Blazes

[ThePoet]

Extinguished. Exhausted. Convincingly scorched.

All that remains is a wisp of the warmth.

The floor and the frames, the metal and mantle.

The ash of the door and what's left of the handle.

Cinders. Curled-in paint chips. Chimney.

Walls charred, charcoal support beams flimsy.

Flame-kissed kindling faded to embers.

Echos of blazes from centre to edges.

Endless, the soot underfoot. The rubble.

The rubbish. The rent of the memories scuttled.

The half-burnt table, the waste of the chairs.

The taste of the razing ingrained in the air.

The smoky aroma. The smut and the smudge.

The film of a kiln dust crusting your tongue.

The bones of a home being blown by a breeze.

The pieces of dreams lying prone. The peace.

[ProfessorDaddy]

Reminds me of beat poetry. Stream of thought, no meter and very little rhyme (but some alliteration). Poetry is more expression than form, anyway.

Good stuff. Really. Keep at it.

[ThePoet]

Thanks for the encouragement. I've been writing poetry since I was a child, so I certainly intend to keep at it it's who I am.

 

I'm not a huge fan of beat poetry, however. I disagree with your statement that poetry is more expression than form. The art of delivering a message within the confines of a meter and a rhyme structure is the majesty of poesy. That's why almost all of my work is written to a meter (often tetrameter; in this case, it moves between iambic and dactylic) and busy with as much rhyme - perfect, slant, internal - and assonance/consonance as possible with detracting from the intent. Without rhyme and flow, you're just writing words for the sake of it. There's no skill in that. The perfect balance between expression and form, intent and structure: that is the goal of true poesy... but I could talk about this ALL day.

Edited March 6, 2018 by MrEver