Short Oil Lamp Poems

Darkness awaits 
death of light.
Buries oil lamp....

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Quit brimming like an oil lamp,
and roast me dry,

Quit murmuring like a lonely river,
and sink me whole,

body and soul,
in this storm that` s in your eyelid....

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An oil lamp
Shines in a cottage
Just like a star
Shines in the sky
A shaky flame
Struggling to lit up
A small room's darkness
But a strong wind
From the window
Comes like fate
Easily blows it off...

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a vicious wind whips the willows
branches rake the ground
dark clouds come in billows
choking the sky all around

an old oil lamp, our only light
the children are all asleep
quietly, you hold me tight
these are memories I will keep

A november storm always brings
turmoil through the sky
yet it makes my heart sing
about you and I...

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Trudging through darkness
Day after day
With a small oil lamp
Lighting my way
Never retreating 
In this land of the dead
I boldly march onward
Where angels fear to tread
Declaring his victory
With each step i take
Knowing id give myself gladly
For eternity's sake
Rescuing children from evil
For the Kingdom they are claimed
I fight not for me
But to the glory of his name...

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Terracotta oil lamp, nearly two millennia balanced in the palm of my hand
An archaic flashlight for some Mesopotamian householder
Hands over centuries transferring it from one owner to the next
And to think that in its newest state, a sleepy flame from its spout
Cast a glow upon a bed, a table, a wife’s face, a scroll or a book 
Illuminating the momentary life that burns faster than oil....

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Evening sets with self-delusion
stirring the synapses
with a steaming 
cup of coffee.
A dimly lit oil lamp
shrouded in Saffron 
casts the room in an amber hue
where words meld like gold 
onto the page
		in an alchemic blaze.

Morning rises, dispelling dreams
out of every fold of darkness
to a sterile whiteness
that turning back 
such ingots
into leaden blocks of stone
I wake, both bleary eyed 
and blood shot, into this failed, 
pale bleak
		truth of morning

John Tansey...

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