Long Electric light Poems
Long Electric light Poems. Below are the most popular long Electric light by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Electric light poems by poem length and keyword.
The opalescence of the early morning light flows over everything
It touches over ever leaf, every tree, every exposed part of her skin
She stares at the sky as the dawn breaks
It shines brighter and brighter
The dew illuminated with the power of the sun
Everything around buzzes with the recharge of a new day
Everything but her
Volatile thoughts burrow through every cell
Leaving her empty filled only with the brisk sweet air
White knuckle grip on the rusty swing slowly creaking in the breeze
Time stops for a moment as the birds go quiet and the squirrels hold their breath
The silence was deafening so she screams
She screams out every breath she has ever taken-
She screams with every ounce of strength left in her-
She screams out all the sorrows, all the pains, all the contradictions
Gasping relieved from the build of feminine rage
She sobs out the anguish of unrealistic self expectation
She sobs in quiet determination to feel better or at all
She sobs to release the leash wrapped around her heart which keeps her tied to poise
Sighing she breathes deep even breathes of the fresh morning air
In and out
In and out
She breathes in the peaceful calm of the perfect morning
She breathes in self reflection of her beauty
She breathes in lost ideals of enoughness
She breathes out the snide backhanded comments
She breathes out the monstrous detrimental molds that she’ll never fit into
She breathes out the self hatred and regret and loathing
Stilling she looks around for the first time since she laid down and clung hopelessly to the swing
She smiles taking in the pink and purple watercolor sky
She smiles noticing the slight breeze ruffling the viridian leaves
She smiles as the the electric light beams which zap through the tree branches-
They dance around the ground and all over her body in waves
For the first time in a long time she remembers herself
She remembers herself more than just a woman
She remembers herself more than just a sister or a daughter
She remembers herself more than just a friend or a lover
She remembers herself below the depression and angst
She remembers herself as a person internally whole
She had forgotten her inevitable strength
She vows to never forget herself again
Standing in the warmth of the spring sun-
She laughs
Natural soporific narcotic
Recurrent suicidal thoughts
vaingloriously wend along winding road
within windmills of my mind
(o'er a death cab for cutie weeknd)
yakking, yanking, and yawking zeal
becalming this crash test dummy rolling
stone temple pilot inxs
of maroon 5 plus decades long
perdition hellaciously slogging
slow as adam and the ants,
thru fifty shades of gray's
anatomy common weal
masterly baiting this motley crue (cutting),
beatles browed, beastie boy,
foo fighters kickstart new edition
quickening reo speedwagon treadwheel
outre gee (bee) us, grateful dead,
mailer daemons inhabit
cavernous fist size vastness steel
via herbie hancock (hermans hermits)
cheesy munster trap doors that steal,
deep purple swiftly tailored
culture club members squeal
hosted by megadeth
pack rat boston for real
venue at tokyo hotel,
via en grave invitation
signed by alice in chains poison huss kiss
sing, which will spellbind
once contents unveiled,
an instant jane's addiction peal
immediately choking off air supply
then alice cooper egging bad company
to hypnotize the guess who sacrificial meal
supplanting raw
primal scream from spinal tap
acquiescing self to abandon all hope,
especially if black sabbath joins
creedence clearwater revival
dark shadows would demand one
(to take a knee) and kneel
before sacrificing oneself
at the beck and call
of evanescent nirvana
experiencing permanent relief,
sans soul (twisted) sister riding a hansom
off phish hull heart shaped coffin
ample room enough for blind
melon collie 10,000 maniacs,
their healing powers profusely emanating
via m&m shaped talking heads
methinks averring obeisance
to judas priest and hooters
with metallica linkedin with mötley crüe
coldplay feeling of eternal sleep,
where quiet pussy riot
joins carpenters, whose underground
bunker with golden arches
resembles empyreal
heavenly vault wreathed soundgarden
with electric light orchestra
sepulchral crowded house indicative
cynthesis iz done on a green day,
whereat dizzy gillespie afterlife deal
and you bet your sweet bippy meme,
an extra bonus for orthodox believers
(absent myself - a skeptic),
whose karma credit Suisse
with long deceased meatloaf
with soul asylum and heart to anele!
A light mist of ethereous rain falls
silent on his thin, sharp-angled
face. He lengthens his stride and
leans toward the wind. He walks
through plundered poverty; crumbled
by the weight of exodus. Abandoned
to the blood-rough nails scratching
on the concrete diasporas of multiethnic
history.
Past the playground echoes of PS #59,
as they drift along the faded asphalt
haze of time. Echoes still ring true with
elemental bones of hope: the children
break out and through gunmetal gray,
graffiti covered doors, outside to the
saturated heat of inner-city rage.
