Fire. It has many connotations. From desire to destruction, fire becomes the element that carries the most power. Think of an aspect of fire as your inspiration and let it fuel your burn!
MARIES FIRE:
MADE IN HEAVEN Introduced couple. Spontaneous combustion. Someone lit a match. © Marie Elena Good, 2022
WALTS BURN:
CONFLAGRATION Molten heat, flesh dripping with the perspiration of passion's fire. Crimson patches with crusted edges; blisters of the resistant strain of hearts wanting more to ignite and burn in sacrifice; the stench of charred skin, a blood offering to the gods who pander to longing. The pyre broils unbridled, arms out- s t r e t c h e d and reaching to breach the ford between love and lust. A bridge. It is what is, from the sanctuary of solitary souls. Barren. No one watches, no one sees from whence smoke rises. Immolation becomes my affliction, setting myself ablaze for adulation's sake, an implosion of inward emotions laid bare. And there, where only ash remains a powdered stain where once hearts conjoined. (c) Walter J Wojtanik- 2022
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Excellent offerings Walt and Marie. Way to light the flames!
I agree
Thanks Mary!
Thank you, sir! Feels good to be back this week!
Light it
Burn that candle
Now light the other end
See how long it takes to burn out
That’s no way to live your life
Spot on
100% agreement.
Flame on!
Bring on the heat
Don’t you just love that smell?!?
Burgers and dogs for everyone!
And a tall glass of iced tea!
Making me hungry, this is.
This one makes me smile.
Diamond
Hot August Night
Blasting in my headphones
Wish I coulda been in the crowd
Vinyl is the next best thing
Either that, or shellac.
Shellac would gum up the stylus, don’t you know.
( was thinking of old 78s, which were made from shellac, I think.
You may be right. But I’m only 67 so not sure. haha
Nice!
Hey Walt
Yo Ms Marie
Y’all sure do inspire
You ignite our poetic flames
And bring out the best in us
Aye
Awww! Thank you sooooo much, Earl! All of you inspire us GREATLY!
and I must say, you are on quite the roll today!!
Fiery fury, love ignited… well written Walt! Every aspect of passions anticipation and momentum and movement in this.
Marie, such a perfect conclusion — “someone lit a match!”
Glad you caught that, Damen. Thanks much! This one is a nod to my sister and brother-in-law, who I introduced. I used to teast them, because my sister initially told me he was very nice, but there was no “spark.” Well, that “no spark” turned into what I called spontaneous combustion. 😉 And I was the one who “lit” that “match.” 😉
THE POETRY IN THE ASHES
The walls completely collapsed
in on themselves.
Smoke, unbearable heat, rising to
the top.
Mercilessly burning the forefront
of his own mind.
The lure of the flames were one of a kind,
provocative, abstruse;
frolicking to and fro,
indiscriminately.
It consumed him—
entirely.
Until even the embers
mocked him.
They settled themselves
along with the dust.
Humbled.
Until all that was left,
were the poetry of ashes—
The unfettered words that
described him.
© Benjamin Thomas
Another Bingo, this.
Very nice. A great poem about loss.
Goodness, Benjamin. A WOW, this one.
Thanks!
Wonderful writing, Benjamin!
Thanks Sara!
Marie, that tiny poem is a big “B” Bingo.
Thank you, Bill!
Walt, your hot piece nonetheless leaves me with a chilled feeling; very effective. I also admire the several poetic devices you sprinkled through it.
Couldn’t agree more with this assessment!!
EVERY LIFE NEEDS ITS OWN BACON
Stressful times
diminish the grease
that obscures
life’s lean meat:
the time spent in frying pans
tempers one for fire.
Oh yes. Truth here
Bacon
My morning treat
With eggs and a bagel
and coffee from the night before
The best way to start my day
Love how you snuck this on in here, Earl!
Read this 3 times over. There is so much packed into these few words. Brilliant, and skillful!
Good one, William!
MUSIC MIGHT SOOTHE A SAVAGE BREAST, BUT….
Sometimes, ire
can explode to fire
and no lyre
can conspire
to retire hate when one’s ire
gets stuck in its mire.
No liar, you
Rekindle the desire
to extinguish the fire
engulfing your ire
before something dire
sinks you in the mire
that leads to hell fire
Lift your eyes higher
He will inspire
a righteous fire
a rekindled desire
William – I don’t always comment, but you’re offerings are always moving and inspirational.
