"outage" poems
The sun is coming up so big and bright and bold that it feels like I could just reach out and grab it and put it in my pocket for later. I'm pretty sure I'm going to need it later.
I think he took his sun away for good. I tried to keep his sun shining. I tried so hard to keep it lit. But no matter how hard I stoked the fire, he kept me in the dark.
Somehow, I got so busy sustaining his solar energy that I didn't notice my own sun going out. His appeared so bright that I forgot I needed the warmth of my own. I don't know how long it will take my sun to heat up again.
Now it's as if I'm stumbling around a dark house during a power outage, searching for the emergency flashlight and hoping the batteries aren't as dead as we are. I think he used it last, and he never puts things back the way he found them. Good thing I grabbed the sun this morning and put it in my pocket for later.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
when he died, his jackets all went
to the grandkids (world-war-two-chic was
en vogue), his medals to his sons, and his
meticulous preparations for any far-off
hurricane, blizzard, fabled connecticut sandstorm,
power outage, overheating engine,
skinned knee
to the big and elegant dumpster.
his wife in her heels-for-every-occasion, in her
quiet knowing
languages and recipes and birdseed
loved him even after she forgot his name
and hers.
they built this house bare-handed
and in the shade of the trees
and spiders and cell-phone towers
it will stand as ever
it always has.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
It took a power outage for me to see the light
Of what it is I am really like
To hear the words that you said without the noise
I could listen close, without distraction of toys
I saw the darkness of how I felt surround me
The candle that you lit, so profound within me
Safety, security, as well as desire
Lit so lovingly by that fire
It took a power outage for me to release pent up fear
To see that you are so very near
Never so far away as I sometimes believe
You are here, here with me
You hold my darkness, always at bay
To keep me happy, chase the blues away
I never saw this until the lights went out
When I made the darkness become my doubt
That same darkness that you made light
(C) September 23, 2009 Deanna Repose
Reposted from: blog.deannarepose.com
Sep 23, 2009
Sep 23, 2009 at 7:04 AM UTC
The electricity
in that moment,
when your hand first
brushed past mine,
could have lit up New York City
for the night.
I could have lived in that moment.
Plugged in.
Turned on.
But, in the same way we got used to
light switches and indoor plumbing,
I got used to your touch.
What I wouldn't give
to go back to candlesticks and outhouses
for just one night
so that when you reach for my hand tomorrow,
I won't be jaded by the light that now seems
so perfectly ordinary.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 5:39 PM UTC
I didn't want to be cliché about it,
but he was the sun after the rain.
He was the light after the outage.
The courage in fear,
and the dessert after the meal.
He was the sigh of relief after a long day,
he was the wind in my sails on the vast ocean of my open heart.
I didn't want to be cliché about it, but there was no other way to describe the way I felt in my heart. Anything was possible. There was no reason to listen to sad music anymore, because for once in my life I was happy.
The poems I wrote weren't just strings of word simply pressed against a dead tree someone processed so we can write on, but heavy weighted letters that put together the reasons why you could look at a person and feel more at home than the place you grew up in.
He sat there asking me how much I loved him,
I pictured the rest of my life,
and how nice it would be with him holding my hand for the rest of forever.
I didn't want to be cliche about it,
"As much as the night brings out the stars, after the hours of them being covered up."
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
I keep having dreams that I'm in prison, whats the worst thing you've ever done?
I had a bowling ball in my stomach and everybody looked like pins! I wanted more limbs. I n3eded a labotomy! I needed a power outage. In all my reacurring nightmares I look like a natural disaster.
Which would you rather do: implode, erode, dissolve, evolve, disintegrate, collapse, or dissapear?
There is always so much false hope here
It feels like im going to rip like wet paper. Believing in something is like drawing angel wings on the back of a white tshirt.
Is he real? I want to know
I think I'll ask my magic 8ball...
