Words on Fire V2E6

Words On Fire
…Imagineers of Pyrotechnic Poetics
Volume 2 Edition 6
( for August 2 – September 26, 2015)

We Didn't Start the Fire

featuring

  • Laurie Corzett
  • Michael French
  • Mickey Draca
  • Loretta Leslie
  • Kelly Gunter
  • Luke Normsy
  • Evelyn Elizabeth
  • Kiku Koibito
  • Tim Clayton
  • José Coelho
  • Portia Burton
  • Denise Baxter Yoder
  • Brittany Larson
  • Lynn Paden
  • Christin Brennan
  • Robert Price
  • Fergus Martin
  • Amit Herlekar
  • Niamh Serendipity
  • Allene Angelica
  • Gianfranco Aurilio
  • K. Leigh Thoma
  • Mel-Mel
  • Kristy Rulebreaker
  • Brock Gates
  • Priya Patel
  • D.W. Metz
  • Hayati Boer
  • & featured moderator, RC deWinter

 

Music of the Cosmos big.jpg

Pioneers by Kiku Koibito

Break the soil
Break the trail
Break the barrier
You must not fail
You are depended on
Protect the frail
Leverage every ounce of strength
Tack the wind, fill the sail
Never stop the righteous struggle
Live for the dream, through the gale
Your people safe within your care
A protected harbor, a peaceful vale

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Earth Goddesses by Laurie Corzett

 

Ceres, mother of the Earth
Athena, of cerebral birth
Juno, queen of all the gods
Vesta, pure against all odds
Virgo woman, faith bequeaths you,
standing proud amongst your sheaths.
Cunning service, gifts of grace,
in all fields is your place.
Virtue’s reason, mind and soul,
You plant the seed. You help it grow.
You till the soil and prune and weed.
You are the soil. You are the seed.

A snow-white light on field’s relief
reflects upon divine belief.
The image of a wishful star:
A steady shine — but still so far.
The nights of hope; the days of pain.
And on and on, that old refrain.
We are the lung, the gut, the spleen.
We are all we’ve known, foretold and seen.
We are the truth that marches forth,
boldly speaks, rebukes false swords.

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Night Write by Michael French
————

It is a night to write
something moody
maybe a little smoky

Something about how
after all of these years
and it’s been a few

I can still catch you
unsuspecting
unprepared and vulnerable

Slip my arms around you
lean you back
and all the lights come on

I know how to kiss you
you know how to kiss me
the result is quite remarkable

Just because I have been
on this trail a time or two
doesn’t mean there are no new discoveries

And for a Moment, actually a few
Nothing else really matters
The world could be falling around us

And it has a few times
Now that I think about it
Failing to touch us at all

This is what feels right, always has
You and me, in the midst of chaos
Pushing it all away, for these few moments

We have the capacity to receive messages from the stars
 and the songs of the night winds

–Ruth St. Denis

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untitled by Mickey Draca

 

Tread in my flesh
Telling a story
A metaphor of birth
To the Scavenger souls
Of birds
Ants
Snakes
And hoppers

To feed the letters
And sounds of winter mist
In a house of dead desire

For striving
For dying

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evenstar by Loretta Leslie

heavens washed in gold
venus shines in the gloaming
a ripple of light
evenstar

in the vastness of eternity
myriad of stars
you are the foremost
signalling night

I seek your solace
to you I throw my hopes
my dreams, my longings
secrets that we spoke

my desires lay barren
aspirations shattered
laid waste, abandoned
futile yearnings

on you I wish
my trust is placed
in your glorious infinity
oh goddess of love

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Starlight by Kelly Gunter

Ethereal luminosities sprinkled across
A tarnished canvas for all to see
Illuminating the crawling shadows
Making the night a safe haven
For without the stars’ brilliance
Darkness slithers among the innocent
Corrupting the beauty of the heart
Only fought by the lights in the sky
Once the colors of day fade to night
The stellar bodies begin to gleam
Providing guidance to those lost
Nightfall no longer a fearsome foe
Instead the splendor of darkness
Alight with small specks of light
Is patiently waited on; stargazing

