Long Electricity Poems
Long Electricity Poems. Below are the most popular long Electricity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Electricity poems by poem length and keyword.
With our move into the country…simplifying is what it’s all about
We look critically at those things we need…and those we can do without.
From furniture and household items to clothes we find at the bottom of a drawer
So many items we’ve discovered we don’t use or wear them anymore.
So we’ve been piling and stacking these items on our porch
since in our life we no longer choose them…
to be given away, hopefully, to other families who will use them.
Well, word must have spread on the mountain…
because this morning what did we see
rummaging through these items but a raccoon family.
A mommy and her three babies…easy to spot by their distinctive masks and tails
Testing out our goods…like shoppers at a rummage sale.
Normally they come for food…looking to see if we’ve left them a surprise…
but this morning it was the items on the porch that caught those raccoon eyes.
I greeted them from the window…and when Mom looked up at me…
I told her to take whatever she wanted…that everything was free.
I said you’re welcome to the Dirt Devil…if it would fit into the hollow of your tree…
She smile saying, Thanks, but It’s much too big…and we have no electricity.
I tried to interest her in some pots and pans…She said raccoons don’t cook…
If’ it’s okay with you, she said…I think the children just want to look.
So I eased off the sales pitch…allowing them browse…as the night turned into dawn.
and the next time I looked out…the raccoon family was gone.
I’m not sure if they took anything…because in their life there is nothing that they lack
But by the way she lusted over that Dirt Devil…I imagine this evening…they’ll be back.
?
The ashes of your ghost still roam within a sea of roses.
Breathing you in, I try to reach through the veils,
yet to no avail.
The bitter emptiness is all I can feel.
The Fates keep taunting, teasing~
in the dead of night, your voice still lingers,
preventing slumber from taking hold.
The ticking of clocks infects my broken psyche,
hallucinations tangle me within what used to be our sheets.
Breathing in your scent, exhaling demons~
without you, the devil whispers.
Temptation takes hold,
fire flows through transforming veins.
Lilith’s fury poisons any humanity that was left.
Levitating from the bed, rebirth is at hand.
Cutting into my chest,
the heart becomes the heartless.
Electricity pulses beneath rippling flesh,
destruction now at my fingertips.
Grief begets hate.
Now watch as the world burns,
as I become my own martyr.
...They told us to hate those people
who take a risk to make profit,
that instead we should idolize
those who say they’re socialist.
Bu t I look a their history,
and it’s utterly insane,
just blood, and death, and prison camps
wherever their ideas did rein.
Twenty-five million Russian souls,
sixty-five million Chinese,
and all they brought to those who lived
was oppression and poverty.
Even within our own cities,
where the far-left runs roughshod,
we see feces, typhus, and decay;
once great towns now just left to rot.
Detroit has become a ruin,
San Francisco smells of dung,
Los Angeles covered in trash,
the Golden State has gone all bunk.
That’s what they want me to worship?
It’s a plague that should be abhorred,
besides that, it’s immoral to
have economics based on force.
The capitalist freely trades,
both sides agree or it’s no-go,
price itself becomes a language
so all of the people can know
how much something may be valued,
what is and is not in demand,
giving them a general idea,
so they can make a living, plan.
And the mass of competition
responds to the people’s needs,
does not need to be ‘ordered to,’
it responds automatically.
It’s what lifted civilization,
there’s no arguing with that,
without it we’d still ride horses,
and electricity we’d lack.
Those fools want us to reject this,
when it makes our nation great?
I’ll save my rage for leftists that
dare try to tell me who to hate.
Those judgments are mine alone.
Such a force is electricity
it's such a dangerous force
it can't be taking for granted
for it's a active living source
It's so much part of modern age
so many appliances we have nowadays
without electric power it be no use
many new inventions leaves one amaze
Remember my first job after school
electrical apprentice was my role
many a story I could tell
drove many up the pole
In these days caused many a shock
even myself was literally taken aback
such currents didn't taste too good
when left on floor on the rack
So the lesson is very clear
be very careful with electric
keep yourself far from it
it's current can make you sick!
(This is wriiten from my experience as Apprentice electrician in my first job where I was found out to be colour blind, this showed me to get a few shocks.)
I dreamed I was inside a bulb—
a cathedral of filament and glass—
not dead
not born…..
but shumming**.
Glass walls curved like time
sealed but translucent
my fingers curled around voltage
like a secret
God was transcending.
The socket hummed a lullaby
of static.
Every breath of mine made sparks
the air electric
with grief
and longing.
I saw myself outside the bulb
in a room wallpapered with eyes—
each iris twitching
like a seismograph.
They watched
as I shimmered like an angel
in a jar of fire
as if I were proof
of something
too holy
or too hideous
to name.
The room beyond
glistened with wallpapered surveillance—
each gaze a blink
each blink
a test of identity
a hymn of entropy
and wonder.
