Bright colours of dreams
stream behind us
as we run.
Blinded by the sun's pride
we took his goodness
for granted,
and stood for too long.
Waxen beauty, you melt.
The colours run and smear
and the ugliness unveils.
Wet footprints set into stone
as I retrace my steps.
Disintegration sets in,
and my shell has collapsed.
I am uncovered.
The candle has been consumed :
the wick singed, but whole
seeks another cloak of wax.
And stops.
No more.
No heat can hurt
if she hides not
behind sheaths.
The burning has terminated life,
and given birth to
immortality.
A contest entry
- Abstract/Concrete by ea.
300 points, ended December 20, 2006, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I found this line the most empowering,'No more.'-'No heat can hurt if she hides not behind sheaths.'-these lines leave me feeling good somewhere-'given birth to
immortality.'-this line is beautiful
-you have a natural flair with words- they seem to pour out effortlessly and so beautifully,'Bright colours of dreams'-'Waxen beauty, you melt.The colours run and smear and the ugliness unveils.'-'the wick singed'-I have liked your entire poem a whole bunch 
Wishing you a Merry Xmas
-
i catch a similar theme here to the last one i read by you, with the burning, a good poem. spill ink and twist me into the crazy shape of love...
-
Thank you.
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