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To My Father as We Wait by Luke Normsy

Her voice cracks as
she tells me the 1st
procedure didn’t work,
how the clot might move
to your lung

she’ll keep me posted

I am furious with you,
old man, you’ve let that
business kill you

it was your closest sun
orbited by all our lives’ events
carefully scheduled as
cheap insurance that you
might show up

my favorite summer
was when you cut off
your thumb, we went
fishing even though
neither of us could fish

we’ve had our moments
of raw emotion, I
believe I’m the only one
you showed them to

I will not wear a
pocket square to the
funeral, too ostentatious

a word you’d never use
and that I would not use
to you, it would certainly

remind you of mom,
how the hell you two made
it 10 years I’ll never know

we’ll do the whole bit,
receiving line, flowers,
the dinner, untangling

your Gordian finances,
laugh laughs tinged with
the sorrow of loss
when we stumble on
some keepsake

I walk the dog
and look at the stars,
you son of a bitch,
as a single tear
rolls down my cheek.

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Released by Evelyn Elizabeth

I was once caged
behind bars of guilt and shame,
locked up with a key of loneliness,

but I was freed
into the wilderness.

I did not run to my new found glory.
I crept warily into uncharted territory.

Surroundings not familiar yet somehow inalienable,
I made my way, though at times
uncomfortable.

Now, in fortitude,
I walk amongst the wild
with a persevering heart.
I found that
a lioness can be born,
when given a brand new start.

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Just Being by Tim Clayton
———

Not being cool
Or being busy,
Just being.

Not being myself
Or being somebody else,
Just being.

Not thinking too deep
Or going to sleep,

Not looking out far, just as far as infinity
Listening to everything in my vicinity
Not filtering,
Not anticipating,
Just meditating.

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Better People by José Coelho

Each Day

we invent

machines, better machines

what about

people

better
people

for pleasure
finer pleasure
able to scream, repetition, out
and loud

people able to feel
sand
under their feet – a qualm of ignorance
we tend to neglect –
and acrid sweat
in their cozy armpits –
playing

we ought do this shit
right? In order
to avoid late
frustration

Each day

for the sake of
pleasure and all its affiliates –
erotica, literature, art – let’s take
a walk in the park and watch
people
talking, dancing, kissing, sitting
in benches
their faces’ expressions, contagious
their bodies’ swing, melodic
along paths

Then, go home and improve
yourself.

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We, the Fragmented… by Portia Burton

We are never whole,
Nor anything can be called
Truly our own.
We remain divided
In fragments among others,
Unable to draw back
All our fragments
Even when the persons
To whom we have given
Precious parts of our heart,
Prove to be mere bubbles.
We are never practical,
Realistic or calculative
While distributing ourselves
Like a reckless spendthrift,
Nor do we ever bother
That we are required
At least a little for ourselves.
We keep assuring our heart
to make it whole again,
Unbreakable like steel,
Knowing all the time
The fallacy of such promise.

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True Love Story by José Coelho

We met each other one drizzly day, end of summer, under a squatted
sun.

It smelled like fresh
relief, due to the rain, patiently nibbling
the ground as if thirsty;
for love
and trust – eyes’ trust, mouth’s love and maybe
tenderness, hands’ tenderness.

Sex came, not
from the flesh but from the soul. The soul
is the inner inhabitant of the flesh and once touched
can irrigate the moon, soak
the desert in verdigris or whatever color
you dream of, believe
and so it happens we believed, blindly, in an endless
hued summer.

By the end of September, the city
dressed in gray water like suits –
tarry streets sunk
under introverted buses, building’s frontages
decayed, trees
whimpered in their loneliness, doves..
no doves were ok and people
were getting closed
as old cellars ready for renewal.

