Words on Fire V2E5

Words On Fire
…Imagineers of Pyrotechnic Poetics
Volume 2 Edition 5
( for June 21 – August 1, 2015)

We Didn't Start the Fire


  • Andre Thomas
  • Katya Mills
  • Tracy Olmstead
  • Weak Perfection
  • Daseph Edwards
  • Kiku Koibito
  • Michael Veloff
  • Moon Sonata
  • SD Wolf
  • Tim Clayton
  • Frank Ramon
  • Fergus Martin
  • Luke Normsy
  • Portia Burton
  • K. Leigh Thoma
  • Simon Lenthen
  • Allene Angelica
  • Debbie Green Razey
  • Michael French
  • Mickey Draca
  • Evelyn Elizabeth
  • José Coelho
  • Robert Horton
  • Mark Read
  • Laurie Corzett
  • & featured moderator, Uma Venkatraman


Love by Andre Thomas

Is it the movement of her hips or how her breast seem to swell, see these the moment’s that I miss, I’ll try my best with details, deep in my soul you hold a place, its wonderment and surprise, but now I wonder where you went, don’t see that face when I rise, they say when life get you to stressing give it all up above, and when you finally pass the lesson, wish you blessings and love.


‘ WI-FI ‘ by KatYa Mills

if i could hold your hand through this lens
through this screen

through these wires snake around
and out

the head of medusa
if i could hold you
tenderly like thoughts of you i have
each time we come across

these wireless fidelity
moments we share
before the infidels encroach our unitive

time and work and money
reaching into us
pull us apart

naturally. i

watch the night get heavier
drip into the grass

watch the morning dew
evaporate heading for the sun

watch the sun
at the end of an arc

watch the sky turn red
somewhere the earth is burning
somewhere protected. by ice

being with you
is always very


A Stone Knows More (R & R to The Night, The Porch by Mark Strand) by Tracy Olmstead

A stone knows more, so much more than man
Dawn’s crisp breeze passes over stones gathered as the stream swirls around
On to carry the mornings steam tails rising off as the darkness passes unto
Mist lifts slowly to meet the sun’s embrace, the world seemingly born anew

A stone knows these memories
Hear the peaceful daybreak even the Owl knows his place
Of tranquility with peace, where the earth in her glory hums an awakening
A seasonal song concerned of man’s toll, her heartache reaches to touch his soul

Man’s ride so short but a moment to her.
Songs repeated she sings in variations needed, if only man would listen; No just watch her bleed
Whispers in the pines as rain softly falls, her parasitic inhabitant’s damage compounds
Their poison effective in such a short time, water, land and air toxic now

Unheeded warnings of her lament; at what cost, only her existence
Memories now but a bygone era. Was she alive?
Her time now ended in a cosmic instance
Lifeless rock, a stone knows more, as in the beginning, memories of before.

SEAGULLS by Moon Sonata
I want to be
An incandescent morning of rebirth
Flooding your clenching memories
With the lavishing gift of today
Rising above torturous doubts
That cling to thy brain with no reason.Not long ago
Sweet wine was flowing through our veins
(Or just the dream of it)
We were ready to embark on a journey
To the kingdom of the everlasting ice
Where velvet seals would serve us snow for breakfast
And sledges would run wild before our eyes.I want to be
The eagerly awaited moment of return
Caressing the remains of your crumbled heart
With the tip of my tongue
Blooming from the ruined castle of a love
So fervent it won’t let me forget.Not long ago
We were each others ivory tower
(Or just the perception of it)
We were sprawling on gargantuan pillows
In front of a glowing bonfire
Watching potatoes bake themselves in tin foil
And our bodies cloaked in desire.I want to be
The luxury of an evening planned a night before
Unhurriedly invading your immaculate solitude
With scented candles flickering till dawn

Don’t bury your head in the sand and don’t just be
It’s time to love like seagulls love the sea.


Wasted Gold  by Weak Perfection

As I was handed a gift,
I then bashfully smiled
“Oh, sir, I can’t take this”
And handed back the file

It was offered once again
And I finally took hold
“Oh, sir, but I won’t use this –
It’ll just be wasted gold.”

