Flickering Flame

"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "

                                 Quote by Constance La France

Oil just few drops left; wick irrecoverably worn out;
Wet match box; just a single stick; I strike, yet, with no doubt;
Midst terrible tempests, torrential rains and thatch-roof-leak,
Clings to a nook of that cracked chimney, survival seen bleak;
I shield the flame; count the hour; will day, yet, before time dawn?
Who will steal? What? With these thoughts I serenely sleep, fears gone...!


17 November 2022
WRITING CHALLENGE - ''V'' Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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Ashley Avatar
November 19, 2022 at 8:43 PM
Dear Christuraj, intense emotions are so eloquently expressed and framed in this lovely poetry form.. I adore your last line.. a grand finale! Warmest wishes.. ~Susan
Alex Avatar
November 20, 2022 at 7:25 AM
Thank you very much for your beautiful analysis.
M  Avatar
November 17, 2022 at 11:11 PM
I love this poem Alex! I was there striking that match and feeling all you wrote! Really enjoyed! Debx
Alex Avatar
November 20, 2022 at 7:25 AM
Thank you very much for your beautiful analysis.
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