I still keep her letters, in a box
she gave me with a small
green dragon – such was her
nickname – inside. The dragon is gone and so is she
diluted with time and tears.

Before breaking apart we agreed
to meet
unconditionally
in a specific date, of the future.

That day will be
tomorrow!

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I Like Romance by Michael French
————-

I do
I like romance
We can stop for a drink
Find some place we can sit and talk
(Somewhere they don’t have the T.V on loud)
Listening is very sexy
So is sharing a laugh
Love seduction
I do

You do
still surprise me
Things you still find funny
I have come to trust your instincts
(However not your sense of direction)
Still, I like you in a black dress
Those earrings hanging down
You make me smile
You do

It does
Time keeps going
That is the way of things
Only in Myth nothing changes
(But understand, I am not complaining)
We are richer for the time spent
The years have grown fuller
My heart beating
It does

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.” 
― Oscar Wilde

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Summer’s August Days by Denise Baxter Yoder

Early morning clings like damp silk
Twisting me around in a snug cocoon
Warmth writhing between worn blades
Of an ivory fan spinning slow
Circles of heavy air
Hard to breathe
Parched
Craving coolness
I grasp a blue glass
Once ice cold but
Left untouched from the night
Sweat beads along its lines
Running in rivulets
Leaving white rings to soak below the grained oak desk
A vintage piece that belongs in a museum
I wonder if I belong there too
I have a history
And a few good artifacts
It might be cooler there
With high ceilings and central air
Sighing…..
I press this familiar smoothness to
My forehead…my arms…my neck
My lips open in welcome
This taste of  water is treasure
Quenching  thirst
As the sun shows its power to scorch
I rise to greet
The heat I meet
Waves of steam snake silently
Through the window screen
Beyond I see dry summer grass
In this last month of summer’s August days

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Hello my name is… by Brittany Larson

Hello my name is…
Isn’t this party great
Hello my name is…
Let’s get to know each other
Hello my name is…
Can I but you a drink
Hello my name is…
I think I like you
Hello my name is…
Let’s go somewhere we can be alone
Hello my name is…
That girl you won’t remember in the morning
Hello my name is…
I can show you a good time
Hello my name is…
At least until you get tired of me
Hello my name is…
Just keep your voice down
Hello my name is…
No one will ever know
Hello my name is…
I promise, they always promise.
Hello my name is…
I can never recover
Hello my name is…
You stole that chance away from me
Hello my name is…
Low self esteem
I feel like I have nothing else to take
So instead I just give
I’ve struggled for years
But I got tired of saying no
In a voice you never heard
Like I could be happy
Like I could forget the life stolen away from me
Like I could pick up the pieces of my porcelain heart
And put it back together
Make it whole somehow
Like I could just forget what happened
Like I wouldn’t remember that night
It just doesn’t work that way
Now all my encounters start out as
Hello my name is…
I can’t even remember anymore
Hello my name is…
Whatever you want to call me Sir
Hello my name is…
No longer a way I can identify myself Hello, my name is….
Brittany Larson
Why don’t you tell me your name
Why don’t we get to know each other
Just remember my story is a long one
It all started with
Hello my name is…
And he never let me finish

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Perfect Attendance by Evelyn Elizabeth

There was a book
of signatures
Penned and
neatly rowed
A list of first
and last names

I turned the page
sideways

I signed

Beth

Because that’s how
you knew me

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Hummus by Lynn Paden

 

she asked
for hummus
again

and even though
i have it
day to day

i got it
for her

just to see
her eyes
light up in glee

as she rejoiced
over something
i introduced
to her

long ago

when love
was young

and reactions
were still
unguarded

smiles
you can’t hide
are better than
tears
you must cover

in the light of day

(soon)

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The Value of Monogamy by Christin Brennan

I have allowed the others
take however much of me
their eyes can stow and save for later.

Spreading my legs,
going inside
my surface bestowed upon bone, muscle –

I plucked you
from a swarm of men to take home.
I allowed untold gazes,
sometimes so relentlessly,
glint became scrutiny.

