POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS, a site established in May 2011 and which reunites Marie Elena Good and Walter J Wojtanik to help nurture and inspire the poetic spirit.

DAY 13 – AUTUMNAL P.A.D. CHAPBOOK EXERCISE: CANDLES

It is said, “It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.” And that one candle can light the world, just as a poem about a candle can light our world and inspire others. Write about a candle and light up your muse!


 

MARIE’S BEACON:

One flickering flame
in the window glows, bestows
the best kind of warmth.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

##

WALT’S WARM GLOW:

OUT OF THE DARKNESS

Somewhere in darkness, hearts at rest find each other all alone at night.
Hearts that yearn for love become the vessels we sail to land on love’s shore.
Discoveries made invade like a conqueror, surrender your self.
Fear does not prevail for it has been hidden, lost and quite forbidden.
New sensations come filling your soul with wonder, under true love’s spell.
Tell her she brings light to supplant all this darkness; her candle burns bright.
It is that dark night that brings her brilliance to bear. She is your warm sun.
You embrace her there, filling her with heartfelt joy. You are her bright moon!
The brightness will fade. Life’s serenade soon will end. Sing life’s love song now!

© Walter J. Wojtanik, 2018

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156 thoughts on “DAY 13 – AUTUMNAL P.A.D. CHAPBOOK EXERCISE: CANDLES

  1. Some Candles Never Get Lit

    I feel an urge
    to light a candle, for my mum.
    A scented one. But that’s not allowed
    at The Oaks Residential Care Home,

    and my sister says,
    the oldies forget that they’ve lit
    the damned things;
    they catch curtains and carpets alight.

    And I don’t mention that age-wise
    I’m qualified to live here, and
    by the way and I’ve never forgotten
    that I’ve lit anything, let alone
    ever incinerated anything.

    Well, toast maybe.

    And she asks, Ya wanna go to church?
    I reconsider, and
    suggest Starbucks instead.

     
     

    for PB’s Chapbook Exercise: Candles (this is a draft)

  2. Marie…simple and yet so profound! Walt…awesome reminder! Love the sun and moon imagery. Thank you both for starting us all off with such beautiful inspiration. Your muses are shining bright!!

  3. MORNING’S TAPER

    Grandmother Moon sits atop the pine, just outside my window.
    The morning hour is too early for the garish sun,
    that still slumbers behind the mountain.
    The light from Grandmother is a glowing candle –
    Luna light flicking from a timber taper –
    illuminating the wee hours – valiantly shining to her last ember –
    waking any souls daring to sleep on such a morn.

  4. The candle is good inspiration. I started writing and will have to finish it later. Misky and Linda, good starts for the day.

  5.  
     
    BURN NOT THY FINGERS

             “Burn not thy fingers to snuff another man’s candle.” ~ James Howell

    What purpose does it serve to extinguish another man’s flame?
    Why would you deny another woman’s light?
    When the world needs the brilliance of many, how could any candle
    be allowed to go silent? A dark mind will find nothing but violence
    and a desire to burn uncontrolled to destroy all in its path.
    No bold declaration of one’s own self
    can provide the conflagration that many a candle
    can offer. One candle will augment all other candles
    when used to ignite their glow. A single match
    can light a multitude of candles. Know there is truth in light.
    Know that it is darkness that lies.

  6. For a Simple Guy, One Small Thing

    Not for me, the grand concepts.
    I mean, I know that poverty
    is cyclical or situational,
    but that guy on the corner?
    He just wants a sandwich,
    maybe a beer.

    Not for me, the great concerns.
    I mean, I know that orphans exist,
    and child care’s too costly,
    but that girl on the swing?
    She just needs a push,
    maybe a hug.

    Not for me, the larger issues.
    I mean, I know the snowcap is melting,
    but insomnia won’t help.
    All I can do is turn off some lamps,
    light one little candle, and hope others do too,
    that the sum of the candles will light up the globe,
    maybe my life.

  7. MEG, happy birthday! And thanks for so beautifully using the word “bestows”.

  8. Pingback: BE THE BEACON, BRIGHT – THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART

  9. Playing catch-up. As you’ll see, working without inspiration breeds clunkers.

    Candle

    A candle burns brightly, not for too long.
    Ask the true north star: how long is too long?

    We paddled with a candle on our bow.
    Romance will not stand for a canoe long.

    The Empress of Autumn holds a candle,
    and dies when it dies. She doesn’t rule long.

    Once I made a candle, from paraffin
    and beeswax, marbles, kite string, and oolong.

    Bring your pumpkin mess inside. If you carve
    outdoors, it’s too cold to hold a tool long.

    I have an electric thing that sheds pink
    salt, but in it’s glow Quickly’s not blue long.

  10. Walt, the flame is but for a while, the wick shorter by the minute. Your poem lights up the best response.
    Marie, as you say, seeing the light is feeling it as well.
    Lovely blooms from both of you.

