Leave a light on

    When you leave me,
please —
spike my gloom
with silver sickle
of a waxing moon
and in the wake
behind you
please —
trickle pebble stars
to guide me through
your night till dawn.

    When you leave me,
please —
light me candles
by your bed.

Nude I by Edvard Munch

Today De hosts Quadrille at dVerse, and the word is spike. If you haven’t joined before the challenge is easy. Write a poem in exactly 44 words including the given word.

43 responses to “Leave a light on

  1. Holy cow. Are you kiddin’ me with this?:
    “spike my gloom
    with silver sickle
    of a waxing moon
    and in the wake
    behind you
    please —
    trickle pebble stars”

    Whew.
    Perfection.

  2. A grand and sweet/sad message in a beautiful small box that music spills out of as you open it.

  3. Your quadrille is sublime, Björn. With a poem like that, who wouldn’t want to spike your gloom and guide you with pebble stars.

  4. You light someone candles because they are dead. So this makes me think the speaker is a ghost spouse, lingering in the house after. I think he wants her to always hold him dear even if she starts seeing someone else. So romantic (and kind of kinky). You know that’s my thing. 😛

    “Guide me through your night.” I adore that. Because he doesn’t have an official night anymore, since he’s dead. It’s hers now. But he wants to be part of it.

  5. This is absolute poetic brilliance, Bjorn! ❤️ I love “spike my gloom
    with silver sickle of a waxing moon.” Beautiful! 🙂

  6. Bjorn, you really do have some sensual poems. I was recently learning from a respected colleague about the usage of sensual language in Latin American churches. I am afraid that if I were in Latin America you might be a better worship leader than me. Powerfully evocative, especially with the candle imagery.

  7. Its hard to have anyone leave, no matter for how long. Silver sickle of a waxing moon and pebble stars…you just know how to do this stuff! Light me candles beside my bed? Oh, you’ve got me!

  8. Beautiful imagery, Björn. From the silver sickle to the trickle pebble stars. Though I’m not sure the one who left wants to leave a trail. Such desperate longing and heartache.

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