I gave you the touch of flesh
outside of your own,
like the created allow to their creator
their bodies
when summoned;
as martyrs give their flesh to a truth –
in guise of searing flames
running up their thighs.

Bodies are nothing more than
blankets for the soul, right?
But still I allow you privileges past the facade of caressed flesh.
Up and under…
That must be my spirit!
Or my very being you knock on like a door!

One day you might spend as much time
on my face as my hips:
Because each time you look at me
and hum, ‘My beautiful brown doe eyes,’
then walk out of our bedroom,
I murmur,
‘They’re just dilated as hell you fool.’

So one day you may spend as much time on my face as my hips.

183

Locked Away
By Robert C. Price

When someone or something
looks beautiful to you
who can doubt your intentions
or argue your reasons
Your heart deems it worthy
and real
The mere reason that it brought
emotions to the surface has given
it weight and does not need an explanation
To those who don’t understand
you are the beholder of something rich
A color blast of outstanding vibrancy texture
character, truth, joy
Happiness is as fleeting as a snowflake but beauty does last
Locked away carefully in your heart with no outside influence

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Gravity by Michael French
——

a simple thing
it is called falling

it’s what we do
all of the time

We live on the edge of a hill
in three dimensions

our motion keeps us supposedly upright
but still falling, forever

Every now and again
something comes along

reminds us of the hill
and just how deep it is

how we are spectators,
observers, and that is all

We can do the math
calculate and describe

then we can look
and yes it is beautiful

but understand… it’s physics
cold, and in a way brutal

When you look up
realize you are not

there is no such thing
there is only falling

You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.
–Albert Einstein

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The Wanderer’s Companion by Fergus Martin

Like grains of sand we run through fingers of time,
wandering through life escaping to nowhere.
We are smoke whispers dissipating in the mist,
momentary pauses in unfinished scripts.
Drifting leaf-like on the winds of reality,
dust in the eye of the storm of existence,
fragments and particles in a shattered galaxy.
Hapless wanderers on a guilt laden pilgrimage.

Endlessly searching for dreams in this nightmare,
the company I keep my apparent redemption.
Those voices that test me seem my only salvation,
erstwhile companions on this rudderless voyage.
Their words are the compass forging direction,
lost in translation as battles rage within.
This constant confusion offers little redemption.
And the storms of this world engulf me once more.

Blown with the winds shaping this landscape,
moments of clarity appear through the fog.
Through the swirling mist I see a man at a harbour.
Arms outstretched in defiance he faces a flood,
and is lost in the tumultuous torrent of nature’s power.
As the storm abates he floats on the calm water’s surface.
And with the certainty of understanding I realise,
I am alone on my journey as I stare back at myself.

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Refrigerator Light by Evelyn Elizabeth

Surrounded by pictures of reality,
messages and meanings,
against the frayed edges of futility,
all bound together by dreaming,

I am perplexed.

A reality where
you are there
and I am here.
A reality where,
only in our dreams,
distance dies with
bloodletting and
love swallows the
soured milk
with the carton tilted back
and with one big gulp.

A reality where, by night,
I am lost and loneliness
beckons my soul’s trust.

I rely on only me.

But steeped in
intangible thoughts and
intangible feelings
and intangible people
who can’t hold me,

I just can’t figure it out.

How can I miss you so much
when we have never even touched?

Graced with only words
and seemingly limited choices,
my reality falls amongst the herd.

I hear only my soft voice

which is here
while you are there.