Past gothic orthodox cathedral
mausoleums which sit like ancient
stoics and stare through burnt-amber,
azure, crystalline-blue stained glass
eyes; focused out with a kernel of
eternal mustard seed hope: souls will
come again and warm the sacred pews.
Past the Puerto Rican market
where the pig's head led the
carnivore parade of mastication
promise every day. A meat-market
window of letted-blood and death
reminiscent of Amsterdam whores
with their wares on display for the
dead-eyed stares of the men outside.
He comes to the dust and
grime of an empty lot covered
by old and broken concrete slabs.
He stops and lets his mind drift
back to watch a woman who wears
a ratted fox-tail wrap around her
neck. She holds a long, un-filtered
cigarette, loose, between her two
bright, fuchsia painted lips. She
wears a black velvet hat with veil
to her nose and a straight black
dress that flows below her knees,
mid-calf, above her shiny black,
high-heel, patent leather shoes.
He can almost see through the blur
of a chiaroscuro choreography his
mother, visiting with the Kazakhstan
neighbors, in this dreamlike memory.
The multi-plexed, subsidized project,
where he was born, once stood just
beyond his vision of a mother's visit in
high-heel, indigo, tangerine, sibilant
sounds; lit with electric light smiles
of denial.
She would hold her cigarette between
fuchsia lips and wear that ratted fox-tail
wrap until the cancer cough began to spew
Chesterfield blood on the molted fox-tail
head of her beloved fur.
Then she went to bed. Went to sleep. And died.
Pigeons cooed quietly on that New York City night.
Last night, in a dream of magnitude
the airport caught my footsteps in steel and tunneled walls
The lava buzz behind me filled me up with a certain impatience
and my sweet subconscious sifted through a thousand fired tongues
until it rested on the resonance of one lost in time: yours.
Immediately, my response was one of sleep perfection
while the dream delayed my thoughts and dragged them
like flowing rivers on either side of the metal extravaganza
the airport staff was selling gadgets in colors yet unheard of
and the plane I had to catch was carrying me to my own reality show
and while you slid on behind me, catching your own planes to fill your backpack
living lives I never stepped in, laughing, breaking hearts with ease
I somehow knew to stop the flow, to turn around and bend the time
'till my face met your own in kind and we broke all our years of silence
How come dreams never age their subjects?
No wrinkles on your brow, hair in black and rivers shining
smiling with your electric light which runs through every vein.
I immediately linked my arm in yours, head in the crook of your neck
and through this touch we sent every bit of history lost between us
Pulling me into an airport staff cubby, where the colors still stayed my eyes
you gave me numbers to memorize which would somehow reunite us again
when time wasn't forcing us in opposite, unyielding directions.
I tried to tell you my memory was terrible and I didn't understand how this would work
but you had no address in my dream, and somehow neither did I.
After all, the reality show I was flying toward was going to be never ending and
since I was the guest, it wasn't appropriate to receive mail.
My dream swept me past you then, but not before filling the room with love
and feeling complete in the seeing of you, the knowledge of the lack of wear
time's had on us, our connection still brighter than the baubles, the trinkets
of penitence around so many necks of so many so-called friends.
I woke this morning with a desperate yearn to remember lost numbers
with their significance failing me, infused with yet another reminder that
dreams are only cathartic while you are dreaming
and they pack a heaving bite when you wake to dissipation.
songer.co/song/r8btoho3abg0psszqle86vkb
[Verse 1]
Girl, I’m caught between the thrill and the fall,
Your shadow’s tracing cracks across my wall.
Electric hum beneath my skin,
Addicted to the mess I’m in.
[Pre-Chorus]
Whispers call me higher, but I grip the rail,
Chasing sparks that flicker — I can’t bail.
Every heartbeat’s a quiet fight,
Lost inside your soft, electric light.
[Chorus]
Acrophobia, yet I’m chasing the highs,
Hands shake — I cross your flashing warning signs.
You lift me like a fading light,
One more sip, but you’re still not mine.
No parachute, no soft landing hand,
Your love’s a wave I don’t understand.
Floating fast, breath held, knuckles white,
Acrophobia — still climbing tonight.
[Verse 2]
Late nights fade into the blue,
Scrolling through the silence, thinking of you.
Caught your new song on some late-night stream,
Is that me in the video, or just a dream.
[Pre-Chorus]
Whispers call me higher, but I grip the rail,
Chasing sparks that flicker — I can’t bail.
Every heartbeat’s a quiet fight,
Lost inside your soft, electric light.
[Chorus]
Acrophobia, yet I’m chasing the highs,
Hands shake — I cross your flashing warning signs.
You lift me like a fading light,
One more sip, but you’re still not mine.
