by Clara Mae Gregory
i heard a joyful noise
and beheld a bright sight
in your mother's travail
your candle gave light
your a capella voice,
was like a nightingale's,
song birthed by the night
melodic cries sparkled
like bright starlit gems
as i held and cradled them
in my clasped hands
rocking your sparkles to
soft tunes that never dim
for only too soon blows in the wind
tomorrow's storm cries and wails
from sorrows blown in by the gales
snuffing out youth's innocent flame
‘til only the wick and cold wax remain
Author's Note: a repost that has been revised from the original version
Posted on 10/10/2009
Copyright © 2020 Clara Mae Gregory
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 10/18/09 at 12:40 PM|
I know the word beautiful is overused, but that is what this poem is to me, simply beautiful.
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 12/26/09 at 06:04 PM|
What a joy just to hold the "starlit gems" if only briefly. And what a delight to hold this one for these moments. Thanks, Mel.
|Posted by Roger J Kenyon on 03/07/11 at 04:32 AM|
This fine,moving poem is hauntingly beautiful. Overused or not.Thank you Clara Mae Gregory.
|Posted by James Blaylock on 03/12/11 at 10:01 AM|
Such wondrous use of a simple word like 'candle'. I write alot about candles myself. I thought this was simply stellar. Life is like a candle being blown from every angle, but the lucky ones survive to a ripe old age.