Light flickering

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

Sunday early morning yawning time

late to slide from crumpled bed

to kneel not in prayer but - to feel

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 beneath a dark

smoky scented stain of old kettle

settled on metal plate, heating drips

from old tap set by ma's finger tips

Now'days radiators stand looking lonely,

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

[Franky]

What beautiful, thoughtful poetry. I love the descriptions. Yes! It's that time of year isn't it? I've got my wool socks and long underwear on. Lol

[emmajoygreen]

Laughing! Never too early to prepare. Must awaym but many thanks for the giggle

[Franky]

You're very welcome. This was refreshing poetry.

[emmajoygreen]

And freer than free can be!

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

What a lovely ode. I can really feel the warmth of the fire and the smell of the burnt wood while reading this. Today was the first cold day this autumn, and it brought me a bit of warmth.

[emmajoygreen]

What a kind review, sir. The fire and its warmth are welcome to all those feeling the chill of coming Winter. Many thanks.