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Fire and Rain: A Poem by Comment

By Glynn Young 10 Comments

I first saw this done at nAncy’s blog, Just Say the Word. She started a poem, and allowed and encouraged visitors to add to it via comments. The result was delightful, with all kinds of people adding all kinds of lines. So I thought, why not do the same here at TweetSpeak Poetry? But with a slight twist.

And the twist is – make your contribution like a tweet on Twitter – 140 characters at a time. You can add as many comments as you like, but keep each to tweet-length (in keeping with the purpose of Tweetspeak Poetry – to provide a place for poems produced via Twitter). I’ll take each comment and add it to the body of the main poem.

We’re starting this morning, Monday Dec. 21, and we’ll conclude on Wednesday morning, Dec. 23. What follows is the starting theme or idea – fire and rain – with the first “tweet-like” lines.

So welcome to our “Poem by Comment.”

Fire and Rain

The bush consumed by fire,
yet not; the sands singed
by heat, yet sanctified by
flames, becoming
too holy to be trod upon as the rain begins.

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Glynn Young
Glynn Young
Editor and Twitter-Party-Cool-Poem-Weaver at Tweetspeak Poetry
Glynn Young lives in St. Louis where he retired as the team leader for Online Strategy & Communications for a Fortune 500 company. Glynn writes poetry, short stories and fiction, and he loves to bike. He is the author of the Civil War romance Brookhaven, as well as Poetry at Work and the Dancing Priest Series. Find Glynn at Faith, Fiction, Friends.
Glynn Young
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Filed Under: poetry, Twitter poetry

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Comments

  1. Glynn Young says

    December 21, 2009 at 1:55 pm

    4 tweeted contributions from @ doallas:

    Rain begins:
    Drops as rivulets marked by hope-steps.
    each leading to the bush
    consumed yet not
    becoming yet not
    the path He trod before us.

    We have stepped into
    the intersection of fire
    and rain
    of yet-to-be Passion
    the path to Light
    deep
    as black of night,
    steps to take unsure.

    Gray slush-mix
    of want and not,
    of looking not finding,
    of seeing but missing
    the one true place
    of protection
    from the elements.

    Each drop of rain
    each speck in the eye
    unseeing,
    the flames
    what they consume,
    the secrets buried in the bush
    in the sand pulling us in.

    Reply
  2. nAncY says

    December 21, 2009 at 2:52 pm

    as we are called
    and make bare our feet
    our faces we cover
    from sight of glory

    Reply
  3. @bibledude says

    December 21, 2009 at 3:28 pm

    standing drenched by rain
    waiting, wanting, shivering
    praying for the warmth
    of the crackling fire
    that seems so far away

    Reply
  4. Russell Holloway says

    December 21, 2009 at 4:12 pm

    to stand
    to make ready
    move forward
    shoulder to shoulder

    Reply
  5. Lorrie says

    December 21, 2009 at 4:17 pm

    yet our lips dare
    part to speak
    from stammering
    hearts unworthy

    Reply
  6. Anne Lang Bundy says

    December 21, 2009 at 5:45 pm

    What magic this
    From You, my Lord
    That in my heart burns
    Passion for Your Word

    It fills me, drives me
    It makes me new
    Til it can’t be contained
    From me spills out You

    And in the pouring out
    Of what burned bright
    It becomes living Water
    Cool fresh and Light

    Reply
  7. L.L. Barkat says

    December 21, 2009 at 6:05 pm

    flames lick, stick
    to skin, breathe black
    smoke of secret long held,
    yes, buried, as we said before,
    invoking time’s goodbye,
    dust in ashes will yet
    find…

    Reply
  8. Maureen Doallas says

    December 21, 2009 at 7:20 pm

    precious store:
    Word on stone

    stone-writing
    the long pilgrimage
    in bare feet

    how rain cleansed
    drops hit lips
    skin breathed
    awake its
    secret

    Reply
  9. Doug Spurling says

    December 21, 2009 at 9:32 pm

    Throw down the rod.
    The secret burning revealed.

    No, my Lord.
    Your fire does not consume
    the bush but burns my heart.

    I have found myself in this staff,
    I c,c,can’t return.
    I ‘m only a lowly shepherd,
    this is my rod, this is my place.

    Please send s,s,someone else, not me.

    I have heard the cries of My people
    Their tears have fallen like rain,
    I will be with you
    Now go.

    Reply
  10. Maureen Doallas says

    December 21, 2009 at 9:37 pm

    Such secret
    as resides in me:

    from dust
    am I become

    of You
    am I
    in image
    seen

    of Word
    I see
    in flames

    if words
    be consumed

    as flames,
    Passion

    Reply

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