2 Short Poems: The Candlelight Sessions

A couple of days ago the power went out in my house, it was a little after midnight, I was alone at the kitchen table, and everything was quiet and peaceful. To commemorate such a happening I lit up some candles got a pen and paper and decided the atmosphere was just right for writing poetry. I ended up writing two short poems (well shorter than I am used to writing). So here they are.


By Candlelight

 As memory flickers

Back and forth between light and dark

These inexplicable moments

Tarry with the ticking of the clocks

And the rustling of the stars

Scattered across an ill-fated sky

Where I once placed my passions

Oh murderous murderous

Disillusioned and unforgiven

The unanswered cries of my blessed isolation

Where I dream to only sleep

For the beckoning of madness

And her luminous tokens

Sieges me with an unspeakable harmony

And a most affectionate agony

Oh cursed mind how long must I suffer your woeful charms?

Can I ever be free of your prisons?

For to love by candlelight is not a dance that I would dance

But a fire that will consume me

And that harrowing beauty will flicker

In the darkness of my soul forevermore


So that was the first poem I wrote and right after I wrote this one . . .


The Tragedy of Waiting

 Oh tragedy!

How seductive are your cries

How folly are my ways

For the bird of thought no longer sings in my mornings

And it’s heart no longer flies in my evenings

But it perches itself on your footstool

Oh loveless creature know the vanity of your ways

And the purposelessness of your song

A song so uninspired and trite

Hope no longer lingers in your gardens

Where you were once free with all other living things

And how not even the sky could contain your passions

Your passions that woke me with each sun rising

And your promises that assured me of my closing eyes

That in the heart of tomorrow

And all the tomorrows that will follow

I should find you singing your songs of love

I should find you soaring on wings of freedom

And know that like the bird that serenades my soul

My hopes and my passions will fly also

Even at the setting of the sun

But alas I am still only waiting


. . . and that’s all I have to ay about that.


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