no matter how fast I ran, they ran
Home will be gone soon. I must find it.
faster. A Labyrinth of flames.
I am lost,
Where my thread was burned and the Minotaur
never to be found:
would never be found, just as I was.
Home destroyed by the flames with me.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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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 Old Flame Is Burnin Another Honky Tonk Down
Just a one pump fil-in station
Lord and one old general store
I found her in that wide spot in the road
And the brightest lights shed ever seen
Were the headlights on my pickup
Till she saw the lights behind those swinging doors
And everywhere she goes
She leaves the jukebox smoking
Everywhere shes been
Theres ashes on the ground
I see the glow in the sky
Through the teardrops in my eyes
My old flames out burning
Another honky tonk down
So country, young and pretty
Shes never been no where before
And I lost her behind those swinging doors
Now its just me and my old pickup
Making every joint in town
Cuz tonight shes out somewhere to burn one down
And everywhere she goes
She leaves the jukebox smoking
Everywhere shes been
Theres ashes on the ground
I see the glow in the sky
Through the teardrops in my eyes
My old flames out burning
Another honky tonk down
My old flames out burning
Another honky tonk down
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Disastrous Fire at Scarborough
'Twas in the year of 1898, and on the 8th of June,
A mother and six children met with a cruel doom
In one of the most fearful fires for some years past
And as the spectators gazed upon them they stood aghast
The fire broke out in a hairdresser's, in the town of Scarborough,
And as the fire spread it filled the people's hearts with sorrow;
But the police and the fire brigade were soon on the ground,
Then the hose and reel were quickly sent round.
Oh! it was horrible to see the flames leaping up all around,
While amongst the spectators the silence was profound,
As they saw a men climb out to the parapet high,
Resolved to save his life, or in the attempt to die!
And he gave one half frantic leap, with his heart full of woe,
And came down upon the roof of a public-house 20 feet below;
But, alas! he slipped and fell through the skylight,
And received cuts and bruises: oh, what a horrible sight!
He was the tenant of the premises, Mr Brookes,
And for his wife and family he enquires, with anxious looks,
But no one could tell him, it did appear,
And when told so adown his cheeks flowed many a tear.
He had been sleeping by himself on the second floor,
When suddenly alarmed, he thought he'd make sure,
And try to escape from the burning pile with his life,
And try and save his family and his wife.
The fire brigade played on the first door with greet speed,
But the flames had very inflammable fuel upon which to feed,
So that the fire spread with awful rapidity,
And in twenty minutes the building was doomed to the fourth storey.
The firemen wrought with might and main,
But still the fire did on them gain,
That it was two hours before they could reach the second floor,
The heat being so intense they could scarcely it endure.
And inside all the time a woman and six children were there,
And when the firemen saw them, in amazement they did stare;
The sight that met their eyes made them for to start
Oh, Heaven! the sight was sufficient to rend the strongest heart.
For there was Mrs Brookes stretched dead on the floor,
Who had fallen in trying her escape for to procure.
She was lying with one arm over her ten months old child,
And her cries for help, no doubt, were frantic and wild;
And part of her arm was burned off as it lay above
The child she was trying to shield, which shows a mother's love.
For the baby's flesh was partly uninjured by the flames,
Which shows that the loving mother had endured great pains;
It, however, met its death by suffocation,
And as the spectators gazed thereon, it filled their hearts with consternation.
The firemen acted heroicallv, without any dread,
And when they entered the back premises they found the six children dead;
But Mr Brookes, 'tis said, is still alive,
And I hope for many years he will survive.
Oh, Heaven! it is cruel to perish by fire,
Therefore let us be watchful before to our beds we retire,
And see that everything is in safe order before we fall asleep,
And pray that God o'er us in the night watch will keep.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Beyond A Tracing I Have Never Been...
Somewhere there around me
I find a new fire burning
With colourful flames hitherto unseen.
I find that it is burning with fumes
Souring to the altitudes hitherto unreached.
In fact my joy knows no bounds.
I feel the thing burning now
Oh, my mind is it!
I find the eccentric crowd cheering
My people are it!
And a gloom begins to embrace me.
The flames flicker and go slende,
The smoke withers and dies,
And the souls unseen creep back into the holes,
I feel a stench of my mind
And a heap of ash remains.
I can`t see new things burning,
Nor can I search for flames thereof.
With what little is left over in me since
I have to somehow trace a form of mine
To speak certain brutal truths to you.
Beyond a tracing I have never been...
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Two Ideas, Two Flames, Two Mouths
two mouths that kiss
two lips that burn
inside our minds
two flames
from our hearts
burning together
fusing in fire
two ideas shared by us
sprouting together
like two flowers blooming
this is our love
the fusion of two ideas
of two flames
of two mouths
now one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The Black Flames
In a dream, a dream, a dream
I walked through a raging fire
With flames the blackest of black
I felt no cold nor heat by their touch
But the eyes, the eyes watching me
I felt a feeling swell and die
Saw the world in full horror
In decay and demise and death
The world is a dying place
Filled with hate, envy and greed
Upon which the blackest flames
Dance, rage and scream
With a horror they scream aloud
Like a banshee calling
To death, while death is watching
I walked through a wall of fire
Where the flames were black
Darker than the night or shadows
All the while I felt nothing
Nothing but the eyes upon me
poem by Matthew Holloway
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