Long Chamber Poems
Long Chamber Poems. Below are the most popular long Chamber by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chamber poems by poem length and keyword.
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It was all my fault...
I almost ruined our lives with a foolish decision but in answer to my prayer
you listened to my remorseful contrition, and still you wanted a life to share
and then you...
soothed my soul of its deepest gashes, rid me of the weight of guilt and despair
gently lifted me from the pit of ashes and softly whispered, "I'll always be there."
You healed me...
from numbness - restored my feeling, in my dark chamber you gave me light
your love was a source of healing. I promise you, this time I'll get it right.
To me you are....
the laughter awakening my very soul - as the sun bestirs the day
the innocent one, offering your hand to hold. This time I'll not pull mine away.
When I hear...
your voice it caresses my senses as the moon arouses the stars each night
you say, "I love you." you give me wings to soar a great height.
You forgave me...
that's not something I deserve, yet you offered it without hesitation
I'll hold back nothing in reserve, our marriage is worthy of salvation.
I am sorry...
It's my fault that we fell apart, but I'll take away your pain and sorrow
erase the shadows I left on your heart and bring happiness with each tomorrow.
The first time I met Madame La Laurie, was in 1832 When she and her third husband (Dr. Louis La Laurie) purchased me. My first impression of Madame La Laurie was that she was soft spoken, of fine breeding, and very beautiful.
Upon her arrival, she wasted no time filling every nook and cranny at 1140 Royal Street with the finest furniture and china that money could buy. No one looking at the plain exterior of this house, would ever expect such opulence within it walls.
She wore the latest fashions from Paris with a flare beyond rival, even by the most inducted social lights of the hour, which did not go unnoticed. Both men and women, would stop in their tracks to gaze upon this regal beauty as she strolled down the main streets of New Orleans.
Soon, with the aide of her husbands connections through his practise, she, gained acceptance into the higher circles of the community and began hosting what would become, the most sought after dinner invitations in all of New Orleans.
This was the one side of Madame La Laurie that the world saw, but it was I, who bore witness to the other side. NEVER could anyone have ever imagined the atrocities this women committed in her chamber of horrors on the 3rd floor as she maimed, tortured and murdered any slave that displeased her.
~~~
I was burned badly, when one slave, wanting to end his misery, set a fire in the kitchen, finally bringing her reign of terror to and end, where upon she fled in her hell driven carriage, into the night, never to be seen again.
Today, I stand here at 1140 Royal street, completely unrecognizable. I have a different face now. The only thing left one would recognize from that day, would be the old path that runs between me and the adjacent house.
Lush green foliage now grows along its edge, in what I like to think, a remembrance to the tortured souls who died here.
Between these brick walls
Bright light filters from above
Old seeds bloom again
BUT...IF YOU DARE to walk between these walls, you...like me, THAT OLD HOUSE IN NEW ORLEANS, might see the apparitions of the tortured souls still residing there.
~~~
Poetry form: Haibun
For the contest, A House In New Orleans, sponsor, Lin Lane
PLACED SECOND
The golden hues scatter, they age, stepping softly into the twilight,
Velvet angels of summer falling, amid leaves seeking the calm of the earth,
Gardens of grapes, unripened purple gems, with sweet blood untouched by sun,
And I, the armorer of autumn, forging upon it, an armor of remembrance.
Beneath the emerald vault, ephemeral stories breathe their last,
In a twilight of oblivion where migratory thoughts seek shelter,
And your gift, the quintessential fruit that has burst the day's attire, ripening just upon the slope,
In my palm becomes art unfolding, the verses defining their purpose.
A masterful lied flows through my veins, melting the forests of words,
Transforming corrupted poetry into a creature of ice that moans beneath the sun's trails,
Descend, angel, into this citadel of emotion and sign the pact, to be united,
To taste, to feast on the sweetness of your evening, under the cloak of stars of the anonymous night.
Pale wings, torn by longing, dissolve their song in the pain of the silence that follows,
Time, harsh judge, stretches forth its edict, designates my sentence,
With your aroma, your autumnal flush of pulp, with an undefined fleshly scent,
In the celebration of falling fruits, I bedeck my condemnation in ecstasy.
I will pluck you, a perpetual harvest in the chamber of my thoughts,
From you, I receive autumn, as an invitation into the palace where nectar is king,
In nights when constellations, one by one, slowly dim their lights,
Signing the sky of night, gliding across your body, weaving the ineffable magic of poetry.
