Sunday, 3 January 2016

Fire Twirling to the Sounds of the Rebel Horde

This poem is born from my deep love of the fire twirling art and the love of fire in all of us. As an art I learnt from a very young age at a festival called Confest, the feeling of its spiral through my body has guided my thought, life and poetry ever since. And so inspired amidst its idiom, I find this poem parallel to what W.B. Yeats said in his lines from Sailing To Byzantium;

O sages standing in God's holy fire
as in gold mosaic of a wall,
come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
and be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
and fastened to a dying animal
it knows not what it is; and gather me 
into the artifice of eternity.   

My special thanks to;
funktifino69's channel,
Fringe Theatre ETRE,
Pheonix of Avatars,
Nighthawk Light,
and the
Ugnies Sokis Fire Collective
for the clips!!

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