So kind of you to say so. Thanks.
Good one, Earl, and I agree 100% with your personal message to Bill. So true.
Gosh, such great use of monorhyme! Skillfull, again!
Wow! Monorhyme is fine.
Story after the Fire
last whiff of smoke
a string of white
twists upward
into air
crisp steps snap
breaking remnants
of undergrowth
sometime after
the ground cools
a gust of wind
scatters seeds
from charred branches
the wind sings
a song of renewal
as sprouts break ground
and reach
for a distant sun
in skies so blue
a new day
in eyes of a child
the ending stirs
its own beginning
as the land
bears its age
Marvellous!
Indeed!
Wonderful words, Mike!
Still Raging
Ebony and amber embers,
The remains, a forest scrubbed.
The flame, fast as the flick of a finger.
Earth stretched sinew and string.
So vivid, and so few words to do so. Wonderful.
So much in so few. My favorite type of poem. Soooo good to see your expert work here, Misky!!
Thanks!
This is alive!
After Victor Hugo
Before I was fully a man,
I was a fitful, remorseful lad,
regretful, sad, Ill-pleased then,
lamenting the life I’d had.
Before I could become
a newborn worker of light,
I strode through valleys dark,
my angry fire burning bright.
There was no path,
yet miracles ensued,
friends helped me find my own,
my body and soul rescued.
The raging fire now quenched,
the rouged embers languish,
long after midnight’s knell,
yes I know this body healed,
every fiber, every cell.
Love the message in this remarkable work. It so reminds me of the path I trod for far too long. It’s good to be back in the arms of God once more.
Such skillful and apt rhyming.
Be still my heart …
SPARK
when the vast night
held no bright
light
in some far
distant star
perhaps bizarre
a silent, ‘Hark’
came from the dark
in a flash, a spark
quietly igniting
no longer hiding
just a presence, nothing biting
why it came or when
what made it start or begin
or even where had it been
there was no answer
nothing definitive or sure
just created a stir
it didn’t just spark light
it did that, quite
a most astounding sight
giving us inspiration
activating every nation
all of us part of the fun
it lit a fire
bringing about desire
engulfing us higher
our inner flames could burn
constantly activating every yearn
defining an interest to learn
we carry it to this day
in our hearts, it will stay
it sparks each word writers say
we can choose to keep it alive
let it soar, swoop or dive
it’s our amazing muse and drive
just hope it never dies
because its in our core, where it lies
it takes us everywhere it flies
a spark for the endless ages
a light meant to highlight stages
a fire that destroys unnecessary cages
we are that, too
Its in me and you
just keep it living, that will do!
(c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2022
Janet, the rhyming throughout this is amazing, because it doesn’t detract from meaning in the least. Beautiful, beautiful work.
A dilly of a Skeltonic, this.
Thank you for your kind comments! 🙂
Gorgeous writing, Janet!
Cabin Fireplace
Years ago, in a cabin
out on Montauk, Long Island,
two couples spent a February
weekend together. We had
groceries, we had wine,
and reveled in the old
cabin smells of wood, ash,
and age. Aside from each
other’s company, we had
a fireplace. One night
we used a magical log.
Flames flounced like
ballet dancers. Autumn
colors appeared on their
tips–orange, mustard,
scarlet, and forest green.
Dancing lights on a
frosty February night.
Never forgotten.
Sara, this is gorgeous. I feel the peace and relationship, the feeling that comes with a much-needed getaway. The beauty of the special fire is something I would have loved to witness. It sounds mesmerizing. Love this poem!
Thanks, Marie!
So evocative, especially, for me, ” … wood, ash, and age.”
Thanks, William. If I close my eyes, I can smell it all again.
flames flounced like ballet dancers!! How evocative and gorgeous.
Thanks, Pat!
PSYCHOPATHIC BEAUTY
What is more resolute
than the irreverence of flame?
Its blithe indifference is cruelty—
however inadvertent, or knows you by name.
A lethal attraction, a toxic beauty; regards no
remorse, knows no sympathy nor shame.
© Benjamin Thomas
Rivetting, especially the first stanza, in my opinion.
Yes, that first stanza is excellent!
Thank you sir
One Summer Vacation
Pine fire
Dark clouds of smoke
Helicopters overhead
A canyon in Colorado
We made it through that time
It caught my attention that you specified a pine fire.
