Fume and fragrance in
Fiery minuscule of ember
Flaming life of ignited- stick
Crossing over line of fire
Ceases in smoky ashes;
Lungful air of human gasp is also
A burning journey of torrid zones
In your ups and downs, you odor
The aroma of phantom smell
In the altar of deserting soul
Corporal sleeves combust to
Grime of ashes in sacred urns
VIGIL KUMAR 
How quickly the ife of incense- stick burns…well stated in your poem.
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Bravo!
Enjoyed poem as much as I don’t enjoy cigarette smoke.
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i loved this poem line of fire.. esp when i about to complete my 1 yr quit smokin milestone.. reminds me of all the times n moments it actually made me struggle with the inner demon..
p.s.s really nice blog 🙂
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Reblogged this on vigilkumar.
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Alter of souls . , powerful thought.Excellent poem.Jalal
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Intense.
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You have caught me in your line of fire… superb
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Hi Vigil. Nice. Thank you for liking my poem ‘Lethal arrest’. The Foureyed Poet.
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My grandfather continues to smoke at the age of 82 and I can’t wait to show him this.
Truly magnificent expression here.
Really liking the posts you have and as a fellow poet, I can say – i am envious!
Hope in time I can receive a follow from a lovely writer such as yourself (:
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Thanks a lot!
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