Light flickering

for Vol's Group, prompt to do with fire, ash, etc.

Sunday early morning yawning time

late to slide from crumpled bed

not kneeling in prayer but - feeling

the lingering warmth of ash now grey, 

once gorgeous gay, in a ripe bright

light flickering in the grate

Ash, the aftermath of heated holiness

silent with past, flits an' spits of

sparkling bark, blazing 'neath a dark

smoky scented stain of old kettle

settled on metal plate, heating drips

from tap set by our ma's finger tips

Now'days radiators stand looking alone,

heat silent, nowt to noise, nowt to glow,

only plugs' powered sans theatrics

playing their roles by offering heat

to those with money-low hope as 

shadows dance walls stained by smoke

Reviews

[Nessa]

Your poem "Sunday Early Morning" is a beautiful meditation on the remnants of warmth and the passage of time. The imagery you create with ash—once vibrant and alive—evokes a sense of nostalgia, transporting us to a moment where the flickering light holds both memory and melancholy.

The contrast between the “gorgeous gay” ashes and the “lonely” radiators captures the bittersweet nature of change. I appreciate how you weave in the tactile details, like the “smoky scented stain” and the “drips from old tap,” which bring the scene to life, allowing readers to feel the textures of your experience.

Your exploration of heat, both physical and emotional, resonates deeply. The shift from a lively warmth to the quiet stillness of modernity reflects a universal truth about our connections to home and the people we cherish. The phrase “shadows dance walls stained by smoke” is particularly striking, creating a vivid picture of how past warmth lingers even in its absence.

Thank you for sharing this evocative piece; it invites reflection on the small yet profound moments that shape our lives.

Warmly,
Elnnes

[emmajoygreen]

What a wonderful review, thank you so very much, You have read carefully, found the little cues that added themselves as my fingers invited my intentions! :)

[Nessa]

Thank you for this masterpiece you have written

[emmajoygreen]

Smiling over the miles, Elnnes

[nadia dmitri]

While I am certainly one for modern day appliances, I too feel a little sad sometimes when I see how beautiful their predecessors were, beautiful write :)!

[Samuel Dickens]

I'm very impressed. You say things in ways that can only be described as inspired. I know--my words are puny in comparison to some of the other reviewers, but they are earnest.

[emmajoygreen]

How very kind of you, Samuel. I still learn from you and the way your memories and make believe meld into superb tales! So, please, wear those laurels, that crown and all the rest - with the recognition you deserve and have for years!

[John the Baptist]

Modern appliances are efficient but they lack the charm of their predecessors. Here the poet looks at the old grate and is rewarded by memories of times gone by. The radiator can heat the body, but not the soul.

[emmajoygreen]

How very, very true! Love log fires, the look and smell of them. Cleaning only takes a while.. and meantime there's that smokiness in the house.. Open windows plus herb/petal pot pourri quite quickly freshens air. Admit to opening all windows once a week over the Winter, do that over two days! The smell of a fire is part of the charm anyway, but.. ..

[Vol]

EmmaJoy,
You know what I like about this one? It is what a poet friend of mine once said all those years ago. Poems are not for knowing the poet, nor for understanding or analyzing the poem. No, poems are for understanding ourselves, and that's why all poets are crazy.

The sensuality of a woman sliding out of bed on a lazy Sunday opens a curtain to reveal the thing inside me who loves this specific beauty… one of peace, comfort, and love. The blazing fire, full of life and desire, now dead in its own ashes, shows my first great fear, one she is always there to hide from me. The third stanza is even more chilling, and I worry, Must it end this way, like Eliot said, “not with a bang, but a whimper?
Vol

[emmajoygreen]

Thank you so much for knowing how I can and often think and feel, my friend. As to your last words, might not be loud whimper, but, can feel like one wanting to grow and .. who knows what next.

[Vol]

There are all kinds of whimpers... most of them a positive sign...
Vol
Vol

[redzone]

Sunday morning memories. One of my Sunday morning memories was dad making us breakfast, sometimes it was eggs anyway we wanted them, over easy, dippy, poached (over toast), hard-boiled, or pancakes. On occasion, it could also be waffles or French toast. The heat from the stove mixes with the light pouring through the window, enhancing the warmth of a full belly after this was Sunday Newspaper reading, and clipping coupons before heading out on a Sunday drive through the countryside.

I haven't thought about this in a while now, but reading your poem brought it flooding back. Thank you Emmajoy for a lovely poem and wonderful memory. Curt

[emmajoygreen]

O what a wonderful picture you 've created with your incredible review! Could see and almost smell your once upon a time precious Sundays. They are the special memories, the ones to never forget and try with all the might and heart possible to rekindle whenever possible. Thank YOU for your lovely review.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

what eloquent imagery as always....this poem took me back to Sundays...having to get up for church but wanting to stay under the covers and dream about things I really wanted to do that day.
Why is our best sleep always the last of it towards early morning.
j.

[emmajoygreen]

jacob, sir, your end question is one of the prime mysteries of life! In fact the scent of it covers quite a few deep thoughts.. not wanting to lose a unique feeling of.. .. wishing it would never stop. Could even be a cloud dancing the bluem latering shape from a spear into the slant of a stalk with a bud gradually opening... Have seen that, have and never forgotten. That breath of sleep is so similar. Also remember those mornings of 'having to'! Thank you so much, dear friend.

[Betty Hermelee]

hi EM these beautiful muses and your very English words caught my eye, tho i read it many times….all of your words perfectly define heat and fire; the heat from your grandmother’s kettle, the radiators and the warmth from the ashes of a wood burning fire as you awaken at dawn ( mostly)…..and electric heating that the less fortunate use, and sometimes cause fires for these poor souls……you really cover the gamut with memories of heat and flame…excellent writing….
warmly, B

[emmajoygreen]

Good morning, dear Betty! Hope your shoulder's feeling more comfortable, that you are able to do more every day. Many thanks for your kind words on my poem about fire and words similar. Is a piece especially written for Vol's prompt. Am very much enjoying prompts so far set. Take care, stay smiley, happy and more. xx

[Betty Hermelee]

I like them as well! Not much news here except we are still in the big city! Water not potable at home.. but we are keeping very busy! Hugs🙏🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

[Mauricio Montoya]

Emma I was scrolling to read something that would.rise my.eye and you.came along. Yes the first stanza great imagery very well thought love the ending, Light Flickering in a grate. Wow great flow but the second stanza love how you bring words together make one want to read more, finger tips it gets heavy you have a way as one reads to feel the emotion, lol but the ending no interpretation can change if we blow smoke there will be stain. Excellent write, Thank god for sharing.

[emmajoygreen]

You leave such kind words, Mauricio, picking out bits of this and that to leave show me what can work. Must sleep now so excuse my brevity. Take care on your travels, sir, and - many thank yous.

[Mauricio Montoya]

Sleep tight til we read again,