Carpe diem.
Life can turn on a dime.
One moment you may be engrossed in a book and the next,
it's as though time...Time slips away, taking with it your imagination and civility.
Time steals your identity.
It fractures under the daily stresses.
Life....., OH life! It totally depresses.
You stand on an icy pond, frozen... sub zero temperatures.
Then suddenly it cracks beneath your feet, it ruptures.
You try to hold on, before long..... you're gone!
The cold, inviting-biting all the way to your very core.
All of your memories good and bad begin to soar.
Your last breath, your lungs filled with filthy pond water.
You sink down deeper and deeper, nothing else matters.
The last thoughts you pondered.
-What could I have done differently?
-What other options were there?... taking all precautions.
I have tried to see it through others eyes.
But linger the questions; what, where and why?
Carpe diem is a word many say.
When karma decides to have her own way.
Like a serpent, in the night!
Large enough to devour you, she may strike.
It is time that enslaves us all.
Good or bad, big or small.
Each decision made. Each word spoken.
A gift, a journey, a trial, lives stolen.
We may feel as though we are protected.
But the system is set, your minds redirected.
We live in the matrix. A maze, just like mice.
Derived, deprived. A roll of the dice.
Have you ever Russian Roulette?
One bullet in the chamber, cocking the gun. Life's regret.
With each and every breath you take.
Remember and know what's at stake.
Do on to others as you wish done to you.
Because the frozen pond is your life, it can crack too.
With all seriousness set aside.
Life and time, a wild ride.
Always remember karma may come.
Do on to others as you want done!
~mp (copyright protected )
Your priceless words still sit in my heart,
Your voice resonates in my mind,
They're the happiness I find
as I sojourn along life's weary lane,
I follow their guiding light.
The memory of our evening walks is my keepsake,
An ode to it I desire to write,
Your smiles linger in my chamber
despite your years of slumber,
An evening walk I have found to be a healing stream.
Your silence has taught me that
the unheard breaks dawn's ice,
It has taught me that
the unspoken traverses untold mileage,
I now understand
why you sometimes routed that way,
I now understand
why you embraced the face of its sunlight.
I'm forever grateful for your tutelage,
You held my hand from cradle age,
Though our time together was short,
The memories are forever treasured,
These I'll bear across the seas of my sojourn.
April 28, 2023.
"I did not expect death to knock on my door.
Now I keep it securely locked." ~ by poet
I bade the knocker at my door, "Please come in."
The visitor to my home, whoever it might've been
But frigid air left a chilly atmosphere in the room
The hand of fate entered; I heard the voice of doom
I sensed my end was near as it swiftly approached
Across my dwelling's threshold, death encroached
Its icy breath etched frost upon my window panes
Blood seemed to stop flowing within my frail veins
Death's wildling wind pelted its anger on my roof
My fear of it climbed higher as I cowered in reproof
Huddled in a corner, horror mounted and spurred
This room was the chamber where I'd be interred
How foolhardy of me to leave my door unlocked
I shouldn't have bid welcome when death knocked
Every gliding step its darkness took in my direction
subdued my will until I could not raise an objection
Terror compelled me to curse what my fate now bore
I should've run when hearing the knock on my door
Demonic eyes searched mine with a look of disdain
Out the door it flew, but my fright will long remain
She creates her world at night,
Her mind becomes a beacon of light,
Illuminating the dark corners of her mind.
She sees beyond her surroundings,
And in the stillness of the night,
The universe within her emerges,
She scripts these mysteries.
He crafts his art in a dimly lit room,
His mind flourishes in this ambience.
The designs emerge from the shadows,
Like a blooming meadow at dawn.
He sketches these creations,
And then they come to life.
I am a child born of the union of the two,
Two worlds dwell within me.
Sometimes I become a turbulent sea,
I create my realm at any time,
As long as it is an endearing clime,
Mysteries linger in my chamber,
And sometimes the unseen walks into my slumber.
She is gifted yet sometimes troubled by her abilities;
He is skilful and dutiful, yet haunted by the tendrils of the night.
I am a skyward architecture of the first and a budding of the second.
At times, I traverse strange pathways,
Together, we seek redemption.
August 30, 2025.
Minnis Downhome Pharmacy has reopened its doors.
They're not afraid because of the tragedy that happened before.
When those four innocent people were shot, it was a damn shame.
