“Love cannot
endure indifference. It needs to be wanted. Like a lamp, it needs to be fed out
of the oil of another's heart, or its flame burns low.” - Henry Ward Beecher
This week, Poetry Jam wants participants to write about “the flame”. A broad topic to be sure, and whether one chooses to be literal or figurative, there are countless possibilities. Here is my contribution:
Our Love’s Flames
In the depths of my abyss
And my endless, lonely night,
I remember a sweet kiss
And the flames of love’s delight.
In the desert of my strife
In the coldness of my soul,
I recall our happy life
And the warmth that made us whole.
In the roiling seas ice-cold
And the Winter’s howling storm,
Long past Spring of old
I yearn, and the fire of Summer warm.
In a dark, dejected place
Hungry, thirsty and forlorn,
I seek you, of endless grace,
Come, remove my heart’s deep thorn.
In the Autumn greyness drear
And my freezing blood’s despair,
I await you to come by near
All my damage to repair.
Come again, and heal my pain,
Blow the ash off my cold grate;
Light my fires, fan my flames,
Tell me all was not in vain;
I was right to hope and wait,
Let us play our old love games.
This week, Poetry Jam wants participants to write about “the flame”. A broad topic to be sure, and whether one chooses to be literal or figurative, there are countless possibilities. Here is my contribution:
Our Love’s Flames
In the depths of my abyss
And my endless, lonely night,
I remember a sweet kiss
And the flames of love’s delight.
In the desert of my strife
In the coldness of my soul,
I recall our happy life
And the warmth that made us whole.
In the roiling seas ice-cold
And the Winter’s howling storm,
Long past Spring of old
I yearn, and the fire of Summer warm.
In a dark, dejected place
Hungry, thirsty and forlorn,
I seek you, of endless grace,
Come, remove my heart’s deep thorn.
In the Autumn greyness drear
And my freezing blood’s despair,
I await you to come by near
All my damage to repair.
Come again, and heal my pain,
Blow the ash off my cold grate;
Light my fires, fan my flames,
Tell me all was not in vain;
I was right to hope and wait,
Let us play our old love games.
I like the rhythm reminiscent of happy time and sweet anticipation...
ReplyDeleteI can feel the heat and desire in this, it captivates the senses from the first line.
ReplyDeleteSo many excellent images here along with an appealing rhythm. I like the way it ends with hope.
ReplyDeleteNick, I think this is my favorite of your poems..ever. Love's flames can burn over the years...in all seasons...through the good and difficult times. May the flame always be bright!
ReplyDeleteNicholas,
ReplyDeleteRather like watching a captivating film, I wanted a 'happy ever after,' ending..The journey through living and relationships is never easy; so many issues can fragment the love that was once there...Seasons are life itself.
Eileen
I like your poem, Nick, particularly the last stanza and its inviting tone.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem with nicely contrasting images of absence/separation/coldness/loneliness and togetherness/heat/summer/flames
ReplyDeletePS: The first stanza is just wonderful!
ReplyDeleteoh my, oh my this is so easily absorbed into my being, the longing is sincere and honestly communicated, you won my empathy and my appreciation
ReplyDeletemuch love...
Beautiful poem! I loved the contrasts and the season references worked well with the theme of love lost and love (hopefully) regained!
ReplyDeleteA redolent piece. The good times, the sadness, and the hope...Beautifully expressed!
ReplyDeleteThere is tragic despair and then there is the small flame of hope. A moving poem.
ReplyDeleteI can always count on your work for strong imagery, and this one certainly did not disappoint. Beautifully done. I enjoyed the quotation from Henry Ward Beecher, too. He and his family are on my husband's family tree. I read Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin" with new enthusiasm when I discovered that.
ReplyDelete