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FLEETING ANGEL by Amit Herlekar

I looked up turning around
The spectacle of magical swirls
Dancing with colors of joy
On the dark canvas of blue sky
As the glitters shower down upon me
I realize it’s you; it could only be you
My angel with large butterfly wings
Flying with the glow of nimbus
Who flew down from the heavens above
To tease me with your joyful play
Trying to hide in several places at once
While I get only the glimpses of you
Sometimes here, sometimes there
But I know where to look for
I spin around for a quick glance
And then you are gone
Leaving a twinkle in the sky

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Mirrors of Sadness by Niamh Serendipity

Shallot
Weaver lady
Tower on an island
Where she weaves to ward off a curse
Looking out for Lancelot her desire
Painting a boat for a journey
Death freezes her that night
The beauty of
Shallot

191

San Lazaro by Allene Angelica

 

My reality
Is out of place
Here
San Lazaro
Not syncing
With the natives
Nor the aliens
Copulating
Indigenes
Why
Are my thoughts
So foreign
I understand
Where they
Come from
And why
They migrate
But my essence
Does not compute
May-Decembers
Everywhere
I blush
In embarrassment
At the oddity
Though I’m the oddity
Thinking this way

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Nothing Certain by José Coelho

Within 4 hours, your face
will join me

outside, in the cold of the night
That weightless sensation
whirling within us, as speed
writing surreal poems
by the side of the highway – maybe

it was all happening
inside, even the landscape
cascading into our irises

But hell, no!
Your face, as an angel of glass –
warm though –
and sugar, dripping

onto my face. You
licked it, though it was cold
and dark.
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The Poet by Gianfranco Aurilio

The poet is a juggler
who uses words
instead of skittles,
is an illusionist
who hides dreams
in the top hat,
is a tailor
who chooses sunsets
to dress love.

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Now, Now, Now! by Kiku Koibito

Whirling on the precipice
I don’t care if i fall
Spin, spin, I’ll do it again
Dance of vitae, all

I can’t spend my time
Still and wilting gloom
The sun is out, I’ll drink it in
Plenty of time for the tomb

Run until my breath is spent
My heart pounding like thunder
Any day above ground is good
Soon enough, six feet under

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Writing Spider by Denise Baxter Yoder

How you balance quietly
Life lines weaving silently
Lace with grace do you place
My name within your web
Sweet writing spider
Yellow and ebony elegance
I greet your presence
With pleasure
Gentle guest
Spin your silken textures
In Autumn’s early light

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The Fairest of Them All by Evelyn Elizabeth

I stand before the mirror’s contempt
with freckled, pocked and scarred skin
An exhausted outer layer much unkempt
But I marvel at my own appearance

For what the mirror does not see
is brimming just below the surface
Cells are constantly regenerating
in the layers of my epidermis

Their purpose to live is only to die
A keratin-rich exterior prospers
an overcoat so I that may survive
So why in the mirror am I still awkward?

Digging deeper to the networks
that heal pulling skin together
with vessels, collagen and fibres
and nerves for touch, pain and pressure

Visible only imperfect follicles and glands
Under the folds lives flawless skin
Yet before the mirror here I stand
reconstructing my own reflection

Because just like skin the ego can be bruised
A surface meant to glow and be healthy
But outer layers are abused
All in the name of beauty

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Holding by K. Leigh Thoma

Holding on to what might have been
Is like holding on to a cloud
It was beautiful at one time
Yet left without a sound

I cannot reconcile my head
With the heart that I still own
I’m stuttered and disrupted
A broken unset bone

Crying about what was lost
Is like wishing for a wave
A masterpiece that once occurred
A wonder that can’t be saved

I beg for you, sweet memory
Please grant me a reprieve
Let me go forth with life
For I can no longer grieve

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Hard To Find
By Mel-Mel

So lonely in the midnight hour,
An empty heart can take but
So many cold showers.
Deep memories of what was,
Flashbacks of what new love
Does.
Feels so good for the first time,
It’s funny how in the beginning
Heart break never crossed the
Mind.
I had sight but was easily blind.
I had affection but true love was
Still hard to find.
Oh how much success is needed
For two soul to intertwine.
Only the skilled at love can turn
The grapes of wrath into fine
Wine.
Present pleasure turn into faded
Moments in time.
I had sight but was easily blind.
I had affection but true love is
Still hard to find.

