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The flame upon a candle sits,
its light against the darkness pits.
Its strength the slightest breeze will tax,
and press it low to melted wax.

Persistent flicker 'til the dawn,
when wax is spent and flame is gone.
In this nocturnal vigil kept,
a thousand fears from night are swept.

So are lives like candles lit,
each pushing back the dark a bit.
And when the day arrives at last,
the flame to glowing wick is passed.

Its soul upon thin thread of smoke,
drifts slowly up now free of yoke.
Until is found what has been sought,
and within God's hand is caught.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


This was a very good write, though the reference on the last line to a God spoilt the whole thing, instead of:- "and within God's hand is caught". to appease the other Gods it could read as:-
"Within eternities hand is caught" This would make it as a universal piece.
Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Got to agree with Ian on the last line, but overall i thought this was a great poem. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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