Long Chambers Poems
Long Chambers Poems. Below are the most popular long Chambers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chambers poems by poem length and keyword.
I mark the time of our meeting by the still beat of my heart. Stroked by the momentary skip of the rhythm of it's chambers.
Unnerved I am frozen solid as seconds pass into minutes. Nothing moves or is released from me, not even my breath_ astonishing as it sounds… I still stand and I still live.
Even in this moment of dismay I exist neither to take nor to give_ only to simply exist as if existence is all that is needed. There, within the face of all faces I see a dream come true. True to life, true to hope. true to the wonders of a wish. As sure as a coin is tossed into a well_ I am captivated entranced by a spell.
Another minute has now passed before a shallow exhale escapes gaping lips. An exhale forced by nature totally without consciousness. For how can I think, how can I move my eyes to blink _blink- blink! No! nooo
I dare not, for fear you’ll go within a wink. Call your name I say softly now. Call his name as I have done time and again for we have repeated this a million times _ we have, me and you. In my dreams, in my mind, in my "Deja Vu"
A contrast between imagined beauty
When the moon kisses shadows of your feet
But these fantasies remain forever beyond reach
Dancing under starlight as they wink
The tints that glow from the stars of heaven
Crowning an angel in dreams
Drunken with moonshine smiles
I'm happy to get drunk on the smell of fresh roses
Intoxicating beauty swooning embrace
Sitting under a large umbrella with strawberry wine
One sip falling into those ruby lips
Melody and harmony that creates a song
Sings in the highest note a beautiful hypnotic tune
To create a quality of life that surpasses everyday living
You hold this heart and soul
Freely in another space
On our stunning journey
Within four chambers crowned
Impact at a much greater and more profound level
Queen of the night sky
Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :) 05.06.2015
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Hewn in verse and ancient lore,
It descends through an open door
To place its fingers on mortal souls,
On meager pleas on lifeless shoals.
Far below where creatures dwell,
Its surging scorn is born as rising embers swell.
Small shadows merge where thoughts collect,
And pierce the fog of day,
Murmured sounds rise to settle on unsympathetic play.
Cast aside each whimper lost within a chastening howl;
Hidden in burrows, mortals scurry
And feel the weight of worry.
Dark whispers mingle ravenous desires
From misty lofts in chambers forlorn,
From anvil thrones their cries adorn the morn.
From a heavenly palace, they scatter stones of malice;
Sparks of thunder pierce the night,
Then fade from sight.
Their cold embrace excites our race;
Unleashed hordes reap our toil,
And plunder our grace.
In the realm where shadows meet the light,
Truth stands strong, a beacon in the night.
It weaves through tales, both near and far,
Guiding souls like the northern star.
With unwavering eyes, it pierces the dark,
Unveiling secrets, igniting a spark.
No falsehood's veil can long endure,
For truth's pure essence remains secure.
In the echoing chambers of honest hearts,
It resonates, transcending all parts.
A mirror reflecting our deepest core,
In its embrace, we find so much more.
Though the journey may be steep and tough,
Truth's path is one that's always enough.
For in its arms, we find our way,
To brighter tomorrows from darkest today.
So let us treasure this precious gem,
In the world's chaos, a steadfast emblem.
With honesty's grace, our spirits soar,
In the timeless truth, we find evermore.
Woe to you… whitewashed tombs!
You glitter in gold vestments,
swing incense in marble cathedrals,
chant Latin like sacred thunder—
but your silence
is louder than the bells of Rome.
Tell me, O Holy See,
why must the holiest of seats
remain the coldest to change?
Where is the Pope with skin kissed by the sun?
Where is the Cardinal whose accent echoes Kilimanjaro,
whose spirit dances with the Ganges,
whose roots pulse from the Andes to Soweto?
Are we not also made in God’s image?
Your pulpits once whispered prayers—
now they echo with centuries of chains.
