The Flame Poem by Ivy Beam
The Flame
A burned girl; she has no face,
no one spot to call a place.
She sits all day
to stare at the rain.
She'll toil and toil to
the soundless sound,
her deepest fears already abound.
With crutching DESIRE,
she longs to CONSPIRE
a work of FIRE
-and brimstone.
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 7:17:19 PM # 1.0.0.1119
its indeed a nice poem