This one just flowed out of me…
Fire on the Mountain
I heard them say nothing is worse
Than a fire on the mountain….
It rages for days
Ripping down stately trees,
And jumping hollows…
I watched a fire burn
Away the trees on ridge after ridge.
It was a fearful fire but
Nothing compared to the fire
You have set in my soul.
Lightning struck,
And I was aflame…
A fearful flame.
Fear was there,
Mostly because burns hurt,
But I walked into that flame…
And it is still burning.
I am standing on a mountain…
For I climbed its heights
And feel the pains
Of the journey….
I see the valley below
And know those that look
Up to where I stand
Do not see me,
But they see that sunset
That is me, and it is blazing
Across the sky and
The mountain
Looks like it is on fire…
Don’t worry,
I may be on that mountain….
But my sunset has not come…
Always said I would go out
In a blaze of glory.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
August 15, 2022
[…] For P’Bloomings “Fire”. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter […]
FATAL ATTRACTION
There’s a mystery to a flame’s candescence
and unerring destructive power.
Its dalliance poses as guileless red wine flowers,
still deadly—never irresolute in desire.
Its subtle lure; a seamless, fatal attraction,
having an infinite appetite for consumption.
Until her sadistic beauty inflicts the ultimate
reduction of her lover…to unsuspecting cinders.
© Benjamin Thomas
Great use of :”dalliance”:
👌
“guileless red wine flowers’ – Love that!
👍
Baptized by Fire
I didn’t know
That when I became a warrior,
That who I would be rescuing
Was myself.
I remember the night
I prayed for the Holy Spirit
To guide me, and
I felt my skin grow warm,
And I began to feel the spinning
That took me higher
And higher
(Years later, I learned
That others had felt that spinning
When I prayed, but it was
Never ever me that caused it.)
I was
Higher
Than I had ever been…
When I stepped from my prayers
My feet didn’t touch the ground.
I thought it would burn out,
But the embers still burn,
Burning away the dross…
The useless wasteful parts of me
Burned away with those embers,
And that which was gold within me
Was molded and shaped
Creating me a new creation…
For a beautiful soul is eternal
In the Lord, and blessed
In ways unimagined…
They say the first battle of a warrior
Is called baptized in fire,
And as I walked into that battle,
I carried the Word given to me
Into that battle, and
My armor was forged in fire,
And in my weakness
I was invincible.
I stand before you
A warrior born
On the night
I prayed and gave my soul
And all that I am to the Lord.
I was broken then…
I am who I am now
Because of that one prayer…
And all the prayers that came
Afterwards…
I am here to confess
That I would not be who I am…
If I had not been baptized in fire…
This grateful soul
Rejoices in those battles…
For I am blessed.
I am loved…
Mary Elizabeth Todd
August 17, 2022
Gorgeous
Thank you
AMIDST THE FLAME AND SMOKE
It’s odd,
but most bonfires
seem to show some places
smoldering with long-forgotten
faces.
I can see this perfectly, William.
It’s the Ignition
the sizzle the spark
that spreads chars the edges
print curling ash falling
from the page
and then
the leaping its heady confirmation
sentences and paragraphs
whole chapters
and those leathered covers
branded hides wrestled
to this ground with the agony
of writers and readers
shrouded in the ecstasy
of censors hell bent on their warped limits
books too many to list
more every year thrown on
these fires of self-righteousness
but somewhere a flame flickers
atop a candle in some attic room
and another writer pens a tale
exposes a truth a passion
while on a smoky public square
someone dares to sequester
a banned tome beneath a jacket
sends it as a packet across the seas
even as someone else douses the flames
combs through the ashes for
a single word to take away
a talisman against the past
a pledge to ignite the future
with what these fires cannot consume.
Love the ending on this excellent poem, Pat!
For me, this trembles with indignation and hope.
Love that haiku, Marie!
That is some powerful poem, Walt!
My thoughts have been elsewhere…My nephew Daniel who is 46 is like a son to me and on Christmas Eve he told me that he had stage 4 cancer..of the sinuses… this morning I called him early to say my prayers went with him because he was going to have an MRI to see if the treatments had worked. I got a call and Daniel is cancer free. The joy I have felt all day has been amazing.
Wonderful!
It is