You spoke of Christ’s body, broken for us,
yet broke the backs of those
whose only sin was a different shade of skin.
You sold blessings to slave traders.
You baptized ships
that dragged our ancestors into the Atlantic grave.
You placed your cross on their bodies—
but never in their suffering.
And now we sit in your pews.
We kneel beside you.
We chant your hymns.
But we are ghosts
in your white cathedrals.
The black priest walks in shadow.
The Asian bishop stands in silence.
They serve, but are never seen.
They preach, but are rarely heard.
They are welcomed—
but not embraced.
You tell us Jesus is white,
blue-eyed and blond like your artists’ dreams—
yet he was born under a Middle Eastern sun.
You gave us Abraham and Jacob
but erased Shaka, Nefertiti, and Ashoka.
How can we see God in ourselves
if every image looks like you?
O Vatican,
you cannot hide behind stained glass forever.
The truth seeps through like sunlight—
slow, persistent, blinding.
We are not bitter.
We are broken.
We are not rebellious.
We are awakening.
And with every tear we shed in silence,
a pillar of your sanctuary begins to tremble.
This is not hate.
This is heartbreak.
The Body of Christ is global.
And every limb matters.
You cannot proclaim unity
while exiling our identity.
The day is near
when the roof shall split—
and the wind shall carry the voices of the forgotten
into your chambers of power.
We do not wish to destroy you.
We long to redeem you.
But redemption will not come
until you cleanse your heart
as much as your altar.
Remember: The Church is not white.
It is every child of God
crying for justice.
Even from within your own walls.
O aureate star of my undoing,
you rise beyond the reach
of mortal moderation~
a conflagration I once courted
with reckless, radiant hunger.
Your distant blaze beckoned me,
a fevered summons
to ascend past prudent counsel,
past the patient wisdom
of those who warned
that hubris has a heat
no wing can bear.
I felt your fire
before I ever touched it~
felt it flicker
in the fragile lattice
of my longing,
felt it whisper
through the wax-stitched seams
of my unsteady ambition.
Still I climbed,
angel-aching,
sky-struck,
drunk on the dizzying dream
of being seen
by something so incandescent.
Your light lured me upward,
a shimmering promise
that I could outfly fear,
outpace caution,
outshine the shadows
that clung to my quieter days.
I rose through the blue hush
of untested heights,
my heart a trembling engine
of want and wonder.
And you~
you burned with the beauty
of a thousand unspoken futures,
each one brighter
than the last.
But distance is a deity
with its own demands.
And you,
most distant sun,
kept your counsel
as I neared the threshold
where desire dissolves
into danger.
Your heat hardened,
your halo sharpened,
your brilliance blazed
beyond benevolence.
Still I reached~
still I believed
that yearning could rewrite
the laws of light.
The air thinned.
The wax wept.
The feathers faltered
in the furnace of your truth.
And I~
I felt the slow surrender
of every fragile filament
that had carried me
so far from sense.
My ascent unraveled
into a fall
I could not flee.
And in that molten instant
when the sky tore open around me,
I felt the world tilt~
felt the wind gather my name
as if it had been waiting
for me to remember
where I began.
I drifted downward
through a hush of cooling light,
the remnants of your fire
still trembling in my ribs.
No revelation,
no tidy reckoning~
only the soft recognition
that descent has its own
strange mercy.
And you, a most distant sun,
remain far beyond the reach
of my mortal grasp,
yet your radiance threads itself
through the chambers
of my becoming~
not as a lesson,
but as lingering brightness
I carry without claiming.