  11. Pingback: BURN NOT THY FINGERS – THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART

  12. BE THE BEACON, BRIGHT

    There are two ways of spreading light:
    to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” ~Edith Wharton

    We are surrounded by the brilliance of others
    who shine their light unto the world.
    They become the candle that illuminates our darkness,
    the glow of humanity in the flicker of flame.
    We warm our hands on their fire,
    we warm our hearts on their glow.
    We know that by adding our light, we allow theirs
    to burn more bright in the cold, dark night.
    We can choose to be a reflection of their light,
    or we can be the beacon of the right light.
    A bright light so shared.

  13. For the Love of the Imperfect

    It usually starts with the biggest pumpkin
    The perfect one that stands up straight
    And has a nice rounded shape and the
    Perfect area for carving a grinning face
    But we were late and the pumpkins left
    Behind all listed to one side or had unearthly
    Humps and bumps – a carvers nightmare
    We were drawn to the large one with no
    Redeeming qualities, just a sort of presence –
    Self-confidence, if that is even possible
    The lid was cut, the insides scooped, and
    A jagged, crooked face took shape.
    On Halloween night, before the ghosts
    And ghouls appeared with bags extended
    We lit the candle inside our orange creation
    He grinned a lopsided grin and all the
    Trick-or-Treaters squealed with delight
    And on a street where every house
    Had a perfect jolly Jack-O-Lantern on its porch
    Ours was the one children loved the most

  14. TO ALLAY THE DARKNESS

    When the weather turns cold
    and the sunshine is rare
    my mood goes to a place
    I’d rather avoid.

    My joyfullness leaves me,
    my energy plummets.
    I find myself fading
    into a dark void.

    Although I prepare to
    deal with this challenge,
    it seems that I still feel
    anxious and annoyed.

    I have but one tactic
    that seems to uplift me,
    When candles are burning
    darkness is destroyed.

    The little flames flicker
    distracting my sadness.
    Somehow with that brightness
    my spirit is buoyed.

    With blackness disspelled,
    a small spark engages.
    I can now cope with winter.
    Life can be enjoyed.

  15. Connie Peters on said:

    Autumn Birthdays

    Birthdays in autumn meant,
    for most of them,
    I went to school
    staring out the window,
    watching leaves fall
    wishing for the final bell,
    bus home, eat supper,
    and have angel food cake
    with candles all around
    like kids playing ring-
    around-the-rosy at recess,
    and then open presents,
    play with whatever toy I got
    till bedtime, then school again.

  16. Earl J Parsons on said:

    Eternal Flame

    The Light has shined
    Since the dawn of time
    The darkness cannot hide it
    His candles burn
    In all who turn
    To Him who in us lights it

    This is the same
    Eternal flame
    Sent down from God above
    It lights our way
    Both night and day
    And shines the light of love

  17. Marjory Thompson on said:

    .(using a bit of “artist liberty’ 🙂
    .
    .
    Sheltered
    by tight
    stand of pines,

    lone
    maple clutches
    bright fall foliage

    and
    shines like
    a candle beacon

    waiting
    obscureness under
    winter’s white uniform.

  18. Marjory Thompson on said:

    Walt and Marie – I love candle light and especially enjoy your writings today. Well done. ….keep the lights burning.

  19. Warmth

    illuminated
    waxy hues, warm and scented
    tree built of candles

  20. (short, late, but still done before sunrise next day. Sorry so few comments, long day Friday)

    Candle in a Window

    With molecules of paraffin
    a thousand strong
    wafting from my wick, spreading wide
    invisible gasses dancing from my flame,
    hot, yellow, orange, blue upon my head,
    I heat, I light this subtle sense of darkening
    while colors fly outside the sill I sit upon.

    I feel mighty,
    I feel small but mighty
    In the fall.

    © Damon Dean

  21. Pingback: UNTITLED | pictured words

  22. I am just one candle.
    What good can I do?

    How can my small shine brighten
    darkness of another’s night?
    How can my little flicker ignite
    another’s candle light?

    I am just one candle.
    What good can I do?

    How can my faltering flame heat
    another heart ‘s cold beat?
    How can my glow unseat,
    send fear into retreat?

    I am just one candle.
    What good can I do?

    And with that I confess writing poetry is beyond my capabilities. 🙂 You all amaze me with your creativity and depth.

  23. A Coat to Walk In

    While colors fly outside the panes,
    while branches grow more bare,
    while words fly from their origins into notions piling up in heaves
    against curbs in my mind,
    I put on my brown poet coat,
    thick with memory,
    the pocket lint vague evidence of seasons past.

    I open up a door to
    take a walk
    against the winds of change,
    that will subside, in time,
    so now I write a few heart-spoken poems,
    scribbled on the virtual leaves
    that pass and tumble between us
    on this lovely autumn-littered lane.

    ©. Damon Dean, 2018

  24. Finishing with a bang, Damon. You’ve done good work these past few months.

  25. Marie and Walt: Another couple of lovely, heartfelt poems. You two are great inspiration.

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