Poetry

62 Candles To Blow

A Small Poem Collection With A Candle Theme

Focused Theme

Around ten years ago, I wrote a series of short poems around the theme of candles. These poems will hook you in with their themes:

• Ageing and Mortality: The central theme of these poems is emphasised by the recurring focus on the candles, breath, and the progression of life.
• Loneliness and Loss: The absence of loved ones, highlights the isolation often felt in old age. It also suggests a longing for the days gone by.
• Reflection and Nostalgia: Throughout the poems, there’s a sense of looking back, remembering happier times, and contrasting them with the present.

Imagery and Symbols

Imagery in poetry and any creative writing is crucial. I tried to capture this with the following imagery:

• Candles: They typically represent time, celebration, and age. Here, they measure both the literal age of the protagonist and the diminishing time he has left.
• Breath: A recurring motif throughout the poem, it signifies life and the act of living. The increasingly strained breath underscores his deteriorating health and foreshadows the end.

Tone & Mood

The poem exudes a melancholic and sombre mood, particularly emphasised by the use of terms like “tighter”, “pain”, “Blind”, “Tasteless”, “Deaf.” Tis the overall contemplation of mortality.

Now, onto the poems.

62 Candles to Blow

He wonders, how many more? Older, as the days come and go, He recalls he’s been here before.

He takes a breath of air, Lungs tighter than before. This time there’s no one to care, No one to help him keep the score.

The breath escapes as a sigh, And where earlier in life, Blowing out birthday candles came with a high, Now, pain is its company, and it’s rife.

At sixty years and two, He blows his last breath. He sees her, she he was so proud to woo, Now life is. Blind. Tasteless. Deaf.

Oh Victoria, if only she were here, In her sweet embrace he would have no fear. He smiles. He cries. One last time… he blinks.

“In the flicker of 62 candles, we find a journey of time, love, and the poignant dance between joy and melancholy.” ~TW~

64 Candles Aglow

He contemplates, what’s left to see? With each passing moment, shadows grow, In the mirror, a reflection of what used to be.

A hesitant intake, the air feels slow, Lungs resisting, more than days of yore, Around him, a silence, a lonesome tableau, No chorus of voices, like in times before.

A sigh emerges, quiet and low, In younger years, the candles held such delight, Now with each flicker, memories bestow, Pangs of yesteryears, and twilight’s encroaching night.

At sixty-four, with waning glow, He exhales, feeling the past’s gentle kiss. He thinks of her, the one who’d set his heart aglow, In this vast silence, it’s her laughter he misses.

Oh Clara, with you, time seemed to slow, In your arms, all fears would dismiss. He smiles, a tear falls, and memories flow, One more gaze to the heavens… a silent wish.

“Within the soft glow of 64 candles, we are reminded that memories are the heart’s way of holding onto moments, even as time slips away.” ~TW~

66 Candles Aflame

He ponders, what tales remain to tell? As twilight descends and nights grow long, The dance of flames, a familiar spell, Yet with each year, a different song.

Drawing breath, a ritual so well-known, Lungs strain, echoing times of old, In the room, shadows dance alone, Recalling stories, once brightly told.

With a sigh, memories unfold, Once, candles shimmered with youthful glee, But now they whisper tales of days bold, Of moments lost, and love’s decree.

At sixty-six, in the candle’s flame, He feels time’s tender, nostalgic touch. Thinking of her, the one without name, Her memory, a comfort, means so much.

Oh Eleanor, life’s beautiful frame, With you, moments felt so lush and prime. He smiles, a tear glints, emotions claim, A hopeful prayer… for yet more time.

“Amidst the dance of 66 candles, we discover that the warmest flames are not those before us, but the ones that burn brightly in the chambers of our memories.” ~TW~

68 Candles Alight

He reflects, how many tales to spin? As darkness weaves its age-old song, Candles flicker, memories begin, Echoing a dance that’s both short and long.

Inhaling softly, a ritual refined by years, Lungs pull, but the weight of time does bear, The room’s glow, punctuated by silent tears, Whispers of a past, in the candle’s glare.

A sigh, releasing dreams so clear, In days of youth, candles shone so bright, Now they cast shadows of joy and fear, Telling tales of love, loss, and twilight’s light.

At sixty-eight, with a flame’s embrace, He feels the caress of days gone by. Thinking of her, that tender grace, Her memory, a balm, under the sky.

Oh Isabella, with your timeless face, In your warmth, the world felt so nigh. He smiles, his heart finds its pace, A silent hope… for one more sigh.

“By the luminance of 68 candles, we’re reminded that life’s beauty lies not in its length, but in the depth of memories it etches in the corridors of our souls.” ~TW~

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Until next time,

~TW~