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In the Free World by Laurie Corzett

I don’t listen to the colour of the bluesman’s skin.
I engage with the power of music.
I am music, not just while it’s playing.
Ordered vibrations cosset me, hold like a
heart-bound twin.
Names, sad biographies, personalities
grandiose or subdued, but delusions.
Substitute equivalent qualities sold as sums
that define identity.  Told how to hear
or say.  Mere chatter, in the way that ideations
whether profound or silly are spread; day by
dreaded day.
Sound from will, music imbues momentum,
interweaves with what keeps us
who we become
and overcome.

202

Thank You For Asking by Luke Normsy

They say things as
if I’m the one with
small-cell carcinoma
mutating my guts

I hear about their
fathers, mothers,
aunts who were
like mothers, friends,
grandmothers sometimes,
sometimes themselves

lungs, colons, skin,
lymphomas, thyroids,
pancreas once in a
while, and of course

breasts with pink
everything bearing
childish slogans

(perhaps I will start
a brown-ribbon
feel your butthole!
campaign in his honor,

2¢ of every dollar spent
on Budweiser goes
to the Mack Normsy
Foundation, LLC)

I hear tales of grisly
death but more
often suspicious
FOAF accounts of

people determined
to be healthier than
ever! 2 years since
being filled with
pesticides

someone even
spoke of a brown
liquid that cures
everything, it comes
from a faraway land

but the healthcare
industry (or whoever,
“They,” you know)
is hushing it up

I know they are
trying to be kind

but kindness is
trying when death
is on the couch
watching the game

as for me
I am planning
on “quick and
unexpected,
possibly young,”

I’ll be remembered
much longer than
those who die
before death

and you, well,
you won’t
have to tolerate
the somber verses
of a dying man

but guys like
me live forever,
small-cell
carcinomas that
we are

and
that brown
liquid is
bullshit, which
there is plenty
of right here
at home

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Harvest by Kiku Koibito

Dust of chaff
Flies from the harvester
Wet blue bandanna
I breathe moist air
I gather what becomes bread
For a thousand-thousand people
Leave the fields shorn
Until next year
Field mice flee before me
Kali has descended for them
But I am the feeder, the gatherer
For my own
Demeter abides

205

LIBRA by Laurie Corzett

The scales of Justice
Yin and Yang
The interchange of love
A world in perfect balance
Twixt summer/winter extremes
The perfect beauty of sun shining
on rainbow puddles
reflecting the brilliant colors
of changing leaves.

206

Good or Bad? by Kristy Rulebreaker

I wish them all the worst
I send them the curse

I am not a bad person
I do not send any curse

Oh I am, I am bad
All the good they killed

Oh no, I am not bad
I will never be like them

I am good, I am bad
I am bad, I am good
This fight with myself
will never, ever end

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Sweet On The Tongue ~ Etheree Form by Niamh Serendipity

Speak
Kindly
Softly said
Taste every word
Comfort for the mind
Nurturing to the soul
As sweet milk to an infant
Gives nutritional contentment
Though without love it will soon run cold
Considerate words with love make a splash

208

“Your Heart Beats My Blood” by Brock Gates

Violet toned ribosomes
Inside the beating heart of your ex love
Leading you to remember times that
You were psychologically intimate
Petals of the self-wrapped and
Beautifully woven around them in
Your soul forever
For the eternity that is speed of light from which we’ll
See eachother
Again
When suns die

209

Walking Naked by José Coelho

An exact finger
closed my eyes
as hers, minutely
were
driven out of her body
commingled with what was left of night’s
star dust

I wasn’t scared – there was no space
there was no time; in fact
there was nothing

And so it remained
literally
a border of voids

until the next winter

an exact finger
pointed hungrily at three
but irrelevant facts:

a window was missing and I was cold

I didn’t walk naked for a long time – and that
had become an habitude

sheets of paper laid
spread on the table, a blanket hung on the chair and I
was sitting, mercilessly
writing