And I never took a peek
And I never looked inside
“Oh, sir, I’m not that person”
My humble side replied

I wasn’t good enough to open it
And I didn’t want to be
“Oh, sir, but I’m content”
He still spoke kind to me

And a year went flying by
And a few more after that
“Oh, sir, your offer’s kind”
The sealed envelope still sat

The sun smiled day by day
The moon still waved at night
“Oh, sir, I know it’s given to me –
I still keep it in my sight”

And then one day I realized
Humility had lost
“Oh, sir, how generous you are –
How much this must’ve cost”

My pride had taken a gift
Then ignored the cleansing array
“Oh, sir, I’m sorry for thinking
I was humble to turn you away”

And I still don’t understand
Exactly how pride deceived me
“Oh, sir, my ego had worn a cloak
And called him humility.”



“Anthem of the Nomad” by Daseph Edwards

I am a nomad
and my flag is painted with the sunlight
that flies over all lands.
My country is the Road
and those who have trekked it
who have wandered day and night,
who have no home but flesh and blood,
who have slumbered beneath both shacks and stars,
they are my people.
And my anthem is
the song that was birthed by the wind
that flows over plain and mountain
and dusts the feet of the wayfarer.
I am a nomad.


Now Safe by Kiku Koibito

what then
shall i do
in new skin
tender, tender
unable to bear
bright sun pretender
hidden wet leaf
clinging undersides
darkling underneath

Unfurl my sails


“whithered” by Michael Veloff

wither whither where i crept
unto untold memories swept
summer somewhere found its depth
heaven happened ‘chance to slip

Reconstruction by Moon Sonata
It took one single second
to fall in love with you
one microscopic moment
for the cherry petals
to scatter in the winds
I am the Phoenix bird
to your liking
a piece of whimsical clay
kneaded with care between
your knowledgeable palms
empowered by your spirit
submissive to your lust
unrecognizable to my self
to any historical recollection
to any potential discovery
entwined in you, in You, in YOU
I seize the day, the hour
and the now.
Untitled by SD Wolf
She was born
wearing red silk
drizzled over her frame
skin spilt like fresh milk
She is her own name
Do you know from where she came
Circle me, circling like time
with emerald eyes and skin of wine
can you stake a claim
Dressed in my wedding, ready
Longing to birthmark, Rorshach
the first night bedding
My hot attire
Sets every word you say on fire
Dancing, vacuum whoosh of a flare
red silk and burning hair
stained in the colour of sinning
I have loved you before the beginning
In the womb, waiting to be born
before darkness of night, or bleeding eye of the morn
endless turns, of the earth
my name, have you heard
I have waited for so long
to hear the song
Surrender, give in
whisperings from the hummingbird wingIn crimson red
clothed, naked
Speak it, say it
Slay it, fear it
From your dry throat bed untimely tear it
SPLEEN by Moon Sonata
My fragile silences sprouting into smiles
started resembling black tulips,
oh, you poor, deserted flowers,
will you ever be offered
to a girl with grey-violet eyes?
under my ancient, patched umbrella
I’m strolling the flower market
once filled with alluring flavours
and picturesque beauty
worthy of a painter’s easel
and as I stop to watch the empty stalls,
the floors covered in weathered blades,
the monumental waste,
that used to be my secret home,
the putrid ugliness is rearing its horrid head
to step on memories so carefully made,
to chop piece by piece the chastity
I kept hidden in a flower bucket
(for the rainy days)
and a song of death is gathering inside me
like a Sisyphean burden to this body
haunted by desires and struggles.

Energy Aware by Tim Clayton

We live in a small town
Pretty self-sufficient
Time doesn’t stand still here
We don’t know everyone in town,
But, a lot
The town’s expanding
I hardly recognize parts of it
From a few years ago.
There’s an energy here.


The Marrow Of My Mind by Frank Ramon

as usual
your influences
are enriching
then absorbed
reformed and digested
the soft parts go first
but every thing
dissolves eventually
atoms rearranged
in elemental elegance
to begin again
the eternal dance of Shiva
to quell the disquiet
with beautiful sound
that is the musicians’ medication
i do not seek to chill anything
but to bathe
in the heat
of creation
until the dissolution of disquiet,
sucks the marrow of my mind
into stardust again


Old Friends by Fergus Martin

Oh, hello
Come on in
How you doing?
Nice to see you again
How long’s it been?
Sit yourself down
Tea, coffee?
Kettle’s just boiled
What you doing these days?
Been such a long time
Weird meeting you like that
Glad you came round
What you been up to?
Didn’t realise you had kids
Didn’t even know you were married
Christ it’s been a while then.
Still working?
Much the same here.
Going so soon?
Got things to do myself
Must do it again some time
Don’t leave it so long
You’ve got my number
Give me a bell
See you soon
Drive safe

Why did I even…………..


