Burn, Baby, Burn
For The Vocal "The Last Flame" Challenge
Introduction
That's it, all the current Vocal Challenges have been entered now, this is the place where I burn them all. I got a Top Story for one of my entries, thanks to a recommendation by Caitlin Charlton, so this has been a successful set of Vocal Challenges for me.
The music is "Burn, Baby, Burn" by Ash
This is also a piece of plagiaristic poetry because it steals the title of every current Vocal Challenge to create a Ghazal.
The Challenges are here:
Burn, Baby, Burn
π₯π₯π₯β‘π₯β‘π₯π₯π₯
The Sonnet Of Shadows Crashes And Burns
A Knock At The Door, As The Building Burns
β‘π₯β‘
Masks We Wear So We Can Breathe In The Smoke
The Lantern Light Glowing, The Candle Burns
β‘π₯β‘
Parallel Lives, Another Universe
Haunted Echoes As The Accused Witch Burns
β‘π₯β‘
Poetry Of The Hunt, The Tables Turn
Through The Keyhole, See Flames As The Fire Burns
β‘π₯β‘
Letters To The Moon, Her Silver Beauty
The Sound Of The First Frost, The Ice That Burns
β‘π₯β‘
Maps Of The Self, Corridors Of The Mind
Falling Leaves, Colour Of the Flame That Burns
β‘π₯β‘
Harvest Of Memory, Wilderness Thoughts
The Forgotten Room, The Last Ember Burns
β‘π₯β‘
Villanelle Of Regret, But I Have None
Roots And Branches Stand, As The Forest Burns
β‘π₯β‘
The Ritual Of Winter, Frosted Ground
The Last Flame, Watching As This Ghazal Burns
β‘π₯β‘
These Challenges Are Finished, Burned In Flame
Words On The Fiery Bonfire That Now Burns
π₯π₯π₯β‘π₯β‘π₯π₯π₯
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More stories from Mike Singleton π Mikeydred and writers in Poets and other communities.
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing himβno, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying wonβt change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didnβt break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaabout 11 hours ago in Poets
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
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Comments (4)
Good effort getting into all the challenges and a nice take on this challenge. Good job, Mike.
LOVE THIS! Twists and turns!
This is a very clever and fun twist on the challenge. Itβs quite impressive that you were able to fit all the challenge titles into your poem, including this one. Nice job, and good luck on all the challenges (I still canβt believe you entered them all).
What a creative way to get others to read your work, and I believe I have read them all. I hope you win at least one of them or more. Congratulations on such a feat in writing.