A revision of a previously published poem, in syllabic form
Flint to stone, creates the spark
Flick of hope, to light the dark
Grow a torch, from powdered ash
A fruitless...and futile task
Strike the stone, to no avail
Embers die, the damp prevails Flame-less spark, no fuels ignite
A portrait of Loves' still-life
The couplet is such an ideal form to express these feelings, based in fear and futility, but yet not without hope: "Grow a torch from powdered ash..."--burned, but ready to flame again!
a poem of hard sharp images, LA Lorena. obviously, the lack of spark is the crux. i guess we have to look far to find the right kind of fuel to catch fire. a good write, my friend.
Could just as easily apply to one's blocked writing as to a dead love.
Finding a new love is often the solution to both these problems. (Good luck with forcing that into any convenient time frame.)
Still, this revamped piece is quite successfully woven on your poet's loom of gloom. It is very fine work, LA.
Your splendid use of metaphors...throughout this poem.. created the most unusual images and made it come alive with vibrancy albeit painfully.
Terrific write, LA in a short but precise way...
I really liked it
allen
You know while I was reading this I thought about survivor for some reason how they could never light a fire, that too along with your poem reminds me of how people just don't know how to ignite love and keep the fire burning with it. Great symbols in this!
Hello, I'm known as LA or LL. I am a bit of an enigma, but I like it that way. I'm on a bit of a hiatus from the site for now, as life has gotten a little busy, but I shall return.
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