Poems by candlelight
In the "old country," the candlelight serves an obvious purpose: illumination. Out here in the West, we turn off electric lights so we can light candles. Though I had read tons of romance novels in my teens, it was still hard to understand the craze for candles. There was this friend of mine in Ottawa whose idea of a treat was to have a candlelit dinner for one (or two if I was around). She would cook dinner and set it all out on her kitchen table -- table cloths, place mats and all. Then she would turn off the lights and light two candles and sit down for dinner. The joke was that she was having a romantic candlelit dinner for one!
In recent years, there has been an explosion of motive (or mood) candles that come in exotic and luxurious fragrances. My sister, who lives in London, U.K., and spent the Christmas of 2000 with me here in Edmonton, was amazed at the number of shops that deal exclusively in candles. And after many Christmases of receiving fragrant candles as gifts, I have found myself drifting gradually into the "candle thing." My sister and I even went shopping for some candles for my apartment. Once on the Oprah Winfrey Show, women were told to pamper themselves by having luxurious baths enveloped by an array of mood candles. I haven't reached that stage yet, but increasingly, I've found myself lighting several candles (of diverse fragrances) on several evenings and luxuriating in the aroma therapy. There's something about a nice aroma that really soothes the senses, and this explains why I spend so much money on perfumes. Sometimes, I splash on expensive Estée Lauder fragrance just to go to bed. But nice cranberry-fragranced candles are so much cheaper. Hopefully, they produce the same effects.
So, while I tell stories under the moonlight, the Muse in me goes wild when I'm surrounded by burning motive candles. Many times I've woken up in the middle of the night to write down a poem, story or something connected with the "serious" side of my life (presently, my PhD dissertation). And there's nothing more heavenly (on earth) than writing a poem in the glow of candlelight. I call it my romantic evening of one.
The company now increases as I share these poems with you. As with other areas of my life, many of these poems are inspired by things going on in my life. However, they are not autobiographical. I hope you enjoy these amateurish attempts at poetry. At any rate, do walk away feeling you've just spent an evening with me surrounded by wonderful-smelling candles and sappy, syrupy poetry. Short of the "real thing," what can be more romantic than that?
Falling Petals -- September, 1997
I, the teacher and I, the student
The hood less traveled: Post-nuptial blues
(More to come)