a cleansing flame

Poem #219 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

to a taper

as wick

he ignited
his impurities
those that were
and that stood
so rigidly
as him

then slowly
he burned

his unclean self
and deficits

a flame is yellow
a flame is blue
a flame
is white

and so he burned
until the light
so warm in honesty
to grey
to dark

until a muddling pool
of tallowed stuff
and a dispersing black
of smoke
were all

he was gone

but the shape of him
burned clean away
the shape that once
he was
stood clear
stood pure
and clean

© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #220: lonely fish

2 thoughts on “a cleansing flame

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