No parachute, no soft landing hand,
Your love’s a wave I don’t understand.
Floating fast, breath held, knuckles white,
Acrophobia — still climbing tonight.
[Bridge]
No twelve-step for this kind of sky,
Cold sweats can’t make me say goodbye.
You’re the rush I fear, the fall I crave,
The steepest climb — still I misbehave.
[Chorus]
Acrophobia, yet I’m chasing the highs,
Hands shake — I cross your flashing warning signs.
You lift me like a fading light,
One more sip, but you’re still not mine.
No parachute, no soft landing hand,
Your love’s a wave I don’t understand.
Floating fast, breath held, knuckles white,
Acrophobia — still climbing tonight.
[Outro]
The higher I go, the harder I fall,
Your electric touch is my favorite thrall.
Caught in this loop, I won’t say no,
I’m high on the fear, so let’s go.
Note: This song is an echo to the ultra popular “Expresso” hit, from the guy’s point of view.
In the great Old Grove forests
Perry, Sayva, Diamond, and Jack
Went out and built this tree house
A fine little tree house
It had a ladder, it had a few windows
It had a little garden they built
The garden full of fresh mulch
Smelling like spiced wood and peppered dirt
In it grew mushrooms
Great beautiful mushrooms
Even The Crow Club paid good money for these mushrooms
The mushrooms were blue, round, as big as a human head
Some others were pink like a birthday balloon
Or blue like pine fire smoke
They grew and sold many other plants
They grew tobacco of all types
They grew purple leafs
They grew sea foam sunflower
They grew great green ones
And a few other funguses and mosses
Southern sand moss
Eastern tree rot
And northern Gaviran puddle flower
All was great to sell or taste
On one day, as a rainstorm thundered on
The group stayed in their treehouse
They smoked from pipes or rolled paper
They ate from jars of peaches and pears
They bit into juicy green apples
All while they reclined on pillows
Their fingers weighed down on fuzzy blankets of fur
And like that old stump pilgrim story about “The night before Yuletide”
Visions of everything good, danced inside their skulls
Imaginings of birds
Big birds, not like the birds they sold to in their kingdom
There were brown vultures that smelled like brown sugar
And you could ride them
You could speak with old extinct seals
Their bones the color of freshly pulled teeth
Fingers and knee caps became numb as the time passed
As paintings never seen before were everywhere in the treehouse
Paintings in the eyes, brush strokes on the skin
An invisible painter, the smell of clay and paint chemicals
Prayers to The Frog and The Loon heard in each ear
Electric light outside
Perfect smoke under the nose
Dry mouth from breathing too much
Still sweet from eating too much
Relaxed until it will all go back
Back to what it was
But it can be done again
All you need is a garden
Some leafs
And a treehouse
ELECTRIFICATION OF UDELNAYA MARKET
Thank goodness
New glass steel towers are cleaning up the mess
Of Udelnaya market. Traffic was too fast *
Street is pedestrianised and bypassed
Bright lights are lit and a secret lover
Can no longer be met under the dark trees cover.
5:30 pm and the cherry girl is no more
Only her wooden stall and empty boxes at the door
Near the musicians in the street
Still slowly tapping their feet
The off-key folksinger (bit of an alcohol smell)
And the old lady who can sing on key and well.
Chinese tee-shirts selling for 40 roubles in a paper packet
In glass steel shops are 400 (in cellophane jacket).
The knife man is gone, with his machetes, kukris,
Bayonets , hunting knives, switchblades, bowies,
Now it’s a telephone shop
Buy anything with only a five minute stop.
The little café run by the Tadjiks *
Where you’d get real piping-hot shashliks
Is now a computer store
And there’s going to be more.
The steam baths are closed, no hot and cold sprays
And DVD players are on sale there( 20% off always).
Floating up still is a child’s balloon
From the toy stall, to be burst soon -
Spiked to death on the microwave antenna tower
Which delivers such telephonic power.
Traffic thundered past in concentrations
Drowning out conversations
In the tiny kiosk where I used to find
Dresses for my wife - just the right kind.
All this chaos is almost gone (thank goodness)
Muddy in the summer, in winter icy-treacherous.
Steel and glass windows reflect the bright
And penetrating electric light.
5:45 and it’s almost closing time.
…………………………………………………
NOTE
*Udelnaya is a colorful older district in inner St. Petersburg, which had an extensive and hugely interesting market, including all sorts of goods, new and second hand, where a great deal of haggling and general chit chat took place. Now sadly being redeveloped.
*Tadjiks are people from Tadjikistan, one of the former republics in the USSR. Many Tadjiks live and work in St. Petersburg. Their cuisine is exotic and tasty.
