He walks in a world of mirrored glass and gold,
Where every coin is made of teeth, and time
Is measured not by clocks, but by heavy lead.
A dog, a ghost, a myth of hollow bones,
Buried beneath a weeping willow’s song.
He seeks the Table carved of jagged stars,
Where suited phantoms trade in shattered breath,
And penance bleeds from leather-bound decrees.
Beneath the neon rain, the shadows twist,
Weaving a coat of sorrow for the dead.
He aims, a cipher in a waking dream,
Through catacombs of chalk and snapping glass,
Where adversaries dissolve in clouds of ink.
The pencil falls—a catalyst of wood—
And writes a symphony upon the brain.
He bleeds in shades of bruised, electric blue,
Rising again to face the shifting maze,
A tethered phantom in a tailored suit.
The path winds backward to a sunlit grave,
Where peace remains a memory of smoke.
Drippy fingers I want to lick
sticky sweet with a quck pick;
Strawberries mix that jam
it hits me a wild slam;
Bees tend to swarm a lit wick.
Night enfolds me. Darkness is all around
Too late to turn back; it's a shelter I seek
A bed of leaves gathered upon the ground
Shall serve well enough on a night so bleak
Pinch the wick of lantern's flame until it dies
My thoughts will be of you as I close my eyes
November 29, 2021
Bite Size Poem no28 Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
I'd like to start a middle child club for all those kids who got stuck with the rub.
For those who received the lesser end of the stick, when the flames of love were burning, they were left with a short wick. I'd like to shout out to that middle child who found love thru others, that they should feel proud. For going beyond their birth families allowed them to experience how loves supposed to be. I'd like to acknowledge that middle child who wouldn't settle for disparities, allow their emotions to become beguiled. They didn't wallow in hurt feelings nor become a sad sack, for they learned how to love others beyond their abilities to love back.
Candles wick has melted not fallen wax turns to liquid
7/24/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.© 2020
A flash
Of lightening
Churns
My soul
My internal jyothi
Senses the palpitations.
The wick glows;
The lamp glistens!
~Sima Mittal
#happydiwali2019
#simamittalpoetry
#lampofsoul
Keanu Reeves as John Wick
I am John Wick .No lam not weak....l just need a week to see myself win.
I am different so is my mission , lam talking vision no intimidation this is my intuition....l can feel the sun shining my dark paths already.
I dream in color ...Future so bright the demons of yesterday dead.... buried and gone.....now here we are seeking for refulgence, redemption , salvation the Lord's supper! He wept for Saul how do l repay such?
Your love my shield!
Your voice my campus!
I am a sinner , a Reaper , a Ninja , a Beggar , a Fisherman...l just need to see, open my sight so l can fly.
Life is the wick
in our vessel of clay
each day a gift
a mystery
no way to check
on our reserve of fuel
one day our light fades
without warning
extinguishes
in a one-time
disappearing act
we can only hope
we’ve made our impact
we’ve touched some lives
made contributions
worthy of this
precious gift called life
wiki wiki wick
duly announces bread crumbs
to the other birds
Burning
with potential
a fire
never lit
a
broken
candlestick
Accept it~
you just might
burn twice as bright
***
wick
lights up
window sill
warm and glowing
to all who pass by,
encouraging friendship,
a welcome greeter today
as slate-gray clouds hover above
joining forces with blustery cold winds,
sleet hits passersby as they hurry home
When the lights go out
Life’s a candle on a wick
So what if they do
When the sun snuffs out
And the day melts down
To a black-wick night.
When the night breeds doubt
And the clouds move in
To slay the light.
When the shoreline ebbs,
And your path erodes,
Where can you stand?
When your joy subsides
Like a bath turned cold,
How can you stay warm?
From a terrible height,
Through a starless sky,
Relief will break your fall.
Once the pain has plunged
To the darkest depths,
Your spirit will climb
To rise with the sun
And reignite the sky.
In blazing wildfire she was caught
Burns penetrated through her heart
When heat of fire is so intense
pain and suffering are immense
What lit the wick of her love's flame
Passion and desire share the blame
No comfort will soothe her charred soul
No words can heal her or console
She swore she had no love to give
nor the will to linger and live
She chose to distance her cold heart
from sparks that could a romance start
Her heart once seared, withers away
Eyes blind if love should come today
It is not only the candle wick that burns this windy autumn night.
There was a tinge of scarlet as well - now shockingly visible! -
behind the beige drapes of the dilapidated living room
of a cobwebbed cottage (both internal and external).
One last great burst of flame was extinguished,
as the heavenly lantern was swallowed whole;
and in its place, spewed out, one crater
filled silver sickle of a harvest moon.
Can you feel from temple to temple
stagnant synapses reassemble?
As bloated television screens
for the final time dwindle
into
a
s
i
n
g
u
l
a
r
i
t
y
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