She sought the bright lights of the city and left love behind
She’s lost in a haze of self pity that’s making her blind
The money she’d stolen had carved her a path to her dreams
But the nightmares took over and laughter was smothered by screams
The handsome young face of a stranger with a girl on each arm
Belied all the darkness he harboured by the depth of his charm
Had left her there beaten and broken in the depths of despair
Now hungry she finds him again for her soul to lay bare
She waits every night at the doorway she now calls her home
Dulled is her fear and regret like a tear cast in stone
Lecherous eyes fall upon her ‘til night turns to day
Lost in the games of the lonely reluctant to play
The money she makes at her tade earns her clothes and a bed
Her savings are kept by the lover she’s promised to wed
Though some go to brighten or quicken the night-times demise
As night comes ‘round once again and she dons her disguise
Tomorrow’ll be better she Knows, Tommy loves her the best
“Those other girls don’t look like you” he says, changing his vest
“Baby you know you’re the one” as he feeds her her pills“
We just need a little more time, for our house on the hill”
Time passed her by, now only the memories survived
Dreams lie unravelled as the threads of her innocence died
All ties lay severed as yesterday fades out of reach
No hopeful tomorrows, she chambers a round in the breech
You're a maiden so hot burning thoughts
whom melts ice inside deep waves salted
unfolding ocean swells kissing your feet
For once spoke those hot lips the truth shining
Sunshine pleasing warm beholding to
one's eye golden crowned jewel beauty
rainbow luster coloring pearl treasure
It's giving off their beauty pure free
that does not require something in return
A lady whom pleases the heart warm
Princess cut with deep class sparkling pure
utopia's adorable sun rise
How the body is heated and hear
her echoing heart beat in the chambers
Shining a future path dreaming ore
every single moment precious links
each one spent with you falling under spell
Love is like pure sparkling magic gem
unpredictable true and marvelous
Magic silk covers batting eyelids
enchanting soft lovingly flowers
beautiful petals held within the shell
Let the rose live forever and the sun
shines always endless times glistening gold
Written by Liam Mcdaid and Anne- Lise Andresen
a co write in a 9/10 syllable count
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- Thank you my friend Liam !
Don’t say I never mentioned it— you are conscious of this
I spoke through, with every edgy glance about the matter.
Why in the hearts of many, I am painted wrong,
While you are a saint in their eyes, cheered in every sight.
And this we are deeply aware, and that in the chambers of truth,
We’re both persuaded who carved the cracks on my smile.
You mastered my dislikes and made them your routines,
Pretending to care, yet feasting on my pain.
All my provisions you never lagged in using again
When I brought ideas, that sends us farther from now,
You turned away without a word on the essence of the view,
A shocking silence much louder than frills of deceit.
So never once did my picture stalled on screens you scroll,
And I wonder what name did bloom in your bosoms.
Perhaps I became a mistake you lacked the courage to undo,
So beneath my trust, you quietly worked against me
Everytime I return to my self I weep my state not precise on details—
Indeed faithfulness was never to you, granted as a gift
Yet though God calls me first, I’ll carry no envy,
Only perhaps the ache of watching you mourn falsely—
Pointing at my portrait upon the wall, my name upon your lips,
As though you had ever regarded my state or felt my pain.
Ultimately, delete my album, yet let the children choose what to keep;
If not for them, I was gone long before your silence began.
The dark comes often.
The dark comes free.
It leaves behind an early morning frost.
I’m a rogue scholar and a rank philosopher,
A rounder playing drunken gypsy songs.
Got a tidy pension and a place to live.
I keep a sexy violinist on the side.
The dark comes heavy.
The dark comes cold.
It chills the empty chambers of my heart.
I take the down slope on the backside.
I’ve always been attracted to the low life.
Might’ve gone to college, might’ve been to school,
But there’s no glass ceiling on the floor.
The dark comes early.
The dark comes deep.
It drains the very color from the world.
I live alone, but I’m in bed with a cruel mistress.
Spiky and hard, she stabs the fabric of my nightmares
Till I scream in ecstasy from the thrill,
Then thank myself for being so evolved.
The dark comes easy.
The dark comes fast.
It drops the final curtain on the day
.
The dark’s in you.
The dark’s in me.
We share the same perversion of the soul.