...as we tread along this haven of poetic flow, piecing master pieces together and engaging our minds one with another to pass messages which otherwise would not be if poetry did not exist...

...Sometimes I feel I am the wick...(to Zoya, my candle)...

Sometimes I feel I am the wick
Engulfed in your wax,
My slender self lost
in the massive embrace that is you, my candle,
My front-end exposed awaiting the flame
that longs to consume us both

Sometimes, when the flame's big brother, the bulb,
is alit in the dwelling place of our master,
And we are hidden in the immense darkness
of the drawer underneath the kitchen table,
I wallow in the fullness of your warmth
Hiding me in your being

Sometimes when the consuming fire
Is crushing our form,
Turning me into ash and melting your desirable self,
Leaving you spluttered upon the wooden table,
I long for the day we were brought together
And fashioned into one

From the honeycomb you came,
And I from the plantation, the land's fame
Never knowing that a day would come
When to one as fair as you I would be bound,
and then the thread in me would be no more.

When the tormenting tongue of the flickering flame licks us,
Fret not my beloved candle, for you burn not alone,
I am right there ablaze with thee.

Poetry by kip
Read 1105 times
Written on 2006-02-03 at 10:53

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

I must admit your talent is massive. the way you wrote this piece is exquisite and captures the essence of the wick in totality revealing a love that runs deep.

Kip kip kip...where do I even start! This is magical, talk about love and tragedy huh! This is definitely a favourite...definitely!

liz munro The PoetBay support member heart!
speechless [a rare thing for me]

Mono Qu
Kip,U ROCK!!