See the companion piece Friction (Etheree).
Slow, abrasive, each its ammunition: carpet-bombing napalm throws sparks, filling the location.
shoving, pushing, its predisposition to pull down and back relentlessly: the prolonged collision.
What is a sweetbriar?
April 2020 Poem-a-Day Challenge #25
not when flames
burn highest and brightest but when, the flames having died down, the coals turn hoary and glowing. then.
April 2020 Poem-a-Day Challenge #14
the pallid skies flush with fevered clouds
each cough of thunder and drop cast doubt over sunshine like a shroud, quarantined till the quaking foundations settle down
lightning hides in nimbus cover, aims
its bah-bolts at passersby, lame from their stumbling flight from enflamed fears and rubbled homes lost in tectonic games
who will grab the corners of the earth,
steady its morse-code vibrations, spurn the chaos with iron stability, grant new limbs to the lame, wounded, and burned?
What is a gwawdodyn byr?
a huge advantage over fire. Not only does it run, rage, and bully–– it can also drip.
What is a Shadorma?
Wherefore Gregory makes the contemplative life to consist in love of God, inasmuch as through loving God we are aflame to gaze on His beauty.
St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II-II,180,1.
The heat that spreads and warms also
Serves as light to repel the dark, That warmed and lit we may bestow On beauty as our fixèd mark.
What is a Seadna?
November 2019 Poem-a-Day Challenge #5
A green vine not growing,
Not pruned nor watered, Yet ever full of blooms Blazing with fiery hues. Neither leaf nor branch burns: A shoeless sight to see.
What is a Flamenca?
Captured by NASA’s Terra Satellite ( Source)
Flying ice ore
Hurtling through space Slams into atmosphere And explodes for miles long And the swirling swift clouds beneath Flow along the currents of air Undeterred by the fire That streaked by overhead.
What is an Octodil?
I yield the javelin, buckler, and spear
To hands whose stronger grip Can relax my fists, my fingers clenching And my vain vengeance strip. Let blessing then be my javelins hurled: May kindness, goodwill, my banner unfurled.
Let the fire I call down upon their heads
Be the flames of mercy; Let the wrath I deserve to feel, instead, Fuel waiting patiently. May my forested eyes be burned to ash That I may see no foe, but brother, pass.
Yesterday’s campfire doused and drenched with a hose
As the atmosphere begins to wring like a sponge–
The hissing, billowing smoke yields to the water
And I turn to leave.
But today, the wrung sponge is replaced by a faucet
And yesterday’s ash is gray and black mud–
But a hissing plume of smoke still rises in defiance
Before the embers leave.