As a candle burned into the night
the poet played a game
Chasing words that tried to hide
behind the flickering flame
But however hard the poet tried
he could not catch but one
The words were quick to disappear
as they were having fun
It really was frustrating
as he could see them forming there
But the words stayed just outside his reach
as they had no cause to care
The candle burned down to its wick
and though he’s tried his best
The poet couldn’t catch those words
and finally had to rest
But then, as darkness ruled again
a little magic came
For the words the poet had seen there
behaved themselves again
And later as the poet stirred
from slumber there he found
the very words he’d never caught
so he quickly wrote them down
©Jemverse
Jan 09, 2016 @ 03:40:13
Nice!
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 03:43:47
Thanks Gwenice 😀
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 03:51:51
Great Post
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 10:40:36
😀
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 08:21:04
I find the same; I fear to tell;
When looking for a word
It runs away. I have to yell
“Come back you little tu…” [the rhyme eludes me… or does it?]
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 10:42:53
Hahahahaha!
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 08:35:31
Great poem, but what do you call this game?
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 10:43:45
I’m open to suggestion Ratika!
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Jan 09, 2016 @ 13:28:04
For me, this game’s probably called Writing!
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