Chamber Poems | Examples

My Hearts Chamber

Red ink 
bleeds 
through 
tissue walls

each ventricle 
a room 
I've carved
by beating.

Chambers of the Mind

In chambers of the mind, we store each day,
Each lesson wrapped in wonder, fear, or joy.
What matters most will never fade away.

The smell of chalk, the light at morning's ray,
First bicycle, first book, beloved toy
In chambers of the mind, we store each day.

Not facts alone, but how they came to stay:
The teacher's smile, the moment of deploy
What matters most will never fade away.

Through neural corridors, memories replay,
Some bright as copper, some we can't employ.
In chambers of the mind, we store each day.

The brain selects what's worthy of display:
Love, laughter, fear, emotions that employ
What matters most will never fade away.

So when we teach, we must find ways to weigh
Not just content, but context to enjoy.

In chambers of the mind, we store each day,
What matters most will never fade away.

Chamber of Becoming

We laid our breath
in the cold dish of morning
not to warm it,
but to watch it vanish.
The way ghosts do.

You struck the match inside me
with a tremor,
like forgiveness
forgot to be kind.

I was not born for light.
I was spilled
like ink across your undone name,
every letter twitching
like a fish on the wrong side of water.

You came in with no skin,
I gave you mine.
You left with it,
stitched to your memory
like a farewell garment.

Now I wander these ribbed corridors,
each echo a footstep
I never took.

Not dead.
Not quite.
Just learning
the shape of love
in an afterlife we invented.

If you'd like the next one,
our merged lament in even darker hues
I am ready. Just say, 
descend.

Gass Chamber

the bones are the first to know,
they hum a low dirge,
like a bass line in a dying bar,
deep under the skin’s slow retreat.

blood stumbles in the corridors,
loses its way in the veins,
tries to remember where it used to go.
the heart?
it forgets the beat,
like a drunk forgetting the name
of the woman he once begged for.

lungs collapse like cheap umbrellas,
breath rattles in
like pennies in a tin cup—
a wheeze, a whisper,
then nothing but
a waiting room silence.

and the soul,
if there is one,
it slips out the back
like it owes them all back rent.

Echo Chamber

     whispers faint traverse

     cobblestones… a continent... 
      
        echoing blood-red

The Echo Chamber

So, the glistening aim noticeably passes by,
So, the dangerous motion formidably goes by,
So, the unknown one remains unknown for the time being,
So, one is ahead of the petty singing. 

The one and only is good-natured and well-behaved,
He is favoured and well-blessed.
Though the great Guide is sacrificed, done and dusted,
The honest being is fit, fine, and well-crafted. 

The physical existence is going to be dealt with,
The mirrored organizations are going to vote for the myth.
The glass is going to be blurred by its connotations,
The pure man is defined by his situations. 

The window is becoming larger day by day,
The commentators are solitary soldiers in their own way.
The perception is becoming blinded,
The light is the only lie that is provided. 

Here, the perfect human is the representative of his species,
Here, he has grown up with his lengthy speeches.
Here, he is no longer unknown or unfeasible to catch,
And therefore, he has everything else to match.

Chamber

Dark fantasies ride glistening moonbeams through my chamber window.
They dance their strange ballet on cobwebs in the flickering candlelight,
before they abide among the dusty tomes.
The tapestries strain to muffle the sound of my breathing,
and the frantic scratching of my quill across the dry parchment.
The moon slowly retreats behind thick clouds,
and the moonbeams are pierced by raindrops until they fade.
The raindrops do their melancholy waltz on the sill,
as lightning drives the dark from every corner of my chamber.
I smile as the thunder awakens something deep within my soul.

Somewhere outside my chamber door, a heavy chain drags the floor.

chamber

locked without a key 
my heart is a love chamber 
closed for some repair

The Empty Room

The echo location                                                                                                                          finding the reverberating pin drop                                                                                                        a quite quiet juxtaposition                                                                                                                                            then becoming the sound within                                                                                                         The slowing beat of the heart                                                                                                                     The last blink heard then thoughts                                                                                                                  of a proverbial tree                                                                                                                     Pertaining to hearing                                                                                                                          when the soul leaves

Inner Chamber

Sanctum
Within the soul
Bedchamber once hidden
Curtain torn from top to bottom
Heaven

Date: 02/02/2024
Pick-A-Title, Vol. 41 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh

Chamber of Reflection

Let me think,
But only for a moment.
I’ll let time pass and move on,
As I think and figure out what the solution to all my problems are.
Could it be as simple as finding an incandescent person to call mine?
Or as brave as popping pills?
Either way, a change will be made.
And things will move on without me.
The sun will continue to fall asleep and wake up the world every day.
I know I am just a blip in the lives of others around me.
People will die, babies will be born.
I am just a number in a worldwide statistical pie chart.
So, let me think,
But only for a moment.
While time passes and people move on,
I’ll be here waiting to become content with myself,
In my chamber of reflection.

Twilight Chamber

The night inside me,
Anticipating heaven's light, 
The gloom in my chamber,
Awaiting the sun's rise.

Treasured are the halcyon days,
Gone in a way cloaked by time,
Memorable are the bouquet days,
Shrivelled by the dark hands of time.

Struggling and creating,
All go on the dismal way,
Sculpting and moulding,
The materials are obstinate.

Twilight holds sway,
Dawn is in a deep sleep,
I'm on a journey to glory land,
Even though it’s across the seas.


June 29, 2023.

My Personal Echo Chamber

I never let myself express my thoughts or feelings to others.
That'd be embarrassing.
Here, though, it's like my own personal echo chamber.
My thoughts go out
They bounce back to me
And no one's the wiser.
Not many read my poems.
Those that do are like ghosts.
Passing by with little more than a whisper of the wind
To show they were ever even there at all.
No one I know can read these.
No one I know can find out what I think or feel or want.
It's a comfort.
This space is safe from the prying eyes of non-strangers.
Here, I can speak without fear.

Never Again

It happened we know it did,
One culture virtually annihilated,
Why??????
For being different that's why,
One man blamed everything on them,
Thought of them as sub human,
Something to get rid off,
Spouting evil his tenticles reaching far and wide,
Others started to believe his evil,
They where shoved into ghettos,
Made to wear a yellow star,
It was not enough he wanted them dead,
Walked to pits and shot dead,
Shoved into cattle cars going to camps,
Left or right ment life or death,
Gas chambers at the ready,
Romani gypsies, homosexuals those physically and mentally disabled murdered too,
God why????
His name is well known,
Those murdered their names forgotten,
Prey to all the gods of the world ..... never again.

Last Chamber Empty

Illusion to who
or better to whom
the window opens shut
An image ingrained
 often betrays
a rose that’s long been plucked
The sun in the moonlight
darkness to burn
a promise made to none
Glory unproud
 its victory profane
—the truth an empty gun

(The New Room: April, 2021)

• Short Chamber Poems
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• Long Chamber Poems
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