Molten or metallic marvels
I really truly don't know why
some things under the sun and sky
attract and catch my fancy
Quite queerly they happen to be
hot melting smelting solids
that melt into exquisite liquids.
Take for instance heated liquid gold
molten glass or molten brass
and to watch magma 'neath the earth's fold
Ooh I love just about any melting mass.
With similar bizarre ecstasy and fascination
do I always watch onscreen molten lava
Gliding in serpentine turns, oblivious of my admiration
Ah, I just love all that golden molten mass
Sometimes I even have such an eccentric craving
to watch just any solid beauty melting smelting
that I satisfy this craving by simply imagining
the honey to be some liquid fire gold
in a crystal clear jar and liken it to
a metallic gold syrup in the furnace burning
As if it were stagnant mini-lava
right before me glowing!
As for other mesmeric things
that I find real eye-catching
are those which everybody else finds ravishing.
And they are in all shine
dazzling diamond dust
Magical celestial stardust
Glittery terrestrial gold dust
in mankind's metallic materialistic lust.!
But I, I am allergic to dust. ;)
poem by S.zaynub Kamoonpuri
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Related quotes
Molten Love
Lowering your thighs
...To mine
Set to take your ride
Lay me down on my bed
...rolling into the shadows
of the night
Entering into a neverworld
...without a care...we dare
There is no fright
With Passion...Carnal Lust
Tasting you, Like a thirst,
AWAKENING
The fires within you
Ride, Ride
Release The Lava
Of the passion feast,
Ride, Ride
My thickeness deep down to my soul,
Ride, Ride Till I die of desire,
Release the Molten Lava,
Molten
And Gold.
Peter LeBuhn
poem by Peter LeBuhn
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I Am After That Molten Gold..!
i am after that molten gold..!
&
o dear your honeyed words
can no longer hold me
in your sweet clutches-
i am after that molten gold
that floods the eastern gates in early morn-
miss i would otherwise this supreme wealth
and no time whatsoever to divert them
to my craving and starving intellect!
i am on a mad rush to the distant horizon
o my love, while the two sparkling nights
that swim in the great white seas of your eyes
lull me to gentle sleep amidst cosy dreams
this golden explosion shatters me from ignorance
and i am greedy and crazy over it!
must i leave, grieve not, o my dear queen!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Gold!
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold
Molten, graven, hammered and rolled,
Heavy to get and light to hold,
Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold,
Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled,
Spurned by young, but hung by old
To the verge of a church yard mold;
Price of many a crime untold.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Good or bad a thousand fold!
How widely it agencies vary,
To save - to ruin - to curse - to bless -
As even its minted coins express :
Now stamped with the image of Queen Bess,
And now of a bloody Mary.
poem by Thomas Hood
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When The Soul Knows, It Will Go Till The Depths Of Tommorow
As the world turns
Love makes a full circle and returns
Curving the passage of a day
Like the bending of a bow
Bringing the light of wisdom your way
Appearing as the hero you know
When chaos erupts into life
With the volcanic explosion of emotion
Molten lava of love reaches for the skies
At the height of pure passion
As the world strives for tomorrow
A shooting molten arrow
Innocent and hot
Is easily dealt a passing blow
By all those low below who prey her sort
From the hollowness of sorrow
The sky becomes aglow with a molten hue
When the soul knows
It will go till the depths of tomorrow
For all spirits who are true
Whose lives are torn
Who reach dusk before dawn.
poem by Kamini Arichandran
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Prologue from Preparatory Meditations Before My Approach to The Lord's Supper
Lord, can a crumb of dust the earth outweigh,
Outmatch all mountains, nay the crystal sky?
Imbosom in't designs that shall display
And trace into the boundless deity?
Yea, hand a pen whose moisture doth gild o'er
Eternal glory with a glorious glore.
If it is pen had of an angel's quill,
And sharpened on a precious stone ground tight,
And dipped in liquid gold, and moved by skill
In crystal leaves should golden letters write,
It would but blot and blur, yea, jag and jar,
Unless Thou mak'st the pen and scribener.
I am this crumb of dust which is designed
To make my pen unto Thy praise alone,
And my dull fancy I would gladly grind
Unto an edge on Zion's precious stone;
And write in liquid gold upon Thy name
My letters till Thy glory forth doth flame.
Let not th' attempts break down my dust I pray,
Nor laugh Thou them to scorn, but pardon give.
Inspire this crumb of dust till it display
Thy glory through't: and then Thy dust shall live.
Its failings then Thou'lt overlook, I trust,
They being slips slipped from Thy crumb of dust.
Thy crumb of dust breathes two words from its breast,
That Thou wilt guide its pen to write aright
To prove Thou art and that Thou art the best
And shew Thy prosperties to shine most bright.
