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Oscar Jun 22
i picked up so many of your pieces,
i made a house from the ruins of your life.
like a lava lamp, we blazed and bubbled;
we rose to the top, just bubbles in a jar.
u say tomato i say i want to die
Eliza Prasai Mar 20
Indeed, it is lifeless
But it gives life to her hopes.
It is a witness;
Witness of her all time pains.
It is her friend whom
She shares her thoughts with.
She looks into a distance
Upto the place her eyes can see,
Tears flow down vigourously.
Yet, hope remains deep down the heart.
It shines;
Along with it shine her faiths,
Her faiths would have died a long ago
If it did not exist.
She gazes into its light,
It says to her,"your wait is not wasted."
She strengthens...
She grows stronger with the words.
When everything faded away,
When darkness covered the dawn of life,
When there was shadow all over,
It had helped her fight;
Fight with the pessimism of life.
To the rest of the world,
It was just a piece of mud.
But to her,
It was 'THE DIYO'
Her courage, her belief and her faith
Whose never ending light
Would provide her
A reason to fight and survive.
Diyo is a small lamp in Nepal which is associated with worships, prayers and optimism.
bakunawa Feb 24
have you once
thought about
whether or not
moths ever feel
of getting burned
by the light
they always
and forever
long to chase?

don't you think
they stop
for even a second
to deliberate
about it?

or maybe
to them
and their short life
it was worth it?

did you consider
that maybe
it's why the have
such short lifespans?

perhaps in the lenses of
miniscule eyes
of ephemeral dismal colors
in this infinite world
the warmth
of flames
are all they live for?

i don't know...
maybe that's why
we humans live longer?

or at least some of us
have the mind enough
to say that
"this is the
"i'll ever be'
"to the sun"

before we all turn into ashes.
hey icarus, if you had the chance to conquer the skies knowing you might melt your wings forever, would you even try to soar?
IncholPoem Jan 11
Here   a  
              single  woman

Her  cottage  area

                was  on  top
                  of   hill.

In      only  December
that  old  woman  
lamped  her  house.

   One  night   the  lamp  light


   People   went  up
to  her  house,
saw  thousands
  creature  were

These  were  ready  to

sent   outside  the
solar  system's
planet  for
to   fool the  Earth
S Nirmal Kumar Nov 2018
Sleep deprived
Yearned for day-break
Street lamp
Brittany Hall Nov 2018
I'm just a lamp.
You're just a bulb.
I give you power.
You give me light.
I stand tall and strong, waiting to be used.
You roll around, fragile, easily breakable.
Together we ignite something beautiful, that makes the world a little brighter.
It's nothing magic, just how we were wired.
One day I will fall, my intricate shade will crack.
My solid base absorbs the shock, so you remain intact.
Turned loose from me, you're ******* back into the old lamp from the closet.
Amazing, it still lights up, covered in dust and cobwebs.
A little warmer, yet a little more dim.
The only problem now, is that lingering scent, of burning dust and cobwebs.
You used me, but I understand.
K Balachandran Nov 2018
Lamps lit in her eyes ,
Reflect million times within;
Love defies optics!
Maxim Keyfman Sep 2018
to be on hold pending
in anticipation of what or what
what for and why and why
whom in the heath of what and where I am
lost behind the door behind the lamp for
a window behind a window behind
a blizzard behind the snow
for the sun behind the sunny rain

be in anticipation of waiting for something
how it is and what kind of flashlight it counts
where am I where I am not was
times there was no time there was no past
and there was no future and now where I am
in anticipation of who is where and when and how in
waiting for that sunny rainfall

Maxim Keyfman Sep 2018
in a wooden old hut which
I'm already standing and sitting and reading
which day my lamp burns there
which day I sit and write
it is there looking out the window looking at the forest
looking at a tree looking at owls and deer

and playing the piano occasionally rarely
playing and playing and playing I look again
in the sun to the moon on the clouds that
have lain in all this and everything again and again
day after day not going anywhere nowhere
leaving I sit and sit in my chair in the hut

Gale L Mccoy Sep 2018
the shattering of a lamp
spun in words not mine
mosaic of shards
embedded in a hand
that is, unfortunately, mine
didn't start bleeding till
the 3rd one in
each sliver counts up to 10
I tried to pull out the pieces
and walk away but
I have to rebuild the lamp

I'll rebuild it into a lantern
keep it on my hip
so soft light shows
me down any path
next time it falls
there will be less
shards to clean
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