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Poems by Smoldering Wick
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smoldering wick
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Post: #76
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick © 2005

Blind Date

May all your days be filled with joy,
And evenings filled with fun,
Except this weekend when you have
That blind date with someone
You think might be the guy for you
That your friends seem to see
Is so much more a better catch
Than I could ever be;
So do not think that I will wish
Your evening will go well,
In fact, if I just had a wand,
I’d cast a magic spell,
And make him ugly as a horse,
And waddle like a duck,
And talk about himself all night,
And make your evening suck.:whistle:


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
05-18-2010 02:09 AM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #77
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick

Love So Blind

There was a man, I knew him well, he was a man secure,
He was a man so full of trust, but now I’m not so sure.
He once told me that he believed in a time when all was true,
That he could mend a shattered heart, a thing just fools will do.

He was so full of certainty, more so was he than me,
And in the land of simpleness, he made his desperate plea:
“I need a place to laugh and cry, I need no truth to fear,
I want to think and pray and try to make pain disappear.”

“For I have always thought that I could mend the stricken heart,
Within this horrid world of lies, too painful to impart
A wisdom true of things I knew to be so very smart;”
Instead I fear he came too near, it tore him all apart.

So desperate is the plea for love through endless seas of strife,
For all who may have lost their way will often end their life,
And who was she to think that he could cure this dreaded thing,
But came the curse to make it worse, it was a painful sting.

He thought he fell in love the day, she made it all so clear,
It gave him so much confidence and he became too dear,
Until he saw beyond her tear the broken picture frame,
Of other men with tales of woe, and all her wretched pain.

But merry was her heart to him, intoxicating wine,
So innocent to him she was, though deathly serpentine,
She had the voice of but a girl but it was a disguise,
Of something far more like a ruse that even she despised;

It was a day that when it rained, the leaves fell from all trees,
A harsh storm swept into his heart and sorrow was its breeze;
It was a wave a rogue from seas that were so strange and wild,
A beast of prey it was to him as though he were a child,
And swooped upon him suddenly, it uttered no alarm,
And failed he did to contemplate that she could bring him harm.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
09-28-2010 04:21 AM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #78
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick © 2005

Crippled Children

They have no concept who they are,
They are but rising mist,
Like in the dawn drifts from a lake,
No artist can resist;

Deep shadow is their covering,
The other side is bright,
But therein burns antitheses
Of paralyzing light;

For on them rests a garment strong
Of all they’ll not subdue,
And it will fit so very wrong,
And never is it true;

For what they wear will not appease
What fans all idolize,
The fame and fortune just to tease
All things that they despise;

For deep within their heart exists
The shadowlands of hate,
From where the morning dew of time
Doth rise on them too late.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
09-29-2010 04:22 AM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #79
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick © 2008

Wise I Was

Once I had gained enlightenment,
But that was long ago,
When earth was sweet with fragrant winds,
And all my words would flow;

And wandered they through meadowlands,
Where dandelions blow,
When I despised the truly wise,
And all I did not know,

Until too late in autumntime,
Before the winter snow,
A simple song said I was wrong,
In just its afterglow—

For seeds were planted in the night
By birds that did not sow,
What prophets say just words delay
Their knowledge planted low;

For wisdom is not for the minds
Of those who fear to grow,
For it had flown on winter winds,
So very long ago.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
09-29-2010 06:02 PM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #80
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick

Upon the Piazza Roof

Upon its terra-cotta roof one day,
He climbed up there to see,
As end of day grew fiery red,
So iridescently,
Emblazoned so, its pillars glow
Along the promenade,
Like forest shade, its columns tall,
Are molten metals made,
Reflecting from a giant sun
Descending to the sea,
While sending up its final call
From whence the night shall flee.

While steep are roads of cobblestone
That wind beneath the glade
Of boulevards of green and stone,
Where lonely hearts have strayed
To travel far to distant lands
Of fear and reverie
And all the while nostalgic is
His heart in memory;

For he had traveled from abroad
A dream he came to chase,
And sat with patrons of the gods
In a bistro’s lonely place,
And caught the eyes of passers-by,
With sunshine on his face;

But ne’er too long her idle stance
Brought all their eyes to stare,
Upon her silhouette by chance,
Above the market square
Yet he was last to see the wind
Lace through her flowing hair,
And just her breath blew past his brow
To captivate a dare;

And there he lingered unaware
Of eyes that fixed on him,
For quiet were the voices now
That whispered just a whim
While in his heart a spirit wrote
A song meant to ensnare
The purity of hearts unsure
And motives au contraire;

Their voices came so very faint,
Beneath the awning light,
“O make your move with words so smooth,”
And pour us wine tonight;”
His frantic mind raced to incline
His desp’rate heart to care,
But then he drank more of his wine,
To dampen its despair;

With lonely eyes he met her smile,
But cowered to her gaze,
His heart told lies to compromise,
His mind lost in a maze
Of broken dreams and all that seems,
That some might call a phase
Of life ignored yet he knew more
Than they in former days;

