Chariots Of Fire

Ricky HawthorneFebruary 13, 2019

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Rate this micropoetry

Sending

User Review

5 (3 votes)

Chariots Of Fire

written by: Ricky Hawthorne

@searsjames

Incontrovertible the reason that I cling to oh so dear
Driving in concentric lines, these stallions of fear
Harnessed to great chariots, they drag all into night
Once chariots of fire, now whispers of that light

About
Latest Posts

Ricky Hawthorne

MAY 2019 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com

Short listed for the Bridport Poetry Prize 2015

Graduate of Warwick University
Triple honors in Literature, Theater and Film

Latest posts by Ricky Hawthorne (see all)

Blankets - April 7, 2020
Tsunami - March 3, 2020
Nought Point Nought Eight Percent - January 27, 2020

Ger White

Gerardine White (mostly called Ger) grew up in wild open country of West Limerick, Ireland. Her country life is represented in her poems and has a strong bearing on her core values and education. She inherited the skill of poetic rhyme from both of her parents and her Grandad – who were all fine poets and storytellers. Her education took place mostly in South West Ireland and the rest of it is gleaned from travel, from life, and from being an avid reader of all kinds of books. In recent years she has returned to poetry writing. This past year seeing her published in four Anthologies from Clarendon House Publications. She sees herself as a Spiritual person, very connected with life in all forms. She is happily married for past 20 years and currently lives in Sussex, UK. She enjoys healthy pursuits of country walks with a nice cuppa tea and chat at the end.

Resurrection by Suzanne Craig-Whytock

On the day that Budgie died, I was young and very sad. He was a pretty bird, always singing in his cage. Sometimes we let him out to fly around, and on that day, the curtains were wide open and he slammed into the glass hard. Momma put him into a shoe box and I cried as we buried him in the back garden among the lilies. The next morning, very early, I snuck out of the house and dug him up with a garden trowel because I wanted to see him one more time. When I took the lid off the shoe box, his eyes were open and his wings fluttered ...