Salvaged
New Member
Debut poem, without excuse or appology:
Appeal of the Flame
Cross the threshold
With grace like no other,
She dances whirlpools
Of green-cool paradise.
Suddenly.
Threadbare.
Ideals held so high-
Hurtling,
Outward…
Away...
My tender nectar!
O fruit divine;
Now scarred with
Razor-marks,
And Bitterness.
Tenderly tip-toeing
Through the tumult,
Trying to transfuse
My blood, gradually showing..
Eyes caught ablaze,
With passion abound;
The other pasture’s flowers
Trampled to the ground.
After pursuing her
With all my ardor,
All I can do now
Is try that much harder.
Appeal of the Flame
Cross the threshold
With grace like no other,
She dances whirlpools
Of green-cool paradise.
Suddenly.
Threadbare.
Ideals held so high-
Hurtling,
Outward…
Away...
My tender nectar!
O fruit divine;
Now scarred with
Razor-marks,
And Bitterness.
Tenderly tip-toeing
Through the tumult,
Trying to transfuse
My blood, gradually showing..
Eyes caught ablaze,
With passion abound;
The other pasture’s flowers
Trampled to the ground.
After pursuing her
With all my ardor,
All I can do now
Is try that much harder.