Thor Ambar is a unique and gifted man that I was once very close with. The few writings of his that I have posted were orginally work that he had given me to publish on the fledging version of Poetic Ravings. Since then I have lost contact with him and at this point am unsure of his present whereabouts.
"Hands for her" by Thor Ambar
Torn, tattered and frayed
Cut, ripped and gouged
Not that of shear apperance,
But that of which has created
Strength, dependability and toughness.
These are the hands
Carrying on as once before
Doing all that becomes,
But stopping every now and then
Trying so hard to feel something soft.
Callused from tips to heal
Worked till life lost and then
Sometimes beyond that,
Working till the life life stops dripping
Though leaving the wounds open to worsen.
A soothing touch is all hoped
For the hands have no lips to ask
And no time to dream of,
So the tortured nerves only hope
For something to sooth their pains of work.
To touch the delicate lips
And the tender face of her
Creates strong hoped,
That of which are longed for
To feel the warmth of love from her
"The First Star" by Thor Ambar
The sun rises, and the sun can fall. But, when the moon comes out, that is when you can hear the wolf call. Snow can chill a hot body, the sun can warm a heart, the rain can wash away the pain, and wind can comfort a sore body. The wolf still calls to the lonely moon in the starless sky. The call of the wild is tame as can be, being called by the wolf that stands alone on the cliff of solace. The moon looks down upon the poor lonely soul, and smiles for the poor soul gets its wish, as does the moon in its starless sky. The wolf bows its head and turns to walk away. The solace cliff cracks and gives way with the wolf still upon. The moon still smiles on as the wolf joins him in th sky. The star shines bright for there is no pain here, and the moon and the wolf are no longer lonely. Together they light the sky at night, shining their light down upon all the lonely souls, letting them know that the poor couls shall not always be alone.
Untitled work by Thor Ambar
On the day the angels gather'd 'round
was the day the angels cry'd.
There 'twas that the blood was shed
the river of tears ran red.
Not a sound was made
by the woodland creatures
gather'd b'hind the angels.
Heaven and earth colide
as night doth wit' day
here 'tis the santuary of middle earth
where dreams 'n fantasies become reality.
A cool breeze from t' gentle air
arouses the deep'st desires
for t' hearts content.
Sensuality b'comes the obsession
of the writhing, aching
yearning for more.
A burning fire rage in t' heart
flames lick t' sky,
flickering the soft clouds
wit' its warm tip.
The sun is warm,
the breeze is cool,
the moon glows,
the stars sparkle,
the angels sing,
the animals cry.
The serpents bite tis a quick sting,
its venom enters the veins,
the head b'gins to spin,
confusion enters t' mind.
T' virgin apple falls to the ground,
the bite already taken
juices flowing to t' earth.
Knowledge that should not b' known
has opened blind eyes.
The rain then comes
calming the raging fires,
soothing the rigid bodies.
The angels hath flown,
the creatures hath hid,
in t' eyes, inside t' soul,
in t' hearts, love is theirs
forever through time.
"One Day!" by Thor Ambar
A burning sensation
of a fiery depths'
endless chasm,
filled by a fathomless void
of emptiness...
of lonliness.
Too far below normality
to feel the gentle sun
to know the soothing rain,
that can quench the thirst
for that which is a dream...
the only surviving hope.
Trapped behind set bars
yearning to be free
to see all it knows,
the shining sun
the glowing moon
those of feeling and emotions.
Here's the heart of flame
set ablaze for too long
with its candle of life,
torched in the middle
melting with each passing moment
lit with the flame on both ends.
Within a single word
of emotions alive
spoken with love,
that which is barely known
in the heart's passing
through its days of despair.
Only then can this word
of gentle kindness
with true meaning,
give a desired mist
to calm the savage fires
and bring what once might have been
to a brand new life.
The silhouette of beauty.
The face of purity.
The eyes of wonder,
filled with understanding
joyously containing life
sought by the pit's heart.
The sight removes the pain
as the name calms the soul
with that soothing voice,
cherished by every moment
like a symphony's song
playing the gentle notes.
Hence forth the word be spoken
wil the flames be doused
by the cleansing rain,
longed after for so long
to relieve the pains
the suffering of the pit.
Then, and only then,
will the burning pit fill
raising the heart to the surface,
that which was only dreamed about
cherished by memories
that are haunting in the night.
This day will once come
as they are numbered
and it will pass,
but it shall never be forgotten
for all that never be forgotten
for all that it has done
will be a memory in the present
of the happiness that will live on.
