Black pyre smoke,
drifting to the skies,
little flakes of burning wood,
and flesh and blood and lies;
Bright orange flames,
dragging themselves up,
by the skin of their nails,
dying to rise above;
Tossing and turning and swirling,
around,
burning specks of dust!
Screeching and screaming and cracking,
with sound,
bobbing about in lust!
Dancing in the warmth,
till they turn to ash;
And dissipate in the rain.
By: Viraj Belgaonkar
Beautiful images that I can say are like your trademark now. I do terribly wonder how would this poem look if it was painted! 🙂
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hmnnn if i find someone who could paint what i see… im pretty sure id be in love with such a woman.. 😀 thanks for ur words oloriel… and sorry for the late reply… been traveling last few weeks.
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