Long Lamp Poems
Long Lamp Poems. Below are the most popular long Lamp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lamp poems by poem length and keyword.
The Lost Souls Saloon
The oil lamp was dimmed
as the light defined her face
and it made the room a fire
silhouetting our embrace
With her arms around my neck
and her legs around my waist
Her lips became more supple
while her eyes drew more debased
I was somewhere, caught between
A place called heaven, and one called hell
And somewhere in the distance
I heard an erie sounding bell
We rolled around the mattress
Like a thunder cloud in spring
Making love like no tomorrow
"Till I couldn't feel a thing
I was falling to perdition
In a never ending well
never to escape
Not, as far as I could tell
But I had to gain my senses
Had to stand up on my feet
Had to fight for my existence
Had to make for my retreat
Don't stray
Page 6 is on its way............Yeeehaww
Your word oh God is like unto a lamp
that guides the footsteps of your flock
inscribed upon their hearts like a stamp
and the path of the master they stalk
On the road to Mount Zion they walk
and the gifts they bring you in praise
about their redeemer and King they talk
and his banner is the one that they raise
Their garments resemble the spirit of light
and crowns of radiance upon their head
wield the Word of Truth do they fight
with principalities the earth will shed
Against the rulers of darkness they stand
the fallen sons of God and their wiles
they hold the shield of faith in their hand
to defend against that which defiles
They wrestle not with flesh and blood
against the strongholds of darkness they wield
with the gospel of peace are their feet shod
and the sword of the spirit in the field
They fight against those who mankind would harm
the war is not with weapons of steel
they have gone forth to sound the alarm
to flee from the gods where the fallen do kneel
The knowledge of God teaches love and truth
and tender thoughts of understanding
so many minds acquired hatred in youth
and with the armies of Demons are banding
To understand God his Word you must know
discerning the powers that rule in his stead
the Word who is master the truth will you show
least on the wrong path you be led
The sword of the spirit is the Word of Truth
God does not torture or rape
The Demons are ones who with war do sooth
and the face of this world shape
sources IICor. 10:3-6 Eph. 6:10-17
Mark 13:2 II Tim 3:1-5
Apocalypse 11:18 , chptr 19
COPYRIGHT © all rights reserved
2010 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Ready
A camera, the battery, charger and film…(what is that?)
A flashlight, lighter, matches and something to burn.
A bag, a flag, a blanket, and comfort to sleep.
A favorite pillow, and bear, “yes you can bring him”.
The telephone the charger, maybe I should leave them?
What a novel idea…I think I will write one, a novel that is.
Camp chairs, the ice-chest, the stove and the lamp,
a table, the cards, two decks, that’s our camp.
Water in bottles, soap and dish pans.
The whole house made small, to answer the call.
Paper(toilet) and paper and pen and pins…
What should I leave, where to begin?
Earthquake, tsunami, the in-laws are here!
Be steady, be ready, show… no fear.
Fishing poles, fishing lines, and worms for bate,
I think they already know their ultimate fate.
Where are you going, where have we been?
This is the final list that I wish to mend.
Forget nothing, put everything in,
the giraffe, the barn cat and the cow.
You may not need them “when or then”,
but you might need them now?
Written: August 25, 2025
*********
There was a crack in the ceiling.
Above the lamp, above the silence, a crack—
thin as a vein,
but pulsing with something devious.
At night, I stared upward,
its jagged line, such a question
I couldn’t answer.
The plaster flaked as aged skin,
and dust fell in slow confession.
When she climbed the ladder,
she traced it with a fingertip,
then with pencil, then with tape—
measuring the damage
as if it might reveal a diagnosis.
She patched it gently,
not to erase, but to soothe.
Later, she painted it
the same soft ivory as before.
Not to hide it—
but to let it rest.
And now, when I look up,
I perceive nothing.
Or rather,
I perceive everything it once held.
To be a child or a parent is challenging...
But if we remember to be kind to each other; to show love, compassion, respect and support, it will make a huge difference.
To my parents
(from a child)
By Michelle Morris
21/06/2020
Please tuck me in with a blanket warm and cosy,
Tell me a story of fantasy and lives so rosy;
Please leave the lamp on to light the room a bit,
While I go to sleep and dream of hugs and fun and stuff...
Please be there for me in the night,
When I'm frightened by bad dreams;
Please be there in the morning,
When I awaken to bright sunbeams...
Please spend time with me having breakfast;
Getting ready for a new school day;
Please get me to school on time so I won't
Start with stress right away...
Please help me with my homework,
And support me after school;
Whether I'm an artist, athlete or academic,
Let me know it's wonderful...
Please spend quality time with me
Each afternoon or evening;
We need to be a family
That shares togetherness so meaningful...
