Tercet (triplets)
Our Eternal flame
Is not fire a gift of light?
A symbol of life,
A haven at night?
Yes, when hearts were still pure,
And love was but all
For man to endure.
Then what of that flame?
It blackens his skin,
While its warping his frame.
And that grin is not glory,
It's tearing his face.
Screaming his story.
That man is on fire - he's burning to death!
And you and I own
The curse on his breath.
© Andipean
This poem written after seeing a horrific photo at an exhibition of a man, still alive, but burning to death after having poured gasoline all over himself. The flames created a death mask with his lips peeled back from his teeth in a goulish "smile" and he was reaching out to the camera man - who could only bring himself to take a photo - nothing more,
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Death & Delight
PoesiaThis “Death and Delight” collection for The Atty’s 2012 is an extract from my other two compilations published simultaneously on Wattpad, under the titles “Decades of Death” and “Decades of Delight”. (Feel free to peruse them in the Poetry section...