O had he known by what came stealth,
To breach the trust he wrought,
When in her arms he found himself,
So painful came the thought,
He could not look into her eyes,
With tender words to say
The love he felt was full of lies
His heart he would betray
For only he would know he left
His true love far away;

So, deep within there grew a storm
That plunged to oceans floor,
It crashed its giant, voiceless waves
Upon the distant shore,
Which spoke the words of parting love
And made his sick heart swell,
Like airships floating memories
Of one last sad farewell;

And while his eyes gazed to the sea,
The piazza down below,
Told of a time there was no rhyme
Or reason to bestow
A love so strong it should belong
To another destiny
That there was still a greater will
He yearned would never be;

For who gets caught within this net
That lies in open sea,
Where only fools swim to regret,
Then vainly seek to flee?
For there is nothing left to seek
In bold fidelity,
For when it’s gone they’ll sing the song,
Of seabirds plaintively,
Who had a home but now they roam,
And so capriciously.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
10-02-2010 05:05 AM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #81
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick © 2005

A Fond Farewell

They saw this day from far away,
They knew it was goodbye,
And as they crossed that bridge of tears,
Where memories fade and die,
And there they pledged a promise true
A phoenix born to fly,
Though none could even see that day,
From on the mountain high;

For children grow from spring and bloom,
Through endless summertime,
And dream to be forever young,
While mists of Autumn climb,
To draw forth changes in the soul,
And visions more sublime,
While there remains still incomplete
A friendship lost in time;”

"Yes, I will be your friend for life,
In me you can confide,"
So said her heart in purity
With mem'ry locked inside,
Yet seasons change and winds renew
A vision's rising tide,
That takes its trek within the night,
Where horsemen make their ride;

So cross the bridge, with courage stand,
And hold each other tight,
Though many oaths are sworn in youth,
Their words are seldom right,
For all the heart does ache for love,
Its eyes can never tell,
Just when to say that sweet bouquet
Of such a fond farewell.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
10-05-2010 05:04 AM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #82
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick

Tender Words

It does not matter what you say
It matters how you say it;
It’s not so much the word you use
But what tone you convey it.

“Come here!” you had so harshly said,
The child withdrew and wept.
“Come here,” you coaxed, he looked and smiled,
Into your lap he crept.

Words can be fair like summer air
Or stab just like a sword;
When they who use them think they care,
But strike a sour cord.

Thus words conceived within the mind,
And ripened in the heart,
Are born to us and should remind,
That speaking is an art,

That summons hate or does restate,
The feelings that we care,
Yet none can differentiate
These words that we might share,

If only words were in debate
Tho’ thought not to impair
By anger, envy, greed and hate,
A joy beyond compare.

True, many quarrels we’ll avoid,
If good words be our choice,
But all their good can be destroyed,
By feelings in our voice.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
10-06-2010 03:32 AM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #83
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick © 2005

Heart Salve

There was a time I read and read,
For knowledge in my head,
For deep within I did not know
That part of me was dead,
And all because there was so much
Of pain within my heart,
I locked away my tenderness,
Within a vault instead;

Until you came to be the sound
Of rushing rivers end,
And came to flee my torrents rage,
Where waterfalls descend,
Cascading loathsome mountainsides
To valleys full of blight,
Where knowledge finds that wicked path,
And good and evil blend;

O God forgive my wickedness,
And all my evil pride,
And let all grace and rectitude,
Within my heart reside,
For all the wisdom of the world,
Can never heal the heart
That somehow lost that simple salve
For all its wounds inside.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
02-11-2011 11:33 PM
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smoldering wick
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Post: #84
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick © 2008

Children of Error

We're children of a twisted past,
Our love did not evolve,
Too loathsome were our crippled lusts
For mercy to absolve,
Too absent was morality
Within our heart's resolve,
For many are the missing links
Within this maze to solve,
While all the pieces of our lives
Of rectitude devolve.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
02-11-2011 11:37 PM
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smoldering wick
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Posts: 2,055
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Post: #85
RE: Poems by Smoldering Wick © 2005

Indian Summer

Who might know the afterglow descending autumn skies,
Where shimmers haze of hills ablaze, a harvest enterprise?
And who has seen the meadowlands,
Aflame with crimson gold?
And all the coloured birds that swoop
To falling streams of cold,
While dripping moss beneath the boughs, where shady creatures run
To find the heavy dew that clings and glistens in the sun,
And deeper do the shadows creep up hills on lazy trails,
While many are the autumn songs of coming winter tales
Of forests chilled with birds that still
Flit ‘mong ferns glowing bright,
While vespers peer and disappear
In sunset’s fading light,
And loons will sing their haunting call
Through smoke out on the lake,
And spread their wings to journey forth
An evening flight to take,
While lingers there without a care
This summer in reprieve.


"What cannot be understood is no object of belief.” Isaac Newton.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false face for the urge to rule it.” H. L. Mencken
02-12-2011 04:40 AM
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