OBE
I never really believed in the white light
At the end of a tunnel-try as I might
I was having a laugh with the anaesthetist
When the surgeon did ask him for a quick assist
“Why is she not asleep yet? I heard him ask
She is used to the pre-meds, don’t worry this is my task.
After many bouts of surgery over the years
I was hard to knock out but I still had my fears.
I loved the sleep anaesthetic does give
The dreams are so wonderful and so real and vivid.
This one was different I remember it well
I was sat very high up looking down I could tell
There was a lot of commotion below me that I could see
There were bells ringing and flashing lights and then I saw me
Wow this is weird how am I lying there but here I was looking around
I could not believe it a white light did surround
I was laughing and thinking this can’t be real
Nobody sees a white light never mind tries to feel
It surrounded me and I felt it, I now wasn’t to sure
I had never seen anything like it before
On top of the electric light that was below
I saw the dust sitting on it even with the bright glow
Then there was calm and things did quite down
There was a rushing in my ears but no other sound.
A voice came to me and said “Come on now wake up”
A tap on my cheek and I felt them pull the pipe up
I coughed and she smiled,” it’s all over now
We are glad to see you, you don’t know how.”
When I awoke they were standing round my bed
One nurse I knew said “We thought you were dead”
Charming said I, why what went wrong?
“Your heart did stop beating, but now it is strong.”
I wondered what had happened I was watching you all
No you cannot have been, don’t say that, that tale is to tall
I told them of the alarms the beeping and coloured lights
I was watching from above, seeing what I might
They smiled at me with an indulgent look
But I know what I saw so they can put that in their book.
Well it's taken a wretched amount... out of time
I'm pretty sure I lost myself and I lost my mind
It's like time to nothings was given
Nothing was needed but my living room and my cell phone
I don't think I rose at the normal time
nor did I to sleep at the normal time
nor did I eat at a normal time
Nor exercised as I might have
nor did what I used to do in anyway
I lost all desire to do the work that I had loved
My passion for it was gone
My interest in anything but one was gone
Time stood still
I sat in the same chair everyday
I did the same thing everyday
None of the pressures and the demands of life
could get to me in anyway
I just sat in the chair and I did what I did online
It sounds as if it I was falling
down down down into the rabbit hole
But really it was a spiritual experience
that no one else will ever have
Miracles happen
the inexplicable things that can never be told
and never be explained
It was not a time of loss
It was a time of tremendous gain
Some things can never be lost and some things never gained unless you walk in those shoes That can never be explained
It was time and time again in an Eden of love and loss
I was Persephone
Perhaps driven by Covid's hell down under
But in this story, Persephone rises all by herself back up to light
and she becomes a part of the tree of life
Fighting stretching longing for water reaching her roots deep down into the Earth that she came from
into the dark.
She brings truths to the lights and bursts forth in leaves
of a 5,000 colored tree
This is the new me
Risen from darkness and illness into bright and multicolored light
An electric light show
I'm just not sure exactly
which screen on which it should be shown
Big slate ...small stage
Do I work huge or do I work small
Which pill to take ??
At first there was nothing in the very distant past,
Then bang! There was everything, a universe so vast;
All splendid and magnificent, terrifying and mundane.
But before we knew all this, before we could explain,
About giant, burning, swirling gas balls,
And dark vortexes that swallow worlds,
Before we knew what made the light,
Our ancestors named the stars at night.
Polaris, leiðarstjarna, Sea Star, the Great Northlode,
not 424 or 308, not numbers and codes,
But the tail of a dog, the little bear's story,
The explorer's hopeful guide towards glory.
The heavens were filled with loved ones now gone,
With archers and lions, heroes and swans.
Every star had a story long before we knew
Their weight, their size, their age, their hue.
Without imagination, would the sky draw our gaze?
Would we ever see the Northern lights, its colors all ablaze?
We can feel the ground, we know it's there,
But we have to imagine the sky and the air.
Looking up, we watch the birds in awe,
Their graceful glides and swooping soar.
We are not birds; we know we cannot fly,
But imagination makes us ask "What if we try?"
So Leonardo draws a helicopter from imagination's sight;
The Wright brothers undertake the first plane flight,
Blimps and hot air balloons take to the sky,
and now man experiences how it feels to fly.
Every scientist already knows,
Without imagination no great idea grows.
From that first humble wheel to the latest Lamborghini,
From the first hot meal to the finest shrimp linguini.
From flickering candles to a bright electric light,
From using feathered quills, to keyboards when we write,
From burning wood and coal, to nuclear fission,
From dreaming of the moon to our first manned mission...
Knowledge helps us build a ladder, but can only go so far;
It takes imagination to reach for the stars.