Best Flickering Poems
Sunshine streamed in through
the windows on a slant.
As she flipped long curly
red locks off her shoulder.
She took the other road
most often.
The road less traveled.
Why ?
Because that's how she liked it.
Only because she liked the curves
in the road.
There was a time or two she wondered
about the light flickering at the other end.
But she always had hope in her eyes.
At times it did not matter whether or not
someone was by her side.
Though she did prefer to be connected.
Alas, it couldn't be with just any soul.
She's always been a free spirit.
Such as the gypsies of old.
Coming in with the autumn leaves.
Just as she left on a summers day.
In the quiet of her flickering shadows
3 / 3 / 2014 Monday
Follow your heart,
And you'll find your way,
Listen to your heart,
And tell me what it says.
Deep inside there is a dream,
Something more than it seems,
There seems to be a voice within,
That tells me I should trust Him.
Sometimes it tells me it is going to be alright,
And that there would always be a light shining bright,
But sometimes it feels like I want to surrender,
And my world begins to sunder and shatter.
It feels now like I cannot go on,
And the path now seems forlorn,
Silent and abandoned for all it may be,
Betrayed by all that was once with me.
It feels useless and worthless to even try,
For all hopes and dreams began to die,
And it seems everything was a lie,
But time still goes on by and by.
Hold my hand
and guide me right.
Never let it go
and hold it tight.
The candle burns with heat at night
Peaceful flame of flickering light
All worries melt with restful sight
Erased by new dreams of delight
A scent remains, things are alright
A calming moment can bring might
From flame within that does ignite
Within the soul that wants things right
Heidi Sands
1/14/21
Light fractures, as it filters through Jasmine
a soft splayed light on the wrinkled skin
of an old man's hands
it brings warmth to his mornings
under the vines, wrapped and tangled overhead
Each day he shuffles to his hand made rocking chair
to consume time and the passing of his life
that is fading away, like a flickering candle
that's melting with his memory, of burying his wife
he spends hours in conversation with his loneliness
before taking a deep long breath
exhaling away his tears, in a quiet pause
with trembling hands, reaches for a pipe his wife gave him
and searches for tobacco he keeps in his overalls
she would complain each time he blew smoke
through the vines, as if connecting to something beyond
with an offering
she would say...stop that
he laughed in amusement, then do it again
looking over to see if he could catch a smile
during midday, he pulls weeds and tosses seeds to birds
they seem to understand when to show up
as they eat he'll clean the birdbath his wife loved so much
when she would watch them flap their wings
like a dance in the water
at sunset, he returns to his chair
to continue his conversation until dark
before he leaves he always looks back
and says...are you coming
8/17/17
In the quiet corridors of my mind, where memory and flickering thoughts reside,
we tell ourselves stories in order to live, to find meaning in the chaos,
seeking sermons in the despair of loss, searching for lessons in violence,
where five snuffed-out lives become a moral parable,
a narrative we shape to comprehend an incomprehensible reality.
We are the weavers of our own truth, choosing the most viable threads,
interpreting what we see through the prism of our elaborate tales,
imposing a coherent line upon disparate images,
freezing the shifting phantasmagoria of our experiences
with the ideas we have learned, like anchors in the turbulent sea of existence.
Through this stream of consciousness, I wander deeply,
where tangled thoughts intertwine with hues of sentiment,
seeking to grasp the elusive threads of dreams and weave them into meaning,
we are adventurers in the landscapes of intellect and soul,
each story we tell a beacon, a light in the dark forest of the unknown.
We find comfort in the narrative line we impose,
an appearance of order in the whirlwind storm of existence,
where each moment is a passing phantom, each experience a fleeting shadow,
and yet, in this magic of storytelling, we find anchor, grace,
transforming the ephemeral into the enduring, the transient into the eternal.
Melancholy wraps itself around each story,
a whisper of beauty from sadness, a hint of light within the shadow,
each chosen word an attempt to freeze the fluid, to grasp the intangible,
to bind the phantasmagoria into something we can hold close to our hearts.
Life, with all its chaos and fractured pieces,
finds a fragile peace within the narratives we construct,
as we trace the lines of meaning with trembling fingers,
seeking to transcend the transient, to touch the infinite
in the sacred space of a well-told story, of a fleeting moment captured forever.
Through our stories, we become more than mere spectators,
we become the architects of our own destinies,
each story a spell, an enchantment against the inexorable flow of time,
and in this act of creation, we discover ourselves,
the storytellers, the dream weavers, the light in the storm,
casting a gentle glow over the phantasmagoria that is life.
Written: September 02, 2023
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Flickering body
Breath fuels the flame of life~
Mind's traffic glows bright
Minds' discipline gleams
Sparks of credo ignite thoughts~
Silent glow guides us
Journey within starts
Introspection sparks fairness~
Wisdom blooms with time
Inward strength prevails
Perseverance guides the way~
Wisdom's path unfolds
How burns the fire of life
whose fuel and air are resentment and hate?