And then Thy works will shine as flowers on stems
Or as in jewelary shops do gems.
poem by Edward Taylor
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The hardened mass of liquid stones had much stronger qualities than those which had simply torn. The skin remained a recognisable part of the molten stone.
quote by Andy Goldsworthy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet that Prayed
A precious pilgrim poet prayed
Because no words would come,
He asked God if he'd disobeyed,
Because his heart felt numb...
A vision formed within his mind,
Like none he'd seen before,
With white-hot furnace gold refined
God stretched from shore to shore...
Like molten lava from the Lord,
The streets were paved with gold...
As if God's grace had been outpoured
For all men to behold...
As if the old paths must be changed,
Transformed by Jesus Christ
And once the streets were rearranged,
God's might was realised...
Thus those that fled could now return,
When God made all things new,
With wonders they could share and learn,
To know what they must do...
The poet asked the Lord's advice,
Were these streets here on Earth,
Or were they streets in Paradise
And of some future worth?
The Lord replied, the streets were those
Where Gospel truths are taught...
Where love can blossom like the rose,
Through peace that Christ has bought...
His Blood atones for souls set free,
No matter, young or old...
It's by our faith in Calvary,
Saints' streets are paved with gold...
(July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Bird and the Hour
The sun looks over a little hill
And floods the valley with gold-
A torrent of gold;
And the hither field is green and still;
Beyond it a cloud outrolled,
Is glowing molten and bright;
And soon the hill, and the valley and all,
With a quiet fall,
Shall be gathered into the night.
And yet a moment more,
Out of the silent wood,
As if from the closing door
Of another world and another lovelier mood,
Hear'st thou the hermit pour-
So sweet! so magical!-
His golden music, ghostly beautiful.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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All I Ever Need Is You
Sometimes when i'm down and all alone
just like a child without a home.
The love you give me keeps me hanging on
oh honey, all i ever need is you.
Your my first love your my last.
Your my future your my past.
And loving you is all i ask
oh honey, all i ever need is you.
Winters come and they go,
and we watch the melting snow.
sure as summer follows spring
all the things you do.
give me a reaon to build my world around you.
Some men follow rainbows i am told.
some men search for silver some for gold.
i have found my treasure in your soul honey
all i ever need is you.
without love i'd never find a way,
through ups and downs of every single day.
i won't sleep at night until you say my honey,
all i ever need is you.
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trailblazer
Prepare the bed
of the liquid art,
where the ice will kiss the fire.
Can you climb on the flames
to know the truth
of a molten lava?
Who killed the desire
to enter the frozen god
of revenge?
Alas, I will go back
to the wounded pride.
I will not sell my home of curse.
The innocent breast
of the moon,
has kindled the blaze again.
poem by Satish Verma
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August 1914
What in our lives is burnt
In the fire of this?
The heart’s dear granary?
The much we shall miss?
Three lives hath one life –
Iron, honey, gold.
The gold, the honey gone –
Left is the hard and cold.
Iron are our lives
Molten right through our youth.
A burnt space through ripe fields
A fair mouth’s broken tooth
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Dreams Nascent
My world is a painted fresco, where coloured shapes
Of old, ineffectual lives linger blurred and warm;
An endless tapestry the past has women drapes
The halls of my life, compelling my soul to conform.
The surface of dreams is broken,
The picture of the past is shaken and scattered.
Fluent, active figures of men pass along the railway, and I am woken
From the dreams that the distance flattered.
Along the railway, active figures of men.
They have a secret that stirs in their limbs as they move
Out of the distance, nearer, commanding my dreamy world.
Here in the subtle, rounded flesh
Beats the active ecstasy.
In the sudden lifting my eyes, it is clearer,
The fascination of the quick, restless Creator moving through the mesh
Of men, vibrating in ecstasy through the rounded flesh.
Oh my boys, bending over your books,
In you is trembling and fusing
The creation of a new-patterned dream, dream of a generation:
And I watch to see the Creator, the power that patterns the dream.
The old dreams are beautiful, beloved, soft-toned, and sure,
But the dream-stuff is molten and moving mysteriously,
Alluring my eyes; for I, am I not also dream-stuff,
Am I not quickening, diffusing myself in the pattern, shaping and shapen?
Here in my class is the answer for the great yearning:
Eyes where I can watch the swim of old dreams reflected on the molten metal of dreams,
Watch the stir which is rhythmic and moves them all as a heart-beat moves the blood,
Here in the swelling flesh the great activity working,
Visible there in the change of eyes and the mobile features.
Oh the great mystery and fascination of the unseen Shaper,
The power of the melting, fusing Force—heat, light, all in one,
Everything great and mysterious in one, swelling and shaping the dream in the flesh,
As it swells and shapes a bud into blossom.
Oh the terrible ecstasy of the consciousness that I am life!
