Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Porch Light

I fled like smoke from a fire -
rising black and curling white
into the first available stretch of sky.
I put my faith in fixed foundations.

But the earth quakes against closed eyes;
steam spindrels of dream/spite
escape and frame most of my nights
into that old farmhouse

with the porch light left on.

For Helen's "home" prompt (I wrote about a past home) at Real Toads.  AND it's 55 words for the Flash Fiction 55 party going on over at Word Garden.

14 comments:

G-Man said...

Just like the Motel 6...

G-Man said...

And just like a Royal Flush!!

Kerry O'Connor said...

The last line is just the perfect ending!

Hannah said...

So much said without sayin...you've a real gift in that...awesome work, Mama Zen!

Gail said...

Beautifully packaged in fifty-five.

Fireblossom said...

It will likely always be there. Good or bad, it tends to stay with us in some way.

Margaret said...

…porch light left on - as a welcome or a reminder, I can't tell. This is packed with powerful emotion - makes me want to know more.

Susie Clevenger said...

Sometimes we can't flee high or far enough to escape a porch light...beautiful piece.

Sumana Roy said...

we fly from something that becomes a distant dream later on..
i find strong emotional stress in fire and steam....a beautiful poem
....

Lorraine Renaud said...

Hell Mama Zen beautiful write but oh my gosh what an awful memory, it must have been scary...\I hope no one got hurt

izzy said...

First two lines are GREAT! porches are fabulous- thanks.

razzamadazzle said...

So different from the wonderful memories of my farm house. That really sounds scary.

grapeling said...

cool ~

Helen said...

Sometimes .. escape is the only solution. (Took me a while to check out the abode poems ... and here we are at day 29!)