Saturday, September 2, 2006


Rating: 5.0
Come, journey with me
Into imagination
From the melancholy tones
Past the wailing moans
To the night of utter darkness
Undefiled by any sacred light
Save one

A wraith holds a candle
The one pale, the other vivid.
Clad in innocent white,
She stumbles over her hem
Or maybe it’s over her naivety

The first flicker
Wax dripping onto her skin
Burning, but she doesn’t even notice
For her work is not yet complete
And she must bring light to this world

The second flicker
This time across her face
A flicker of fear
For the darkness is so oppressing
And the stump of wax in her hand
No longer resembles a candle

The final flicker
Then the flame simply is no more
Shaking hands dropp the useless wick
Soot staining her gown,
Staining her innocence
And a puff of smoke is all that remains of her dreams
Abby Koning
William Jackson 04 September 2006
Well crafted poem. I will have to ponder this one! Well done!
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Moon Batchelder 02 September 2006
such a vivid dream this weaves upon the haunting...much enjoyed this one...
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