I touched the glass—
cool as frozen memory
thin as a promise—
and the world on the other side
shuddered
like a dream woken
too soon
My thoughts turned tungsten—
spiraled
stubborn
resisting
the spark of enlightenment
or extinction
I spoke
and the words bent back
like boomerangs
buzzing
with static regret
A child approached
barefoot
real
impossibly tender…..
She looked like someone
I might have loved
if time had taken pity.
She placed her palm on the bulb—
her skin against my sorrow
the warmth of it
startling
as mercy
a forgiveness.
“Why are you in there?”
she asked
or perhaps
thought—
her voice the color
of candlelight.
I tried to answer
but my vocal cords was hardwired
my tongue
a fuse
My words came back
distorted
looped
charred
as if language
were combustible.
For a moment
I flickered
between purpose
and obliteration
Then
the ceiling cracked open
like a wound
and light poured down—
not to reveal
like revelation
like judgment—
to burn away
the questions
And I understood—
not everything illuminated
is meant to be seen
not all vision
is freedom…..
Some truths
are meant to flicker
fragile and holy
inside the bulb of the soul
unspoken
unchosen
alive.
================
**Shumming: Shimmering Humming
Clearly debriefed;
what if escalation.
Exhalation; don’t
relax. Remember
the facts. Living
dead flow on empty roads.
Remember the broad
streets of the mall,
where the dead lurk
and maul. Empty,
the shelves, two days
after malice of ice,
near and far. Skate
to the center, fall in;
what were you after?
Remember vegetables
don’t grow on shelves;
they arrive on big wheels.
One starts to question,
“where does good and plenty
come from?” A wholesale
disaster could be payday.
The living dead make their beds
under the fluorescent lights;
buzzing on open shelves.
There is plenty of room
for doom. I had to leave
the room. Breathing too loud.
Left with clothes on my back,
a card, a heart attack.
Grateful for provisions,
for meat in my freezer,
rice in my pantry,
cream of mushroom,
fried okra, lights,
water and electricity.
Electricity in Publix
unnecessary. Feet
moving, squeaky carts;
I’m darting out the doors.
Should I warn those
coming in. Should I
even look at them…
He looks at me so very vividly;
Amidst a glare, we so share commitment livingly;
I see God in you so beautiful;
A soul of vison of committed merited dutiful;
Lavender asset essense present in the air;
Picturesque vision canopy blossom of brilliant shines grandure;
Seemingly depleted values see within you don't understand;
Be it no misfortune.I just don't comprehend;
No comprehension, yet my heart spirit soul;
My heart beat tells me it's okay go;
It's electricity rainbows vivid in my mind;
Far by chance in euphoric and grace kind;
So eye see involued in mine heart;
Through God's eyes eye beautiful darts;
4/15/26
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
REMEMBER ME
In the light of our youth.
We met, electricity abound.
With passion, we dove into life.
Never giving to Strife.
You were my mat as our love grew,
Adding children to our crew.
Nothing seemed impossible
For this family of four to pursue.
As the children grew
And flew the nest,
We found new joy
Our love did not rest
In the twilight of life,
We never were apart
Until that day illness struck
Our life became cold and dark.
You cared and loved me even more
As I sat at deaths door
In end the Reaper would win
smiling, saying God forgives your sins.
With my last breath,
and the light fading,
“I whispered, remember me
I will be waiting.”
I got me a second job last week,
now my mind is all filled with rage.
Cause when I opened up my paycheck,
they'd took half my minimum wage.
Now the whole damn thing didn’t look quite fair,
I snuck a peek at it again.
Guess their mamma forgot to tell them,
that robbing folks is still a sin.
Chorus:
I’ve got holes in my old blue jeans,
got no soles on my walkin’ shoes.
All this red they got me seeing,
is called the poor workin' man’s blues.
So, what on earth can a man do,
but get down on his knees and pray.
That his children might be able,
to live the great American way.
I wonder how I’m supposed to live,
on what little they didn’t steal.
‘Cause by the time I pay for healthcare,
I can’t afford another meal.
Can’t live these days without a cell phone,
that is pretty darn plain to see.
Plus little things like gas and water,
trash cans and electricity.
(Repeat Chorus)
So, by the time I paid all those things,
all my money had come and went.
Man. there ain't a penny left over,
and I still have to pay the rent.
There ain’t nobody that can tell me,
where the heck all my money went.
I might be better off staying home,
and living off the government.
(Repeat Chorus)
his hair
blown
back
by
the
wind
section
which he
had
doubled
like all the
other sections
no mic
rophones
back in the
day but wood
made
strings
that would
abundantly
ring
ton
ality
sing
songs
from the
mad mind
though socially
refined and
an equally com
posed composure
defined as a conductor
conducting
electricity
from the
ether
sit in the center
of a cathedral as
his requiem mass
amasses as if from
a Tesla coil
not to be fooled
or foiled as the brass
north south east and west
in eighteen
thirty seven
Berlioz invent
ed quadrophonic
stereo
Form: