Watching the Fire
By Jane Hyphen
- 766 reads
I sat and watched the fire,
I let it hold me in its stirrings,
wrapping its wings around me,
burning away the layers,
melting the seal of everything
that was long and lost.
Boiling sap, running like tears,
the helpless timbers wept,
their gnarly tracks all aglow,
lighting the way back
to when we were green.
Searing flares of reflection
ignite the darkest corners
of memories held.
Faces in the smoky distortions,
choked me as they thinned away.
And among the scalding rattle,
a song played of my father,
I saw his little devils
dance among the embers.
I stared at old flames, knowing
they were only ever flashes.
From restless simmers
of the past, the firebird made
the softest nest of ashes.
I watched as she grew weaker
among glinting amber lights.
And with a gentle hiss she died away,
leaving only her dreamy embers.
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Comments
This is beautiful. "I let it
This is beautiful. "I let it hold me in its stirrings" is perfect for that need to look deep into flames, not look away, as if in respect for what is happening to the trees, their long lives.
" everything
that was long and lost.
Boiling sap, running like tears,
the helpless timbers wept,
their gnarly tracks all aglow,
lighting the way back
to when we were green"
that's brilliant. And how you describe the heat as wings, wrapping round you is wonderful. And the end, when you write of the firebird, it is as if magic died
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Pick of the Day
This magical poem is our Facebook and X Pick of the Day!
Picture by mattbuck, copyright free from Wikimedia Commmons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wraxall_2013_MMB_76_Bonfire.jpg
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this poem is breathtakingly
this poem is breathtakingly good Jane. Your imagination as to what you are seeing in the flames of the fire took my breath away. I like how at the beginning you start with a crescendo, then at the end fades...such a perfect ending.
Very much enjoyed and such a worthy poem.
Jenny.
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you are fire, the creator.
you are fire, the creator.
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"Searing flares of reflection
"Searing flares of reflection
ignite the darkest corners
of memories held.."
There's a certain cathartic feeling when reading this that swirls around the dreaminess. Smoke and fire metaphors in themselves and laid bare by your poem.
Beautifully done, Jane.
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Burning embers all aglow
A nostalgic but whimsical poem. I liked the line "their gnarly tracks all aglow". Also, I think of the tree rings as stored memories in time's vault. A sentient verse that titilates the imagination. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
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