Ceiling Poems | Examples

Mind The Gap

One woman's glass ceiling is another man's wood floor
but there's no such thing for a second-class citizen
of a third world country
as
there's no moving up gender is against her
sexual orientation too considered 'half a witness'
in testimony
with
neither voice nor choice can't vote
or
leave home alone
unless
with consent
can't emigrate (passport permission required)
and
as for caste if she were a Dalit
(lowest of the low)
there's nowhere to go
so
between me and you, flee, be a refugee,
what's a poor girl to do?

Ceiling of doubt

I was told the sky was endless,
But mine was a feather away
A low lid of shadows.
Every step echoes in a room
That was never meant to hold me.

Still, they say, reach higher.
But my hands find only fog,
And my faith slips through it
Like water through open fingers.

In despair, or deep sleep
I open my eyes
But I’m blind
Feeling my way through a world
That swears there’s light above me.

Birdsong

Tweet tweet tweet
I hear the birds speak
I wonder what they say

Perhaps it’s a song
Or a prayer strong
To welcome golden day

The sunshine glows
And wouldn’t you know
By their cheerful chirps

Perhaps they’ve learned 
To get the early worm
And whistle while you work

I lay here nude
Enjoying their tune
Of rainbow inflections 

Tan ceiling fan on
Creating my own song
Sunny disposition suggestion 

Good morning soupers
May you all be troupers
As you earn that early worm

May you keep hope
With or without clothes
As the world turns

The ceiling blinked first, it told me I was looking up too much

The ceiling blinked first—it told me I was looking up too much,
time laughed in a corner, counting backwards just to mock me,
my shadow packed its bags and left a sticky note:
"You're thinking too hard. I need air."
The fan above spun secrets, whispering in Morse code,
I'm not sure if it cursed me or told me the meaning of life,
(too lazy to translate), I sipped gravity like tea,
watched ants reinvent capitalism on the edge of the desk,
and somewhere, in a parallel kitchen, my slice of toast is still falling,
but never touches the floor, floating between unknown dimensions,
while my thoughts dance among the dust threads of the universe,
seeking answers to unspoken questions, in the silence of a ceiling with thoughts.

Death Tree

It's roots are a foothold
To a mainstay stem
That shoots arms so strong
To hold person and string

Rope and note in his bag
Dire fully, he scrutinizes it
Till he locates a stronger hand
Fit to send him to dead-land

Throngs are amassed, astounded
Officers seek for testaments
His loved ones are richly wailing
Now he's like a drooping ceiling

Staring Contest With the Ceiling

Sometimes I don't think at all
Nights like this having staring contests with the ceiling
I concentrate on the little sparkly bits in the vast field of white
The nothingness
  the lid to my Universe
Sometimes I want to rip it away
Leave myself exposed
For the elements to come pick the flesh off my bones 
 finish tearing me apart so that I don't have to
Not think at all
Put the lid back on when you're done

Ceiling Shadows

Two mismatched shoes lie
under the couch and one
behind the mahogany chair. 
One seems to be missing.

There are a watch and a phone
along with a pair of earrings
on the table beside the chair
and various items of clothing
here and there on the carpet.

A couple lies somewhat 
tangled in the midst of all,
looking up and talking about
shadows of the fan on the ceiling
and hugging and laughing.

Two people close and happy.
Now imagine who they are.
Twenty- or thirty somethings? 
Even forties maybe?

But no. They are late eighties
and early nineties, rediscovering
a portion of their youth that is
wondrously sweeter and more 
precious at this time of life.

Glass Ceiling Skies

Quote: When these corporal bodies of ours have blown away into  the wind like shredded ribbons loosed from a kite, towards glass ceiling skies we will fly, then go to a place where no one ever truly dies. 

Up in heaven the flowers are blooming softly and with great intent 
for God pitched a great big tent up there, for those who need it most 
No greater joy than to live for all eternity wrapped in His loving light  
Heaven, a place where even eagles say goodnight...

Up in heaven there is no war, no famine and no disease 
for love is the warrior that never ceases to exist 
and compassion is the gold ring of great, great mercy 
No safer place to be than in the Kingdom of God 
where Angels sing and trumpets blare 
and we are like rare porcelain to His eyes 

Heaven, a place where even butterflies say bye-bye.

Ceiling Fan

The lazy old   wooden fan
   worked   his tired arms
   twisting ‘round ‘n ‘round
Straining   against   the hot air
   trying to push   the room’s heavy
   layered heat   into motion.
 
The still air   resisted   
   hesitated  
   trapped   within flat walls
Dead air   suspended
   hanging it be 
   as stagnant
as were his   parting words.

Today   though he be gone,
the slow fan   blades   of his betrayal
   still turn ‘round ‘n ‘round,   
   wringing   my heart daily
His stuttering words   of good-bye
   cutting   more   deeply 
with each   turn of thought.

Now   I be nothing
   but a heavy   heat
   of   dead-ed air
Holding   the broken  
   of my stagnant 
   heart.

Sistine Ceiling Michelangelo

outstretched in space-
                                a fingertip touch of  God's grace

A Paid Carpenter Will Work

A carpenter for a clean job poised
And for a new ceiling I rejoiced.
Like soldiers' flag he did ceiling hoist,
His eyes of full true confidence moist...

A carpenter who knows a good joist
upon him you can't a bad one foist,
From afar would pick its sad fake smell,
Long before his hammer hits the nail.

The poised I had his price paid fully:
All that he'd asked for brought duly,
Pledge to not kill his time made truly;
Orders for his drinks given coolly.

A paid carpenter, I know, just works,
For if he does not his bottle corks.

Insomniac Ceiling

Why deep in the night do thoughts mimic the sky
Dark unknown sights fraught with cynical eye
Things seem burdened and heavy shut not to pry
Mourning for morning who levy stars 'fore they die

A quiet that echoes sounds downcast and alone
The riot of bygones too long past to atone
Midst of tosses and throws not last of unknown
Searching for coops so far away to be flown

Complications of this restless insomniac
Hoping to wake when the light has come back
Where heavy weight frightly shakes thrown off track
Beware restless mind state might start to unpack

What if's go unanswered by oblivious ceiling
It's blankness a bit rancid and not so appealing
Hypothetical questions in mind wide awake reeling
One of these minutes may I find restful feeling

The Ceiling Fan

In the summer heat it is best to have
In the bedroom it is good to have
A ceiling fan to cool the room 
On a humid summer day
When the season changes
The fan will be used
When the bedroom 
Is too hot
To get
Rest

The Glass Ceiling

The Glass Ceiling

She cracked the glass ceiling
shattering his world!

Clerihew Artemisia Glass Ceiling Breaker

A woman in a man's world was Artemiia Gentileschi
broke the glass ceiling to be free
She much to her famous pa did owe
but in her day ploughed her own furrow


https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artemisia_Gentileschi

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