There is fire in poetry
RICHARD BERENGARTEN
Still and on
May this work
move on, and on
its winding way
and these words
hold well together
and, in their time
wherever they
carry, together
hold constant
at all points
on this narrow strip
between blindness
and sight, pain
and joys, water
and water, stardust
and earthdust
void and air
fire and fire.
JOHN I. CLARKE
Here’s looking at you
Emboldened by the second glass
I am moved to make elaborate comparisons.
Your luminescence, sparkling in candlelight
and bouquet released with a gentle stir
conjuring the spirit of sun and soil,
sparking fires of desire.
Every mouthful a sensual pleasure.
But what do I know of wine?
Instead,
hailing from a county
renowned for quality sausages,
I praise your skin,
your meat to fat ratio
and the way you never
spit in the pan.
SILVIA PIO
Sunset fires the sky
Sunset fires the sky
and the firm fragment
of the day’s ending.
It bestows respite to the flurry
of the hour and our hardened story.
Amazed
we give praise to what we see.
A longing
knocks at our hearts.
Embers glow,
the last flares
are dying out.
(photo: Bruna Bonino)