Burning Call

one year ago…..

Chimera Poetry

“I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.”  ~ Sylvia Plath

Delicate glints of gold and platinum bubble as I tilt the crystal goblet towards my lips
eyes lidded
 marking the small deathwash against the glass
as the stem captures the heat from my fingers and draws it into itself
So beautiful, this flute of sparkling poison, 
and I raise it
toasting myself 
for I crave the burning
the spreading conflagration inside.
All burnings call to me
with a hot and raging song,
out of control fire is where I want to crest. 
To be seen against the glare and rising from the smoke like a badgirl Venus,
 riding the heat as if surfing an ocean wave.
I feed like wildfire
eating everything in my path and leave behind only my initials
sweating in the steam…
My desire is for the dark
the forbidden
the dangerous
That twilight walk…

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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