Lights Are On Poems - Poems about Lights Are On

That’s not the light you're seeking. Words cannot live with your brain all lit up like that. Let those dark parts of your body, those body-prayers mostly ignored, gift to you a poem. Most of your better images are born in that low-grade radiance of flesh and bone. After the glow you can fill in the gaps but not too much or you’ll cover up what you should...

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By whose command do thoughts arise in mind? Wherefrom arises the breeze of intent? Who lights the lamp of love, to make heart kind? What’s the source of the force for soul’s ascent? Mind of mind, eye of eye and ear of ear, is verily God, Who dwells in our heart, immediate, intimate and so near, recognised when bliss ignition does start. Sense...

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When you leave, turn the lights off— It matters not to me, For I am the last subtraction From the sum of humanity. The stars have blinked their final light, Planets turned to dust, The galaxies collapsing inward— Even silence starts to rust. Religion is a dim memory, A ghost caught in black holes, A story written long ago To comfort frightened souls. There are no children...

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Sitting in my old armchair By the open loggia door Am I here, or back there Where I’ve been before? In the stilllness of the night Sounds of racing cars Mingle with the distant light Of the faded stars I look out into the dark Little lights around Cannot put on me the mark Of this foreign bound Its a saddest joke, this land...

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Written: July 4th, 2025, for Brian Strand *********** r e f l ...

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One, Two, Three, Four... Shadows crawl in hope of escape. Five, Six— Interrupting thoughts and fear demand attention. “Hello, I'm here.” The mind cowardly answers the call. Life unhinges — unlocking the greed of depression. The door opens, welcoming the darkness into the house with no lights. Allowing the destruction to flood centre stage. No spotlight needed. He's strong, surrounded by the blackness. He's seen. He's heard. He's felt— He's home. His...

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Conformity Is Little Solace When You Lose Your Place In The: Life Form Race. *** When...

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In the city of diffuse lights, the young carry their dreams like transparent cloaks, With souls hungry for desires and unfulfilled quests, running through glass labyrinths, Trying to quench their thirst with offerings of life that sparkle but are hollow to the touch, Between the shelves of existence, where cheap illusions are wrapped in attractive colors. They seek nourishment...

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Northern lights, painted From nature's hand, brushstrokes of The celestial sky...

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On the fourth day, light was made, Sun and moon in skies displayed. Stars that sparkle, sunsets so bright, Rainbows painted in muti-colour light. Because of light, we see and know, Creation’s beauty in full glow. Life and light in union stay, Their bond unbroken day by day. He who said, "I am the light," Now dwells within our hearts so bright. He came to...

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Let the brief time be cast away, Let the movable thread be loosely handled, Let the shadow be cast on you, Let the water flow over the distant edges. But when you know you’ll never get the wanderer back, Even as you cast him off, When you tally the drifters, They’re all misplaced and undone. The Moirai will let him go, Because, you know, You...

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I have been deceived all this while, By all the angels cloaked in a dear disguise. 'Follow the way of light, my child, ' they all cooed, For they knew too well I was never shrewd. Off I went, probing for those lights, Something to put an end to my wakeful nights. But manipulation, oh my dear, Sounds sweeter when it is...

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You and I have been friends for many moons You and I have played together countless afternoons Not to mention many mornings and many nights. Since today is your birthday, I want to send you: kaleidoscopic lights Multiple dancing rainbows of heaven, exotic flowers And warm hugs and I’ll blow fresh new kisses from afar to your ears. I called you...

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In their formative moments artists live alone Sharing themselves only when the pain has dulled In corners of dark musings their spirit’s hide Calling out whenever the lights go down — and the rush is gone (The New Room: May, 2025) ...

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first night— the soul’s fringe still shining hazily the last night— as though knowing time has come morning comes— a firefly spends all its light ...

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