 A Man by Luke Normsy

I forgot to tell you, she
said, that those dishes
were dirty

No, I replied, you told me

Oh, good! she said, I was
lying awake thinking about it
last night.

I think about Star Trek
when I’m falling asleep,
I said.

That’s because you’re
a man, she replied.


We Lay by David Kernohan

We lay waiting
For our breath
To wash us back
Into this time
Time we had
The burden
Of our isolation
Eased in our embrace

As we
Lay waiting
I wanted
To ask you
What you were
But that was
An intimacy
Too far

I’ll strip myself
Naked, balancing
Your weight
Blanketing me
But the lightness
Of your thoughts
I cannot bear
It is an intimacy
Too far

Granny by Portia Burton
You were such a place in my life
Where I always got
Fresh fragrant flowers.
You were comforting
Like a deep lake
Whose blue serenity
Never does fade.
You were rather a pious place
Like a cool comforting cathedral,
A soothing and sheltering sanctum,
Where all my worries vanished,
And my heart got filled with
Sweet scent of love’s incense.

Stitched by K. Leigh Thoma

My heart is stitched upon my sleeve
The thread is growing bare
It doesn’t even match my coat
It’s frayed beyond repair

Some are born with an armored sleeve
Immune to wear and tear
Others are born to pick your strings
Clipping you without care

Some are born with a plastic sleeve
Looking true but not quite real
They pull you in and steal your breath
Consuming you as a meal

My heart is stitched upon my sleeve
With a needle made of steel
Its colors bleeding, its unsewn parts
Weaving deeply for me to feel


The Fool, The Joker by Simon Lenthen

What masquerade is this?

The magician is disguised
and this poor fool
is searching for clues

Can I divine the divine?
Angels may dance on the head
of a pin, but I can’t see them.

Not even with a magnifying glass
yet this joker points
to the sky
to the ground
whilst hiding the tools of his trade

When the glass reveals
the empty cup
the cork smells of dry wine
and angels dance invisible

Alas, what good is a leap
of faith, if there is
no ledge to jump towards


familiar fruits by Michael Veloff

a familiar fruit
and strange rendezvous
in its own weird way
it puts up with you
what you give a little shit
to do
if your God can’t eat some M&Ms
and won’t give a passing glance
to your friends
you gotta ask the Truth
it just means we got our ends
just means we got our ends


Searching by K. Leigh Thoma

Is there a word
A truth
A thought once whispered
That can help define me
Will I always be that soul
Searching for my body

Is there a place
A moment
A paragraph written
That can help define my call
Will I always be that body
Searching for my soul


I Struggle With Love by Allene Angelica


Are not

My specialty

Is in the dark
Hidden places
Where I love to go

My muse lives there

It’s not that
I don’t feel


Is here
Surging through

My veins

Throb with
Fiery passion
Barely concealed
Filling my soul with
Radiant and bright

My mind just has no words

So I struggle with love


Dark and confused
Are my forte
Because I love to go
Where my muse
In the shadows
Calling me

I visit but never
Ever stay


Have Mercy… by Debbie Green Razey

In your strong sapphire blues I swim beguiled
Lost in translation; alone in your smile
Your sanguine lips cause me to bite my own
A King before me… I melt in your tones

Golden tousled locks fall about your brow
I heed your command… to you I will bow
I’m at the mercy of your every whim
With great precision you bind, tight, my limbs

I’m intoxicated by your prowess
I watch you nervously as you undress
Bronzed chiselled Adonis, before me stands
In anticipation… I clench my hands


It Is Not The Case by Michael French

…that he is unaware

He knows

Morning has a ritual
The cup filled
There is a price to be paid…a toll
toward the inevitable

A bottle later in the day
Appreciate the art contained
let the effect take hold
Drop a moment in the box

A few habits like this
Pleasure with an acknowledged cost
There have even been a few people
that qualify

The thought of the unexamined life
crosses his mind
He will admit….sometimes
It has some attraction

Understand, he does not pity
Especially himself
He embraces his choices
Alone, he raises a glass to The Bard

A fool thinks himself to be wise,
 but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.


