I am late this week with my W3 and Esther Chilton’s writing challenge combined contribution. This is partly due to the fact that my W3 poem did not meet all the stated requirements in the way requested. I bent the rules so I am publishing this with a reference to the W3 inspiration source but I’m not linking to the challenge.
You can view other poets contributions to W3 here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2026/08/19/w3-prompt-225-weave-written-weekly/
You can view other contributions to Esther Chilton’s writing challenge from last week, fire, here: https://estherchilton.co.uk/2026/08/19/word-prompts-4/
The Candle (freestyle poem)
The stubby candle stood
in a puddle of its own wax
For 92 years its flame had burned
Occasionally
during times of illness
it had burned low
but always
it had been steadfast
pulsing with the rhythm
of her life’s blood
During the good years
it had danced and leaped
during the bad years
it had twisted and bent
accommodating
the turbulent winds
But, it never went out
On and on it burned
sustained for the last fifteen years
by well intentioned doctors
who provided life sustaining drugs
Gazing into its glowing heart
it seemed to mock her
whispering her lossses
the traitorous husband
long returned to the earth
and the name of her home
her sanctuary
the place she’d holed up
to lick her wounds
and regain her sense of self worth
Now it was gone
sold, and the proceeds used
to sustain her unwanted life
in this place of the old and dying
Those same well intentioned doctors
whose drugs kept her heart beating
withheld the much needed pain relief
not wanting to further damage
her aged and declining body
as if it mattered at her age
She wished on them arthritis
and a long and painfilled old age
She could stop the medications
the end would come quicker
but the risks were high
The idea of an intact mind
inhabiting a completely broken body
lying in a bed in frail care
completely dependent on others
held her back
So she gazed with resentment
at that damned flame
wishing it extinguished
Sunday Stills and CFFC
Sunday Stills is all about mini beasts this week and CFFC is about things we watch. I watch mini-beasts so I put the two challenges together. You can join in here: https://secondwindleisure.com/2026/08/23/sunday-stills-animal-of-the-month-dog-and-butterfly/ and here: https://nofacilities.com/2026/08/24/where-what-when-we-watch-cffc/
A variety of bugs in the garden:
Warning, spiders ahead!
roberta-writes.com 
Your poem depicts a sad but very real situation. We should have a better way of caring for people.
Wonderful photos, as always. I like the spider webs. 🕸️
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Hi Merril, I don’t know how this can be improved when elderly people have no family to care for them. I like watching spiders.
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Well, societies would have to change–so, not likely to happen any time soon!
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No, we are going backwards not forwards 😔
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😔
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Your poem reminded me of one I wrote called Candlelight.
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You have noticed the same sad situation then.
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Wonderful poem. You managed to define both a character and a narrative in so few words. That yellow and black beetle is interesting. We don’t have anything like it in the States.
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Hi Priscilla, thank you for your kind comment. I can’t remember what those beetles are called but the love flowers.
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Thispoem is haunting in a familiar way. I guess it reminds me of my mom ageing with Alzheimer’s. Beautiful work..
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Thank you, Ernie. It is sad 😔
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A great poem, Robbie, and wonderful photos!
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It was partially inspired by your poem about living to 94.
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I sort of felt that as I read through it. Thank you for sharing this with me. Very well written!
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🙏🤗💚
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That is a powerful poem Robbie, so moving.
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Thank you, Paul 🙏
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I’m glad you did that, Robbie. I think of poetry as best unregulated.
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I agree, Jacqui. I don’t like to many limitations 🩷
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This is such a brilliant poem, the words are inspiring.
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Thank you 🤗
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❤
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Sad, moving, powerful poem, Robbie.
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It is a sad situation
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Poignant verse Robbie, and fun bug collection.
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What a sad poem of a situation that has become common practice. I dread that scenario. I love your pics, always fun to get those spouder shots.
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Such lovely bugs. I do like beetles in all kinds, and I like to watch them for a while.
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Mini-beasts! Great name for the tiny inhabitants of our world, Robbie! They all have a purpose, too. Great shots, I also like spiders. My name Webster in old English means weaver. 😁
I loved your poem. My former mother-in-law was able to stay home in her last days, but my mother and my husband’s mother lived in nursing homes the last 5 years of their lives. They were well cared for but it’s expensive.
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Robbie, the candle is a powerful metaphor for a life that has continued through so many changes!! Sometimes dancing, sometimes bending in the wind, but continuing to burn. This is certainly a very stark and difficult portrait of ageing, particularly when someone feels that choice and independence have been taken from them. It left me thinking about how profoundly different the experience of growing old can be for each person, and how important dignity, connection and a sense of meaning remain throughout our lives.
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The end of life is full of contradictions–and medicine fails us in as many ways as it helps I think. The worst feeling is the loss of control.
I love the pattern on that beetle’s back. (K)
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A really powerful poem, Robbie and great photos. I don’t like spiders but can admire the photography.
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Fabulous heartfelt poem, Robbie, and fantastic pictures of the garden bugs.
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Hi, Robbie. All the different elements of this post fit very well together. I hope all is well in your world. Big hugs.
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What a heartbreaking existence your 92-year-old is living.
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You poem is incredibly powerful. Using the candle as the arc was perfect. Honestly, I think we take care of our sick and dying pets far better than we do our people.
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A heartbreaking poem, written so well, Robbie. It’s incredibly sad how often the elderly are set aside and forgotten. Sadly, we fall short in how well we treat the most vulnerable among us. The insect world is quite intriguing. Great photos!
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Hi Robbie, I liked the picture of the beetle, the big and the spider’s web. I can never tire of watching a spider make its web. It’s so beautiful.
Your poem is beautifully poignant. Old age is painful for the person and the caregiver. People should be allowed to die with dignity rather than having to wait for it.
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I think a lot of people would understand / identify with that poem, Robbie. Sad but true.
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A poignant poem, Robbie. So sad. It’s a pity we have no better way to care for those in this situation.
I love the photos of the mini-beasts. I, too, dnjoy watching thdm.
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