Oh the miracle of the whole, the widespread, labouring concentration
Swelling mankind like one bud to bring forth the fruit of a dream,
Oh the terror of lifting the innermost I out of the sweep of the impulse of life,
And watching the great Thing labouring through the whole round flesh of the world;
And striving to catch a glimpse of the shape of the coming dream,
As it quickens within the labouring, white-hot metal,
Catch the scent and the colour of the coming dream,
Then to fall back exhausted into the unconscious, molten life!
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Gold Watch And Chain
(A.P. Carter)
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
Darling, how could I stay here without you
I have nothing to ease my poor heart
This old world would seem sad, love, without you
Tell me now that we never will part
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
Take back all the gifts you have given
A diamond ring and a lock of your hair
And a card with your picture upon it
It's a face that is false but is fair
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
Oh, the white rose that blooms in the garden
It grows with the love of my heart
It broke through on the day that I met you
It will die on the day that we part
Oh I'll pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And I'll pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that you'll love me again
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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2: 25 P.M. Roxas
there are things that do not jibe
round peg to a square hole for instance
birds that dive and fly in the belly of the sea
or fish that swim in the molten lava of the earth
us, for instance, is another thing
we have ceased to be human tired of the power of words in our lips
we should have kissed as often as we signify a love that does not change
but, we are some of these things that do not jibe at last
our dances have become awkward
people are watching and they just couldn't say it honestly that we have to stop
us, scarecrows
not scared but powerless over the vultures that feed on our flesh
over those birds that steal the grains of our youth
over time that is too cruel
us, feeding upon us,
about to puke.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Potter's Wheel
I've put love on a potter's wheel
Applied it with a sprinkling of words
Shaped terracotta like a goldsmith
Held their bars; their molten innards.
Their bodies' ingots shimmering…
A picture framed around gold-leaf.
Till, like the climbs of a silver moon
They're etched in my own relief.
Sculptured like a melting snow
I've felt their pearls slip back on the necklace
And like a tree of blossom
All is swept into an ocean - verbless
Like a vessel smashed into a million pieces.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Persistence Of My Memory
i am looking forward to see
molten clocks on my table
elongated days like rubber
heated with the fire from your
eyes
dripping silver spoons from
my porcelain cup
of coffee
i expect the flow of lava
in my bed
you say you are hot and
about to erupt
into a multiple orgasm
on my linen
well said, but not well done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Big Bang theory
I went to watch a movie
Neither funny or sad
It’s about the big bang theory
That shows what they had
My thought drowned with curiosity
And was lost inside the screen
Guaranteed inside the movie
Amazement was already seen
Bright sparkly explosions
And molten liquids were evoked
Where a fantastic place called earth
Was born with dust and smoke
Heat increased around volcanoes
With vibrating voices behind trees
Footsteps sound like earthquakes
Dinosaurs were coming after me
Then civilization arrived
With cavemen and fires from wood
Caves where they resided
And hunting is how they got food
Present has derived from unbelievable things
That started from an explosion
It’s wonderful to see such gifted things
For our each and every intension
poem by Hirushi Jayasena
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Gold Watch & Chain
(a.p. carter)
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
Darling, how could I stay here without you
I have nothing to ease my poor heart
This old world would seem sad, love, without you
Tell me now that we never will part
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
Take back all the gifts you have given
A diamond ring and a lock of your hair
And a card with your picture upon it
Its a face that is false but is fair
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
Oh, the white rose that blooms in the garden
It grows with the love of my heart
It broke through on the day that I met you
It will die on the day that we part
Oh Ill pawn you my gold watch and chain, love
And Ill pawn you my gold wedding ring
I will pawn you this heart in my bosom
Only say that youll love me again
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lava Lamp
In the half light of the evening
I could almost see you glow, I can tell by the way you're moving,
Time may be right to let you know,
you've got a many coloured halo, the body of venus
a babe rainbow and if I come on any closer, I might fall into your silhouette
but the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, lava lava lava lamp
indigo, violet and blue, can we meet where the edge is blur cause I am comin' atcha, like a bug eye heading for the burn
the truth is I can't stay away, no I wanna let you light my volcano
and maybe it's just my imagination, but you never know
because the shape of things to come is constantly changing
so let it, so let it, so let it flow
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
so let it, so let it, so let it ...
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
lava lava lava lamp, I'd love to turn you on
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Children
Gold has an advantage over us. Gold mattered over all other matter. Glowing is the metal of desire, the metallic abode is upon us like a golden palace twitching like silver, but gold. Golden palaces harvest children of gore to expertly slice and shear the halls and walls so that the germs must disappear from their scalps. Are they skulls, or just plain children? Is there an uprising? Or are there too many children in the golden palace? Gold shall teach the mighty reward to the ending of some crazy children.
poem by Naveed Akram
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