red (brick) bonfire by Michael Veloff

rey mundo has lost his solar ring
nine times lost
nine times regained
the silver now resides
in his stash box
next to his pillow

knowing this
i went to read the glyphs
upon the wall of
the red (brick) bonfire
written (perhaps)
by some Machine

a man posed in warrior stance
(is that a spear in his hand?)
reclining dragon with her lips pursed
around a Marlboro
and a fast talking swan
the dolphin’s Tale

untitled by Mickey Draca
My fingers
My palms
My cheeks
My armsHave turned into yours
Growing branches
From temple of wineLeaking into unknown rivers
Where fish sing
Pet Names by Moon Sonata
You’ve never given me a pet name,
not really,
that’s why I would be all ears
whenever I heard one
while jogging with the squirrels
in the morning fog
and unusual words of affection
would pop out the windows
to lay down on the freshly cut grass
of the yards I was running by:
sweet cheeks, snuggle bun,
cuteness, love face…
I was never called any of these names
and my wild imagination
would picture them being whispered
in warm, welcoming kitchens
as apple pies
would come out of the oven
to arouse and embrace
with their heavenly odors,
or they might have been murmured
while sitting on deep carpets
in front of the fireplace
sipping sparkling champagne
from Baccarat crystal glasses.
I was never called any of these names,
though you called me “My Loreen”
and your voice was the sound
of a waterfall
flowing in gusts from a mountain top,
maybe that’s why I can’t bear
the thought of another voice
uttering my name as his own
for My Dear Darling,
All Rights Are Reserved.

Light by Andre Thomas

See I can’t pray to no religion cross been spread like disease, like sardines had us positioned as they brought us cross seas, now the pastor pass his plate, say pay he’ll take all yo sins, while the kids learn who to hate, guns get sparked at dark skin, looked in the mirror, had to stop and then I smiled it was odd, see if you look a little clearer at each child you see God, they say that things will never change, they kill the ones who might try, somehow I’ll rearrange the game, bet I bring light for I die!


Caged Flight by Evelyn Elizabeth

In my dreams, we soar
beyond reality.
A place
with such familiarity.
(each night)
Phantom pains rise within my chest
Caged flight
Feathers placed where ribs once lived.

If my soul had wings,
I could show you
where feathers
once grew.
(but here)
Bound by flowered existence
Down pillowed
Trailed in mere resistance
I am grounded

Neglect’s Sincerity
(Descuido de Sinceridade) by José CoelhoI love the hours that pass
between your pillows
and the distant voices
out of reachThe idea
as foolish as blameful
that there would be a place
somewhere, just for being
the ones
love could rescue for

As well as the wavering feeling
of something achieved –
an immense ocean of individuality
delivering meaning

and poetry


Pheromone Act by José Coelho

The music is playing
with furore
a line of vibration –
the exits
the views
the melody absorbing all
notes – written in tune
composing a greater world
as in a balloon
blowing, rising up words
unspoken, untranslated, meaningless
but, though
form within form
dropping insane wishes
let’s dare
to be bare
by the tongue
dancing upon your neck
your shoulder
blades swing, hush
and your fingers –
the piano type
take the music
for a navel dissection
of the never
ended prelude.


SUN IN LEO, MOON IN LIBRA by Laurie Corzett

Sitting here, in the cluttered fan-cooled kitchen
while a storm-brewing wind rustles
through the garden below.
The California wine tastes tart and sticky.
The wine tells me stories, you know.
It’s the redness and the way the light reflects
against the glass, along with the drug.
Hearing voices in the silent darkness,
I listen without question.
As the night slowly falls,
I envision fantasies of former lives:
Glistening ball gowns and a smiling orange moon
in a starlit sky appear in my mind’s eye
along with
jugglers and dancers.
A fortune-telling maiden in glorious rags
places cards upon a table:
“The red one is Death; the white one is Honour;
the green one is Fortune; the blue one is Love.”
She lives in a log cabin with a unicorn and goat
who feed and clothe her and keep her safe.
There are many things I need to know
and few to tell me.
So I listen to the wine’s stories.
I wish it were my garden, below.
I would go out barefoot and gather ripe vegetables
under the moon,
breathing deeply of the cool night air.



Uncertain Manner by Robert Horton

What manner of man
Would dare to insult your honour
And then bestow upon you his love?
He would be fortunate indeed
If I were not to challenge him to a duel.
Yet you accept his advances
In no uncertain manner,
A manner, if I dare, befit a harlot,
And I, who purports to love you,
Must accept his challenge.



