HEART OF THE FLAME
I am the heart of the flame,
Cackling with glee
To heat and fire I say stay,
To chill and ice, be gone
I am a blazing inferno
Burning the old forests,
Letting the new trees grow,
Bringing in new life
I can be controlled by none,
And contained in no cage
You may try to escape into water,
But you must eventually come onto land
I am chaos at its core
Following my own rules and nothing else
From a dying spark,
To a white hot supernova
I do what I please, not what pleases others
Doing what I need to survive
I stay, and I move on
there are those that love me,
And those that hate me,
For I am the heart of the flame
THE FIGHTER
I am the fighter, the warrior, the survivor. Did you know that I am the one who fights for all your quarrels?
I am the general, the master, the king, taking charge of the troops.
I am the trooper that fights to the death. Fire and storm come from me. They die, and I send more until my purpose is fulfilled.
I am the eye of the storm. I am the battle field that will bear blood. Terrible storms form around me. I forget. Battles tear my life apart. I forget. I welcome death. Bringing forth all of my innermost emotions. And I forget.
Sometimes I growl and fall short of myself. Then, I forget. When I, the fighter, accept the lessons of today, without forgetting the battles of last year, and those who fought against me, then there will be no speaker in the world who will say “The fighters,” with any fleck of a sneer in his voice, or a far off smile of derision. The fighter, the warrior, the survivor, will arrive then.
- Spencer Grath Willits
Spencer, thank you so much for allowing me to share your work with "Books in Northport" readers! We love you TONS!
2 comments:
This just in from Spencer's mom, who couldn't get her comment to post:
"Okay, late-breaking caveat here: it seems I misunderstood the assignment. It was to take two existing poems and alter as many of the words and metaphors while still keeping the basis of the original poem – to learn how different types of poems are structured. Not entirely sure I get that, but at any rate, it’s a mixed bag as far as the poem of origin and the altered versions of Spencer’s. Pamela, could you post something to that effect in the comment section of your blog? I seem to be unable to get a comment to post, and I'd hate to misrepresent the work."
Bravo, Spencer -- whatever the assignment!
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