211

Frontier by Luke Normsy

It wakes me in the night or
keeps me from getting there
in the first place, this

damned dichotomy, all
the evidence is suspect,
the witnesses give inconsistent
statements, call the

nurse coming in at
3 AM to find me holding
my father’s hand as he tumbles
in morphine dreams, follow

her with the guy who
looks down and sees the
point of my blade protruding
from his chest, right through
the heart, it’s a hung jury
over and over; wonder whether

the acerbic observations that
pepper my verses are chunks
of wisdom, avoidance of sincerity,
solicitation of praise, the black
banana of cynicism; struggling

to reconcile the man who’d
pull you back from a speeding
bus with the one who’d cut
your throat afterword, then

one day realizing the shallowness
of labels, worms eat the good
and the bad without pausing
to discriminate:

I am a con-man who likes
Bruce Springsteen and strong
coffee, not afraid of commitment
but rather made bored by it,
capable of beautiful and terrible
deeds in equal measure

but still awake or waking at
3 AM to hold a hand or slap
it away, searching, always searching

for the next line.

212.gif

Leave It There
By Mel-Mel

These are just my thoughts,
Like food for the hungry,
A small meal I feel compelled
To share.
In this New World Order of
virtual reality and instant sensuality
We seek to influence people
Who influence people, who
Influence people, lol…
At its lowest common denominator
It is the soul speaking to soul,
Heart speaking to heart,
Mind to mind.
All asking someone
To care.
At our best we bring abundant life to
Seductive death…
It is like the luminous light that
Overcomes the void of darkness
And eternal life to finite despair
It the oxygen of existence,
The movement of progress,
The wind to air.
It is many things yet seen but
Unseen…
However, it’s getting late and my
Mind is tired so we’ll leave it
There.

213.gif

Sometimes…by Priya Patel

Sometimes I see her
as an apparition before me,
finger wagging
smiling that smile;
walking across the broken tile
in the kitchen we no longer use

Sometimes I can sense her
in the leaves outside
rustling with pride
at the funny ways
my kids make dad laugh;
and I miss her

Sometimes I hear her;
a whisper in my ear
reminding me to be softer,
to have patience, smile more
asking me to read her my poems
and to breathe a little space

And sometimes I can feel her
holding my hand
soft like wet sand,
warm and inviting
and I wish I could just
close my eyes and hold her

Sometimes …

215

vinifera by D.W. Metz

a dangerous dance
these pills i’ve come to trust
washed down with wine
in a chalice full of rust
wishing only to forget
what was never mine to lust

219

 

Carpet Of Earth by Hayati Boer

carpet of earth
stain of sweat
drops of blood
plain allegation
misguided streets
desolate lesion
illusive love
flavoring, taster
imperceptible testimony
carpet of humility
passionate sentient

vestige of horseshoe
swords of warfare
inscription of gold
crown of platinum
crown of silver
stored or vanished
deserted muttering

piece of carpet
living art
runic ground
tears of the love
tears of the tempest
altar of the sacrificial
knitted the laces of love
possessed
to in loved

218

Dim Me! by José Coelho

If I look at the stones
the trees
the skies above
a huge sense of anxiety
disrupts
me

as if a rope has been
cut
long ago, between
me and the rest

I need a fix
of thoughts
of memory
a bit of quartz in
my heart
and of green pulp in
my blood

Maybe that will dim
my perception
lower my
temperature
anesthetize my
emotions

so I can
breathe

221.gif

Natural Cure by Kristy Rulebreaker

When you wake me up with an embrace
I forget I am an angry beast
I become cotton and a deer
Your love is melting the steel

When you wake me up with a kiss
I forget many people are the ice
and I love all the people in the world
The world seems to me much better

When you wake me up with gentle words
You destroy despair and discomfort
You restore my smile and my courage
You are my natural cure

222.gif

How Grammie and Grampa Met by Michael French
++++

Well honey…I met your Grammie downtown
In that place by the river
You know, where the men go to see the ladies
swing their tassels

Oh God

Anyways…Grammie laid eyes on your Grampa and she
fell in love on the spot
We’ve been together ever since
…well yes, she may have been working there I don’t remember

Oh for heavens sake…
Look sweetie… I wasn’t working there
and at the time it wasn’t a place like that
It was however a place people go to have a good time
and Your Grampa was having a great time
He had been drinking Dizzy Juice
Since noon

That last part is true

Anyways he sat down beside me and said..