In this mass of space ink and time
you of the same ilk
you of the same mind
we will seek
we will meet
in the same position
behold the same star to wish on
boundless enormity and empty mass
the odds are not against us
my southern compass arrow
spears straight through
juicing the Apple
with hungry hands outstretched
water diviner
we’ll feast and toast
drunk on cider


Dreaming Philosophies by Luke Normsy

The world being a stage
there must needs be bit parts

in the intricacies of God’s plan.

No actor yearns for a supporting
role, to be that C-list face
vaguely recognized, so unknown

the papers must report
what you were in your obituary
or when captioning a photo of
your more-recognizable spouse

e.g. she lives in Philadelphia
with her husband, the poet
Luke Normsy

whose role was something like

to purchase
a bag of organic apples in 2003,

to flip the finger at a guy
who cut him off once

to step on a certain ant
when mowing the lawn
of his first home

when the deed is done, the
curtain falls, the makeup removed,
but nobody tells you the run
is over

and what we see as monumental
simply side reactions before
or after the job is done

the rest, as was said,
is silence.

14 - 1

“Hallelujah” by Mark Read

We walked
We talked
We danced
We sang
We waved magic wands
We wove the Milky Way

We dressed in amber armor
We broke the Sun’s rays
We bathed in fractals
We were chaos
We were the last angry beat of a dying butterfly’s wings

We were the Yin and the Yang
We were love and loathing
We were hope and trumpets blaring
We were despair and hope ensnared

We divined water in the desert
We brought succor to wronged women and their kin
We were the bridge between a father and a prodigal son

We were the silence between Adam and Eve
We were the hunger for the apple, the twinkle in the snake’s eye

We were the Hallelujah at the birth of the world


Splashing with Infants by Luke Normsy

is a child’s birthday
party tomorrow

for some reason
either sadism or naiveté

it is at a swimming pool.

There we’ll be,
our wan, sagging bodies
destroyed and monstrous

by 4-5 years of dedication
to manic, demanding,
exhausting little creatures,

flopping like walruses
in a toddler pond
with the urine content
of a bus station toilet.

But the worst part is,
there’s this one mom
who meets the large-breasted,
flat-assed, ropey-muscled standards
of accepted beauty

and I, who have
no interest in such

will have to watch
the other dads

submerge themselves
to hide their guilty boners,
sneak sideways sunglass glances
for future solitary use,

and will be ashamed yet again
to be of a sex
driven by urges baser

than the charges
we’ll have to keep
from drowning.

tripping over words (people be) by Michael Veloff

gloominous ruminations
under a code of insulary conduct
but i a diagnose myself
i am this illness
i have concocted
from this highly strung out imagination
words have slippery slopes
one small slip and
on the ropes
the road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions
because these words
will never quite
what I have felt

3 Poems by featured moderator Uma Venkatraman

Blue In A Dress

Glorious azure
of a summer sky
heralds a lovely day
packed in a picnic basket
Sandwiches and red
chequered spread
Lazing in the green grass
weaving stories out of
clouds floating above
Dreaming of a life
spent in your cerulean eyes

The exact same shade
of the dress I had on
when you called me gorgeous
You traced the pattern
of the delicate lace
and I, feeling the warmth
of your touch,
hoped the fabric
would soak up
your essence
so you always felt close
when I wore it again

It now hangs untouched
in the dark recesses of my mind


Perhaps my future
is written in the dregs
the cup holds
Maybe my fate
is held in the cards
I don’t wish to magnify
what life has in store
Each day is best
uncorked afresh
I’ll keep the rest bottled
until it is their time
to unfold

Taste of You

On my lips, the salt
of your skin
adding a forbidden flavour
sweeter than the honey
infused in your tongue

Your limbs, garnished
with the tang
hiding in tears,
measure desire
in molecules
titillating the senses

I have craved for you
in my dreams
So vividly I savour
the feel of you on me
How could it be that
I have yet to taste you


The Magnificent Seven [Moderators/Co-Owners/Co-Editors]:
RC deWinter
Chris Flegel
Uma Venkatraman
Mary Macharia
Arthur Turfa
Frederick Andrew
Michael David Saunders Hall (aka the 21st Century Griot)
BigUps & Much To All Contributors. Remember: the poet tree will be streamed…so, let’s forever indulge in the balance of delicious agony and suite ecstasy of our everlasting leaves, always writing what the moment recommends to infinity and beyond. Till next time, Write On/;-)
Words on Fire.


    • All the pieces come from the Google+ community I started called Words on Fire…please come and join us;-)


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