I am so pleased to announce that I have my first WINNER of the “Riddle Me This” Contest!!!
My Congratulations go to:
Jason Cook from Phx, AZ
Many thanks Mr. Cook for participating in the contest! I will be shipping your signed copy of “Tapestry” asap!
It’s not too late to try your luck at guessing what the poem is about! I still have two e-book copies of “Tapestry” to give away!
“Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.”
– Edgar Allan Poe
“Poetry is a sensual assault on your senses.”
– Solitaire Parke
There is a rhythmic cadence to poetry that no other form of writing can equal. It is the only known method to transfer a person’s thoughts and feelings at the emotional level without sacrificing their intellect. Poetry sets up a flow that can be as lazy as a Summer’s day or as torrid as a raging River. It allows you to play with your vocabulary for an emotional outcome as dense as armor or as filmy as gauze. It penetrates the heart and can cause tears to cleanse the soul.
The rhyme scheme does not matter, only the fervor that you place within it. Gentle and damaging, it speaks to us all. Simple as breathing or as a riddle that can vex you to the core. That being said…Riddle Me This…
Here is a poem, veiled as a riddle and a mystery. The first person to guess its meaning and leave the answer as a comment will win a signed copy of my new Poetry book “Tapestry”! Two copies of “Tapestry” in ebook will also be up for grabs!
THE ENDLESS FLAME
by Solitaire Parke
A ring of fire with the strength of four.
The mist is rising and calls for more
Than scorched remains it holds below.
But summons from the heat it sows
Aromas from the flesh it sears
And stings the eyes with stubborn tears.
A frozen wasteland in darkened white.
Day breaks without heat as its wall ignite
In a crystalline layer of myriad glass.
This snow bank’s eternal and time cannot pass.
Yet moved from the haven above time and space,
It warms in the sunlight – immortality erased.
Lush and tropic, it rains on cue.
The heat is stifling as waves pour through
This forest of afterthoughts we’ve left behind.
A sea of sensations that no one will find.
Then like parchment it dries in the hot summer air
As the cycle repeats itself year after year.