1:29 PM | Author: Sherry Italia
As I want to capture her mystical moves
As she gracefully sways to the tune of winds
Her golden body bathed in illuminance
She ignites the fury raging within
Her hot breaths giving a pleasured warmth
Dancing intensely in the dark of the night
She commands my undwindling gaze
She kindles that flame of hope in despair
Her presence melts the strongest barriers
Even in the coldest heart of stone
Her birth is magical, her death even intriguing
She is a creator and a destroyer
Her wrath will render no mercy
Her warmth will find no parallel
I wait in anticipation to trap her glow
Her wavering persona deludes me each time
She teases me and tests my patience
Yet, she is that spark in every desire
She is a Goddess, she is Fire....

*written when I wanted to photograph the lighting of a matchstick for my photography assignment....and that's what I managed to capture
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2 scribbling(s):

On November 17, 2010 at 5:39 PM , chirantantalks said...

What is a poem without a wake,
Or a toilet without a dime?
The fires of life must vent or break,
So I hope you'll look at mine.


On November 17, 2010 at 6:22 PM , The Wanderer said...

Poems are just coordinates,
locations on a map.
Revel not in the words themselves,
but where the mind is at

Some flames are meant forever ;-)