Get Your Premium Membership

Best Poems Written by Christopher Looper

Below are the all-time best Christopher Looper poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Christopher Looper Poems

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

The Oak

I stand here with the water at my feet,

Chapped from the wind and naked.

Perched just below the overhang, 

My arms reach out over the water.

I grasp, using all my strength 

To keep hold of my garments

Being torn away by nature’s 

Heavy breath. Though I stand

Steadfast and rigid for God has

Given me strength to endure.

I am the guardian of this river.

I am the sanctuary for weary travelers,

I am history, I have a tale of heroism.

Reach for me when you need rest,

I am solitary, I will give you solitude.

Rest upon my fallen drapes 

Bury your thoughts at my feet.

Let me stand tall for you.

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2015



Details | Christopher Looper Poem

Life's December

A faint hint of spruce
Winter’s bite, it’s just no use
St. Peter brings Spring. 

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

These Rings

These are not battle scars, 
These are not to be ashamed of
This sturdy warrior has journeyed far.

From the forest, to the gates
Of my own Valhalla, mercy finds me
In a second life, in another shape.

Battle scars branded upon my brow
These dark rings are not from battle, 
But service more rewarding for now. 

I am a warrior of the home,
I battle many enemies but always
I stay on my feet firmly below.

These rings are proof I am stable
I have seen much as a
Solid oak coffee table. 

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

For a Friend

Collecting my things as best I could,

I head out into the barren woods.

Tempted to put it off another day

Though I mustn’t, I hear him say:

“Do this and I shall be proud,

Go forth and beyond the clouds

so that you may one day become

the figure that helped you see the sun.”

This sun has set, though this son I bet,

will grow to be a man and never forget

the words his father held in his breath:

“Do this and I shall be proud,

Go forth and beyond the clouds

so that you may one day become

the figure that helped you see the sun.”

The sun arose, yet this son I do suppose

Is now a man - as he should be

Will finish this task set forth from He

As he recalls the words given to those:

“Do this and I shall be proud,

Go forth and beyond the clouds

so that you may one day become

the figure that helped you see the sun.”

The sun has set, lest this son forget

He who taught him what he should know.

Returns to spread his ashes upon the snow,

A father, this son will never forget.

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2017

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

Winter's Blight

This is a cold I have never felt before
Though I have little flesh exposed,
This must be what she felt that night
Though it is a white morning, the Black 
Consumed her. Just an shadow of where 
She lay on the bed. 

The night arrives faster than before
it knocks gently on the door and pushes it 
Slightly open like an intruder upon my solace.
It carries with the whisper of frost and void
And takes heart and joy and life from me
and delivers it to death.

Perhaps the woods would be more 
Comforting, perhaps they would listen.
Their branches reaching towards my collar
Ash and flake fall together this night
Winter has become my fire and despair is my fuel.
Stain my coat with damp and suit,
Until I fall like the rest.

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2015



Details | Christopher Looper Poem

A Father's Son

Collecting my things as best I could

I head out into the barren woods.

Tempted to put it off another day

Though I mustn’t, I hear him say:


“Do this and I shall be proud,

Go forth and beyond the clouds 

so that you may one day become

the figure that helped you see the sun.”


This sun has set, though this son I bet,

will grow to be a man and never forget

the words his father held in his breath:


“Do this and I shall be proud,

Go forth and beyond the clouds

so that you may one day become 

the figure that helped you see the sun.”


The sun has arose, yet this son I do suppose

Is now a man as he should be

Will finish this task set forth from He

As recalls the words given to those


“Do this and I shall be proud,

Go forth and beyond the clouds

so that you may one day become 

the figure that helped you see the sun.”


The sun has set, lest this son forget

He who taught him what he should know.

Returns to spread his ashes upon the snow,

A father this son will never forget.


Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2016

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

Midnight Dancer

She dances,
I come to her at midnight
When the night is darkest
And my rescue is foremost.
I must be close to her
Though her reach is far
I dare not go beyond.
The evil that hides is 
Never far this late hour.

The night is patient and
Welcoming. Any vestige
Of hope for her bleeds 
And falls among the dust
At my feet. I am too close 
Now. She warns me and burns me, 
But my will burns hotter
And with one quick motion this 
Midnight dancer, she ceases.

The night is silent here
And with this dancers blood upon 
The toes of my boots I walk beyond 
Her reach now. It is too late for her 
And she lays cold now
In the hallway. What have I done?
Is this what waits for us all in the night? 
The new sun will not 
Reveal joy, just a lifeless body where 
My midnight dancer once was.

I guess I'll head to the candle store
In the morning for another.

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

Speak It Below

Segment 1



Under the moon I do the darkest of deeds,

To send another man to Heaven,

I pick his pocket.



As he ascends, I must pay my way

For the boatman.

Coins and locket.



It has been two years to the day

Since I have found myself

Under that moon.



I must confess, but to whom?

Shall I be condemned by laws

before The Almighty?



I hear stories of a river north

That listens to whispers

And carries them forth.



I must find this river and confess

I must speak my truth

And free myself.



My chest weighs heavy as this

Horse and carriage of remorse

Trample me and perish.



I reach the river, foggy in mind

The sediment, thick with truths

It runs with haste downstream.



A whisper floats along the fog

"Speak it below"

I wince and nod.



I kneel down, smelling the murk

And mist, pressing my lips

Against the surface.



I lean further and drown my face

In such cold, cold trust that

My confession flows with haste.



I speak immersed, beneath the cover

Of such a moon, my secrets sink

To the depths, swept by current.



I fear this river is too well known

That this bed I have sewn

Wicked weeds have grown.



I dry my face, my scarf now soaked

This deed I have done,

This confession I’ve spoke



Drifts down stream and out of sight.

Cloaked and muddied,

I walk home this night.





Segment 2



Cold is this day when the frost

Has covered our fields

And the river has slowed.



The fish can be seen through the ice

Feeling safe they swim

Waiting to be snatched up.



They tell stories of foul fish

Tasting rotten and dead

Though they are moments old.



The youth love fish from the river,

They eat it up until

They have had their fill.



They begin to foster illness in heart

The devil’s sins begat man, and

The girls turn courtesan.



Where does this come from?

Why has our river town soured?

Whence has this evil poured?



We eat fresh fish, and fresh grain

Yet this evil is around again

Always under this moon.

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

Ode to the Owl

Verdant fields submit their hues to the rime,

She hangs in his stead with a soft glow.

Wild things of this land find refuge in the pine

Hoarfrost gathers where the owl goes.


“In silent flight, the night blinds the fright,

from the gliding grasp, clasped from hiding.

Never knowing, but ever showing how 

The owl can have sight so keen and

Preened coat of white.”


The owl and winter seem to come as one.

Does my fortune hold so little?

Perhaps my purpose lies in servitude

Offering myself to such a beast

If a beast at all.

Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2016

Details | Christopher Looper Poem

Bring The Oil

I have doused this lamp
Not just to smolder
but to hide outside the light
I have grown bolder
While this night grows damp
?
My deeds, wicked have grown
As my lamp lay lifeless and cold
I trust only myself and the dark
my cross hangs dusty and old
And stricken pleads have sewn
?
Without the lamp glow I fall
I am too desperate and weak
Will someone light this lamp once more?
And be the light I wish to seek?
Before the night sends his call.
?
Please, Please bring this lamp oil!
Is my cry not loud enough?
Have I silenced my heart and soul?
Please! let this lamp not remain snuffed
Please, someone! bring this lamp some oil.


















Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2016