Candle in a dark room.
Fire in the ice,
Laughter in the gloom.
Taker of breath,
Bringer of death.
Dryer of tears,
Bringer of fears.
Silent voice,
Obvious choice.
You intoxicate the sober,
Bring the chills in October.
As the bringer of destruction,
You then begin the construction,
Of a being anew.

The candle lit

Gentle lump of wax
Burning bright
Please give me your light
Please give me your light

Gentle lump of wax
Burning bright
Please give me your light
Please give me your light

gentle lump of wax
burning bright
please give me your light
please give me your light

gentle. lump. of. wax.

burning wax.


trinity 6d

my candle ignites
and the wax begins to wane
i, too, start to melt

Madam X Nov 6

The candle's flame is still in the night.
The silence should scare me but it feels just right.
There is no wind. There is no fear.
There's only the candle standing there.
I hear the music, it's amazing sounds.
My feet feel so light upon the ground.
If I wanted to, I could fly.
I would sleep on clouds and dance in the sky.
If gravity stopped right where you were standing,
would you have any intention in the future of landing?
Some might hang on to a leaf or a branch,
to make sure they don't stray to far from their path.
Im not sure what I would do.
I don't know if I would hang on. Would you?

I'm new at this. Be kind :)
Tatiana Nov 5

I'm like a snuffed out candle
with its smoke still curling
into the dark sky.
A wispy grayish white,
still visible at night.

The scent still lingers
it's not quite ready to leave
the area it called home.
Still making its presence known,
but fading as the winds groan.

The immediate darkness that settles
around the snuffed out candle
is heavy and forboding.
Yet its still intoxicating,
though the silence is suffocating.

I'm like a snuffed out candle
because I burn bright when needed
and extinguished when I'm not.
Like my light is for others to use
and for the world to abuse.

© Tatiana
Oh hey! It's my 300th published poem! That's kind of cool.
Niobe Sep 30

I am the color of snow
If snow could tan only slightly.
I melt like snow,
I dissolve into puddles and pitfalls,
And no one knows where to find me
On the dark days.

I wake like a candle,
Slow, flickering, wavering.
I burn like a candle,
Bright only in the darkest of times,
I wallow in my self pity,
I adore my deepest pain,
And no one needs me quite like they used to.

I sing when no one can see me,
And dance when none will hear me.
I find my greatest attributes in the loneliest parts of me -
The starving artist well fed by fear of living a full life,
Fear of feeling loved and being loved
And being alone
All at once.

I am the texture of the dark
When the sun and the moon
Elope on the sidelines
Somewhere else in the universe,
The time of day when the sky is empty,
And the time of day
When stars lose all meaning
And no one really cares who is awake
Because it is only me.

I am the creak of a house
That is empty and always has been.
I am the big empty house
Where no man or woman or child dwells,
Only spiders, only spirits.
Only me.

Shane Leigh Oct 31

A candlelight:
     My fire,
          My flame.
   As it
     The wax:
        Away in the dark and I
       Find myself at the bottom,
        On the floor,
                At your door
                  But too afraid to knock,
                     So I count,
                   For the subtle flame
                  In your window to burn
               Like me, it will melt away;
            Until finally,
           One day,
          There is nothing.
        No light, no glow, no warmth
      And my candlewick's black -
    Used up and gone -
  But will you remember?
            Will you remember?

© Shane Leigh
Enjoy (:
Richard Grahn Oct 27

Heaven’s River flows
stardrops rain down through the night
snuff out the candle

This marks the next phase of a journey to understand Haiku better.
Hopefully, I can improve on this eventually.
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