An Old Flame

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  • Lost Love

    An Old Flame
    I wonder; Is this how a fire feels?
    With coals unstirred,
    Its strident flames dampened;
    Denied its own creative being,
    Does it fester in frustration-
    its passionate anger barely disguised,
    Or does it die a quiet death...
    Remembered only by its ashes?

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    bodavis’s Poems (9)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Hiroshima 1 02/16/2009
    Canadian Epiphany 0 02/16/2009
    The Wonder 1 02/16/2009
    An Old Flame 0 02/12/2009
    Just Around The Corner 0 02/10/2009
    Isaac Newton: The Limerick 1 02/10/2009
    Wilber & Orville 0 02/10/2009
    The Wonder 1 02/10/2009
    You Want Magic? 0 02/10/2009
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