each night I roar up at stars I shake my mane at injustice it is not right that I am here I am the Sun I am Majesty but I am aground so hear me roar ROAR loud enough will they hear it ROAR and ROAR some day they must hear it ROAR and ROAR … Continue reading at stars
rapture in the flame rapture in the dance rapture is rising reaching the sky rapture in the coal rapture in the glow rapture in containment of the fire heart lying quiet hearth is a home to rapture a home to worship a kind of love so ... let the dance begin add a stick of … Continue reading rapture
the fire is a transformation cleansed to a state of purity devoured to a state of ash blown away in a state by the wind ~ Poem #534 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.
every day I begin again every day from nothing so when I stand it is my own design I rise to the morning from naught I think myself again into the morning ~ Poem #525 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.
I live in the borderland I am not a man I am not a god perhaps I am both these things in a fusion in my hand I hold a fire mine to keep or mine to give in my mind I hold a fire I know where it is it is mine to take … Continue reading flay me (jealously)
he felt himself a little mad possessed by flame dreaming destruction longing for a greater completeness to his own ears even his laughter was the cackling of a conflagration always when he closed his eyes he saw the working of the fire rising as flame felt the heat of it within he knew that at … Continue reading a dream of completion
way-way what is the song of fire way-way-way what is the dance flames shiver up and down and wavering what time will keep the rhythm of the fire dance way-way way-way way-way-way way-oh-way-oh kiss kiss the flames arising way-oh-way the fire dance ~ Poem #505 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and … Continue reading dance
in restless sleep as he dreamed the fire rose and swirled the devourer unleashed to color the skies red a storm wild and unbridled burning where it struck grey ash cinders and char in its wake in restless sleep he dreamed the fire flew in black and he knew an empty place within ~ Poem … Continue reading dream of empty
last consumed the last remained both covering and revealing the modest mound of ash gradually being eaten awayfrag by its own small dance of flames almost as a final act as a conclusion to combustion a black feather rose in the near elegance of a plume of blue smoke released by the band of the … Continue reading feather to fly
it is a fire it is a man I blink … it is the smokeof a thingthat was I blink … it is ~ Poem #468 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.