The flames of those elements burn white-hot
yet they warm not.
Fully stoked their hearths burn, char, and ruin.
They leave scarred all who do not seek out safety.
They are a kiln for firing the clays of caustic enmity.
The bitter flames of malice consume
our mortal pottery inside-out.
A fine, lifeless residue of destruction their only remnant;
the ash from which is swiftly and silently swept into oblivion.
II
Better shared a brief caring moment,
some small affection or comfort given, and these
with a smile, embrace, or tear of common perception.
Though perhaps faint flickering lights,
these moments and insights, with unbroken purpose,
support and sustain our human condition.
While burning themselves out from all effort,
these elements defend, strengthen,
and guide us through darkness.
Let me be sustained by the flame from
the flickering light of love and kindness.
May I become the kindling of decency,
my actions a hearth of grace,
my spirit glowing embers of light
for all next generations.
The Flickering Light
7-14
The prevailing light encircled by darkness
I hear whispers of light in night’s calmness
A choir warbling bidding out “Iris! Iris”
That engrossed look, rapt delight of Iris.
Flickering and playing she gleams
And with it my hopes and dreams gleam
In light it dances and sways left and right
Like my Iris swayed in my arms in delight
Like a ballerina she dances casting shadows on walls
Reflecting its beauty thro’ the windows of my soul
The flame casting its light, enlightening the darkness
What a symbol to embrace in night’s calmness.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Date 2-20-14
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form : Rhyme
Second Place Win
Contest: Impress Me by Giorgio V.
Motif: Romantic
A candle flickered when you gone
Announcing that you passed away
To the world when no one come back
Leaving a sorrow that instill to the mind
The walls that witnessed your departure
2-8-2016
Once you showed your shadow to me,
I roamed your cell and watched, quietly
as silent plans, began to emerge. That
urge to be free, that surge of complexity
was uncomfortable for me. Eventually,
that thread of hope was cut into pieces.
Flickering light, shattering, like prisoners,
reflecting, gathering those pieces and
holding them tight. A line of sight, two
sided, something not right, despite the
will to survive, the cell has divided itself,
half light pulses, the memory transposes…
Flickering light, shadows of hope return to fear,
pieces of thread, washed away, shed like a tear.
sharp splinters of white
lightning harvest in raindrops
flash within my eyes
This is for Raul's "Shards of Light" contest.
Entranced, I stared at the fire's rhythmic flicker
My eyes transfixed on the glowing golden flame
The pungent scent of night jasmine grew thicker
Entranced, I stared at the fire's rhythmic flicker
Our romantic whispers became words of bicker
Nothing between us would ever be the same
Entranced, I stared at the fire's rhythmic flicker
My eyes transfixed on the glowing golden flame
The pungent scent of night jasmine grew thicker
Entranced, I stared at the fire's rhythmic flicker
Our romantic whispers became words of bicker
Nothing between us would ever be the same
My eyes transfixed on the glowing golden flame
Envisioning the love we could never reclaim
Do you believe in love?
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Do you believe love is like a seed?
Plant it.
Water it.
Be patient.
Watch it grow.
Do you believe it is like a weed, a wild thing?
Growing uncontrollably.
Choking.
Taking life energies from everything in its path.
Do you believe it is more like a wild flower?
Blooming in the spring.
Waiting for a defrost.
Its rebirth coming from the warming sun.
The beauty fleeting.
Sleeping in the end.
Instinctively we all should know.
Has my heart really turned from gold to cold?
Has my mind taken over much control?
Being jaded cannot fade away.
It lingers making me turn away, run away.
Ghosts of loves gone bad hang over me.
A cobra ready to strike up injecting deadly poisons into my veins.
Candles flickering flame casting shadows that will forever remain.
Breath held tight, not much room left for what should be loves energy light.
The Candles flickering flame has been blown out.
Time passes.
Flickers bloom.
Sparks try to ignite.
Taking chances seem way to far out of reach.
Can the soul's candle's wick be relighted or is it now just too late.
what avail, awareness without freedom
why shines not, light of our luminescence
our heart yearns for more, we must overcome
we feel the rhythm within our bosom
joy experience in fleeting transience
what avail, awareness without freedom
each sensorium wishes to blossom
not part quintessence but full effulgence
our heart yearns for more, we must overcome
discontent with bliss vibration seldom
let unbroken be, dance of innocence
what avail, awareness without freedom
no fear residuum in Gods kingdom
flickers yet flame of bliss incandescence
our heart yearns for more, we must overcome
need jump quantum to imbibe full spectrum
radiance must outpour in permanence
what avail, awareness without freedom
our heart yearns for more, we must overcome
29-May-2021
flickering fireflies
faerie spirits of the land,
I cry to see you...
but when I embrace the sea,
she washes those tears away.
(Tanka)
6/01/2021