by Ashley Smith
A FIRE & A FLAME
You see pictures of their orange haze
Houses, forests, all ablaze
Each one of the two, in internet fame
Appears to be exactly the same
But there will always be a difference
Between a fire and a flame
Both burn bright and both burn hot
Under control, until they’re not
Once set free, they are both hard to tame
Yet they are still not exactly the same
Do you know the difference?
Between a fire and a flame
Smoke is something a fire will bring
By definition, a fire is a burning thing
And like a flame, it can bring excruciating pain
But still the two cannot be considered the same
There is still a difference
Between a fire and a flame
In order for a fire to be made
One must start with a tiny flame
When kindled and fueled from the very start
Each component plays a vital part
But what ultimately causes a fire so great
Is the initial spark of a tiny flame
A flame is not merely a combustion spark
A flame, in fact, can come from the heart
From your heart the flame begins to grow
It takes abode inside your soul
A calling from that little spark came
Your fire of destiny lit from a tiny flame
Now when you see a fire or flame
Remember which one from the other came
Will you look at the two as exactly the same?
Will you recall these words from within your brain?
Keep within your memory the difference
Between a fire and a flame
THE TURNING DAY
The memories would torment my heart and mind
A picture could open a spillway of tears
They came no matter time or place
Uninvited, unwelcome thoughts
The wound reopened each time
I wanted nothing more, nothing less
Than to get you off my mind
But then one day the tears slowed down
When I looked at the pictures
For the first time, I noticed your smile
I remember how happy
Oh, how free that you were
With the things of this world
You could not be concerned
From that turning day forward
I began to notice more things
The memories slowly quit hurting
Now, the pictures bring joy
Reminiscing your laughter
Your love, your jokes
The pain got easier from that first turning point
When the waves come crashing
When the light becomes dim
I find sweet comfort in this
One day things will get better
The joy will come back
No matter the battle
On the turning day, hope fights back
IF EACH STITCH TOLD A STORY
Each day you hear how the old ways are dying
The traditions have run cold
Why can your own food?
Afterall, we can get it from the store
Where family farms once stood
Now subdivisions have grown
But I, for one, beg to differ
The old ways aren’t through
There’s a piece of their traditions still alive
In quilts and projects passed down to me and you
As a child I sat and watched them
Skillful hands, working swift
They sat rocking, quilting, sewing
Needle piercing through the cloth in precision
With each stitch they talked and chattered
Many stories in their presence were told
Now I often sit and ponder
All the stories those old timers did tell
What would happen if the quilts they left behind could whisper?
Or if each stitch told a story they heard
They would tell of the gardens
Planted in hope and with love
Their rows full of fall harvest promises
From their memory they would recall
All the prayers said, all the recipes shared
Each and every word they would tell
Family history and tall tales
A lifetime of work and experiences
Brought back to life and learned
If each stitch told a story they heard
Bio;
Ashley Smith is a 20-year-old Education major at Lincoln Memorial University. She has always had a love for writing, in all genres, but she has a more personal connection to poetry. All her poems connect to her personal life, in some way, and help bring her memories back to life.