Please let me feel respected and
Let me have my say;
I need to learn to make decisions and feel
My input counts come what may...
Please remember to set an example that is
Positive and moral;
I'm counting on you to guide me through
The labyrinths of being human...
Please be there for me always,
It'll make all the difference in the world -
I'll be a shining example of what love and compassion can unfurl...
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Out of all of us my best friend
Came to an inglorious, untimely ugly end
We were digging holes inside a cave
But what he didn’t know was that he was digging his own grave
When it was finally time to go to bed
He turned around and a Nazi shot him in the head
He fell into the hole he had just dug
And the Nazi covered him up with an old dirty rug
They poured gasoline on him and set him afire
That was to become my friends funeral pyre
We were made to stand there and watch him burn
And the Nazi said, "This is your lesson to learn”
That night we all went to bed
Full of sadness, fear and dread
What happened that night really gave us a fright
Nothing was ever going to be alright
At night I see the ghosts of the lost
During the day I see the price that it cost
The Nazis have no religion or conscience
They only believe in killing and science
Later that day, a Nazi came with something he made
It was a very awful ugly lamp shade
On one side of the shade was something I knew
It was one of my dead friend’s tattoos!
Of the unfortunate unlucky dead
The Nazis were shrinking heads!
And they were making all kinds of things
Out of the prisoners, their gold teeth and rings
One night so cold I was watching my frozen breath
The Nazis came and took me away to see Dr. Death
He said he was going to give me a shot and it would do no harm
He rolled up my sleeve and stuck a needle in my arm
That was after Christmas in 1944 late December
And from that moment on nothing I remember
An American soldier told me that when he found me
I was walking around the prison yard like a lifeless zombie
Now it’s early May 1945
And somehow I am still alive
It’s amazing that I am not insane
The last survivor of the last train
To understand the holocaust
You must understand all it cost
In this camp it cost the lives of over a million
Of innocent men, women and children
Now we speak of all the lives lost
In the past tense
It all really comes down to the cost
Of all the dead and the presence of absence
Against all of humanity there leaves a void
A hideous heinous crime
So many promising lives destroyed
In one short period of time
Lives that were vital and present
All became past tense
And we can still feel and resent
Their absence of presence
I readily admit I am a country bumpkin
But I am no buffoon
I am in this to build others up
To help others win
To raise up my neighbors and my friends
We hear about the coastal towns
Both east and west coast have terrific reputations
Their people are more sophisticated, more stylish, chic.
It is fashionable at both coasts to be less hands-on.
To be less community oriented.
In the big citiies of the coasts, people on the streets do not speak.
They do not smile.
They do not say “hi”.
They walk past each other, like trotting lamp posts.
Not noticing faces or inflections.
Not noticing humanness in each other.
I am in New York City today, trying to figure it out.
Where is a guidebook to help me unlearn social niceties?
How can I immediately become less human? Less caring?
How do I not say “hi” to everyone I pass?
Is there a manual? A cheat sheet? A U-tube video?
Too late. I am already here, feeling miserable.
Wishing I was back in the Midwest where it is okay to care about strangers.
Competing against windy air
Doing its best to stay in flight
Wondered why it would even dare
As it wrestled with all its might
Pretty bird that was very small
A newborn of very few days
Yet the small, feathered one gave all
To make it through the turbulent maze
It perched on the lamp by my door
Worn from fighting with gravity
Thought, would my guest stay or just soar
To prove profound tenacity
My weathered friend with spirits high
Left the haven by my back door
Found its way back into the sky
Braver and stronger than before
Mother Nature’s lesson is true
The moment we become alive
Until life ends and our work through
One must persevere to survive
The I-thought arises, then disappears,
so the practice is to get hold of it,
before we’re hypnotised and ego leers,
that lamp of awareness in heart be lit.
Blink and we’ll miss it, so hold firm focus,
examining the I-thought’s very source,
which lies far beyond the space-time locus,
cognised in silence, without use of force.
The Self when polarised becomes the ‘I’,
to navigate this earth life’s harsh terrain,
where heart feeling limitations does sigh,
when it chooses to wear the ego-chain.
Freedom or bondage, is for us to choose ~
As both dreamer and dreamed, what’s our excuse
Powerless in an iron lung
split purple in an evening sky
my lady leaks
The snow here is made of china
I’ve been here before
my lady fills the horizon
and the mountain hugging the river
went with the sun
Nothing left to walk on
only places to fall
where ice
breaks open to swallow
Just cats and nocturnal solicitors
can prowl with trembling paws
and hammer the neighborhood doors
as fists of freeze
And what am I but one of these
burrowed inside the night
disreputable cat
wet and wandering
amusing crying obviously wrong
A scoundrel
searching for a lamp
she is blotted
she is blinded spilling purple
to the earth