Something about her nose being like a ski-jump…

Something really silly anyways and then he staggered off

With some blonde

Anyway … I was in love
and we have been together ever since

Now…you go tell your Mom that story, I don’t think she
has ever heard it, and we will see you later.
……Love you sweetie

You Jackass
why did you tell her that?

Because what echoes back from her Mother
will be funny as hell
and besides…….. major parts of that are true

You are a Jackass

I know
You gonna swing your tassels for me later?

If you ask nice…..

“Man may have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it.” 
― Candace Bushnell

224

untitled by Mel-Mel

 

It’s in the cool of midnight
And I’m just viding.
Poetically relaxed in my
Thoughts so ain’t nothing
Complicated that I’m signifying.
I’m living for the positive while
The negative in me is slowly
Dying.
Like a stop watch every thing
Moves in a set timing.
I remember when I was a rookie
Now I’m a vet when it come
To poetic rhyming.
It’s all good as long as I stay
In rhythm.
I reflect to bring different colors
To your mental prisms.
It’s a beautiful picture presented
In 4k vision.
This is a crazy life and time but
It’s important not to let your heart
And mind become a prison.
Those that are numb to reality might
Be the ones who didn’t listen.
It’s a crazy world full of the dangerous
And the foolish but honestly,
You already knew this.

225

3 Poems by featured moderator RC deWinter

 

unseasoned

the wheel turns
i take not much notice
the spring display of flowers
summer’s array of delights
melt quiet into autumn nights
it’s always winter in my heart

swamped

like a needle on an ancient phonograph
stuttering on an endless vinyl groove
i am stuck
hicupping my way around a narrow band
of ignorant pettifoggery
scraping the same platitudinous whine

day in
day out

not wanting to upset the creaking applecart
lurching across this wasteland
i swallow a gutbucketful of bitterness
every day

crunching ugly words
like so much stale bread
until my mind is raw
striated from indigestible spicules
scratching the thin membrane of sanity

i am guilty of no crime
other than being who i am
yet daily condemned for it
bunyan’s slough of despond
is a riotous carnival of mirth
compared to this swamp
of self-righteous pablum

even knowing i would plummet into the sea
i would gladly wear the wings of icarus
to claim a slice of glorious silent freedom

Orphans of the Storm

Rain bucketed down,
cold and full of coming winterchill,
and wind – the wind!
A restless cosmic traveller
determined to rearrange the landscape,
leaving it a chaotic abstract
of autumn’s former solemn beauty.

Eventually it stopped, that storm,
and I, housebound for hours, needed air.
Though I knew my shoes would drown
in vicious muddy puddles
out I stepped into the twilight aftermath,
just to breathe, to waken dormant blood,
to see what I could see beyond four walls.

Sad and sodden leaves lay beaten on the ground,
haphazard huddled innocents
whose offered beauty, harshly stripped
from maple, birch and oak,
was ignored in favor of capricious destruction;
but then, indifferent nature
plays no favorites with her children.

If leaves can suffer pain I know their feeling:
one minute still attached to life,
the next flung willy-nilly beyond rescue.
As much as they might wish to live,
an unknown, unseen hand has otherwise decreed.
We are orphans, these leaves and I,
consigned to that great graveyard known as chance.

EndNotes
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/;-)
tumblr_makp20xful1r57f52o1_500.jpg
©2015 Words on Fire.

P.S.

Merry Christmas…& Happy New Year;-)
we-are-all-connected-debi-hammond
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