I'm glad they've reopened but without Stephen as the pharmacist, it won't be the same.
Stephen's widow has reopened the pharmacy to continue her husband's dream and I don't blame her.
The deranged maniac who shot Stephen and the others will most likely get the gas chamber.
Minnis charged my mom less than forty dollars for her Risperdal.
Walgreens asked four hundred for the same medicine and Mom was appalled.
Minnis cares more about people than profit, that's why some of their meds are cheaper.
People are getting their meds there again because that pharmacy is a keeper.
(Dedicated to Stephen Lovell, Richard Sommerville, Alexia Wilson and Janet Clift who were shot on May 23, 2013.)
I have found my voice
at humanity’s eleventh hour
I have found my voice because
I called upon humanity’s wisdom
and asked if I can help to deliver
to you
some units of joy
and lessons of love
so I ask you to hear humanity's inevitable lovesong
ancient
humble
soothing
And deliver me
deliver us
deliver me
on the days Jefferson spoke of inalienable rights
deliver us into that night of human liberation
when czars were overthrown and utopia envisioned
deliver me on the day Martin had his dream
deliver us on the day Paris’ commune became community
deliver me
deliver us
I say deliver me
And deliver us
Because without the us
there is no me
And without the me
There is no us
humanity’s struggle
constant argument between
Me
And
Us
The me and the us
Were at
Lexington Concord
Gettysburg
St. Petersburg
Stalingrad
Omaha beach
Paris, Prague, and Mexico in 1968
Tianenmen Square in 1989
And Occupy Wall Street
The me and the us
Are at kitchen table
Deciding whose childhood is spared
The me and the us are at
Parliaments all over the world
Deciding whose life is worthwhile
The me and the us are at the UN
Deciding which nations are worthwhile
The me and the us
History has been about the me and the us
History’s first experiment in liberation
Stalin and world interrupted, still insisting on the me
so I ask you, humanity
I implore you
In the name of so many terrified faces
In the name of so many torture chamber places
I ask you here and now
At humanity’s eleventh hour
brink of armaggedon's world war
to
Deliver me
And deliver us
Deliver us from humanity's dark night
let the children and future generations breathe
freedom's air
Deliver me
Deliver us
Deliver me
Deliver us.
Our convergent joint
The rallying point
Mecca to the Pastors and Sisters
Jerusalem to the “Alhajas and Alfas”
Refuge to the weak
Shield to the strong
Nowhere on campus like our building
Life made more lively
Added life to the lifeless
Ever enliven to light up a dead soul
Restore spirit to the soulless body
Nowhere on campus like our
World Trade Centre
Goods and services are synchronized
Prizes are greatly subsidized
To augment sense of belonging to our belongings
No wonder, young and old ones throng in and out
For more copies of pieces of paper
Scrupulously they stay glued to
Modern screen for good job
Ours is the biggest edifice in Nigeria
Ours is the best in Africa
Ours is amongst the best in the world
Swimming pool completes the unparallel
Beautiful scenery that I behold every
Midnight that I lay my head on the
Cushion to cushion the tedious effect
Incurred in my sojourn on campus
Twenty four hours was for
Wisdom chicken and chips
A delicacy prepares with wisdom
Which often times leaves Couples off wisdom
As they whisper pouring out farrago of lies
Unto each others hearing
In a latter day hobo’s manner
Like a Romeo in the world of a Juliet
Savoring the dishes
Drinking all drinkable and all gulp-able
Browsing and dancing to the
Rhythm of Yahoo and “Aluta” gyration
Ours was unarguably the best
Our building clad a chamber
Where the Honourables meet
Where ideas and views are chewed
Where political and cerebral jaw jaw are cross fertilized
Where rhetoric and oratory seed are swallowed
Where we read and blessed with “8 points”
Where we digest skills to become splendid
Managers of human and material resources
Our library is incomparable in quantity and quality of materials
All these before they came
They came, they vandalized
They came, they destroyed
They came, they extorted
They came, they collected and replaced for man
Receipt of hopelessness and anguish
They came . . . killed the spirit
They came . . . gauged the soul
They came . . . stole the body
But . . .
Like the Son of Man
The spirit will rise again
Like an “Ayekoto” bird
The gauged soul will escape and fly away
Like the Biblical Zion
The stolen body will be returned
And restored for better glory.
Alayande Stephen Tolulope
August 12th 2005
4.00am
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