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
By: Wileh Kama
I wish you were
Addictive to me
Than you are
To Facebook
The dawn breakers birds sing
And you wake up
Excitingly full of Indulgence
From overnight's expectations
You log onto Facebook
Foremost thing you do
Then you log off from Facebook
All before me
You forget me
During the day
Even when hunger strikes
Or when you are in the toilet
On the bus at work in the church
You log onto Facebook
Gratified from the overwhelmed messages
Updates statuses notifications
Furthermore disgusted winching
Over internet outage low data storage
You log off from Facebook or don't
Always Facebook is in your little mind
That makes your world go round
But you forget me
The last thing you do
Before you close your eyes
Regardless of tiredness
Even before you want to die
Craving like an addict
For the last hale of ****
Like a dog faithful to its master
You log onto Facebook
Check Facebook its Facebook
At times you forget to log off
And sleep all over Facebook
All after and without me
I wish you were
Addictive to me
Than you are
To Facebook
Date: 20140624
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Talk to you without problem
Look at you without outage
Answer you without hesitation
Smile you without stop
Disappoint you without attention
Annoy you without regret
Reassure you without success
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
Lisa comes into my room and flops on the bed. The day had been uncompromisingly gray, windy and cold. The night sky was a snowy, blowing darkness, an absolute void that absorbed the campus lights and reflected nothing back. “I’m missing Spring Break,” Lisa she says.
“It doesn’t even seem like Spring Break happened,” I say. “Most Yalies went to Puerto Rico this year, I think, from my sampling.”
“RIGHT?” Lisa said, “EVERYONE says that - we’re in sync. But I enjoyed Paris,” Lisa continued, “I liked your family - no - I LOVED your family,” she amends.
“THAT’s a strong take,” I say, chuckling.
“I watched basketball with your uncle (Rémi) and cousins and helped your grandma cook,” she explains, “I felt like a part of your family.”
“Aww,” I say, “You ARE part of my family now - you’re TRAPPED,” and we laughed.
They invented spring break because after several months, the student mind starts to notice a harsh reality - how much their dorm room resembles a cinder-block jail cell - and starts to wonder how a lifetime of study and stress over grades has gotten them no further in life than the average felon.
We’re at lunch. Lisa says, “Ok, what’s new with you?” Keep in mind we see each other ten times a day.
“Well,” I say, I’ve decided that “The Beatles are for spring.” Lisa laughs. “Stop!” I demand, “I’m going deep. Today’s song is Julia,” I say, “It’s John Lennon’s song to his mom who was run over by a car when he was a child.” “I love that song,” Lisa says.
“Ok, what about you?” I ask.
“My song right now is “Move like a Boss,” Lisa says, “When I’m walking across campus, with my air pods on - I’m intense, don’t get in my way - I’m dangerous, I’ll Will Smith you - I scare me.”
“Good to Know,” I say, wishing I’d gotten a lemon brownie.
Then I add, “I’ve got this presentation on Monday that I haven’t even had time to look at yet. If I don’t get on it by this weekend it’ll be a nuclear-level disaster. I started on it yesterday and the Internet went down for 20 minutes. It was stressful - of course, you don’t know how long the outage is going to be when you’re IN it - and I had THINGS to do - is that convoluted? ”
“No,” Lisa says, nodding in agreement, “losing the Interweb’s traumatic.”
Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
*The unexpected snow, disruptive,
in ways more burdensome,
than mere fender benders and
swapping travelogue commutation miseries
ah, the tv reporters regale
with snow tales, human fails,
but where do you hear
of the children
burnt once by fire
then again, now,
again!
burnt by snow.
here, hear, listen here
technology moves forward,
grafting new shells of skin
on burnt children,
but tonite you're cozy thinking
of your valentine's heart,
not of the little ones,
whose hearts are unprotected,
by what we take so for granted
beneath our protective gloves and coats, scarfs and boots,
our prophylactic human skin,
theirs, fire ravaged,
now re-hazardous,
by southern snows burning
these children hurt,
unexpectedly,
cannot play in the snow that came so
unexpectedly,
lest it burn them worse*
"in the children's burn unit, postponed all surgeries except 'emergency'. Two days of outpatient clinic patients forced to reschedule,. That then, postpones their surgeries, second step grafting, etc. Our vents ran smoothly I heard via the generators, unlike last outage. We had to ambulance each individual patient.
I dread going in tomorrow but small comfort,
it will be warmer than my cold home."
Life first, poetry second
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
I am equally as invigorated
By the temperance
Of modern convenience
And the dominance of nature
As I am terrified
Of total dependence
Of modern man
On everything electric
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
You are not what I am looking for
not the flashlight in a power outage
not my mother’s hand when crossing a busy street
not a glass of wine in the middle of a stressful week.
You are not kind or creative
you are not clever or desirable
you are not unique.
You are drunk
pulling on my skirt
pleading for permission that I’m too weak to deny
I am trying to blend in with the walls
as I watch you stumble down the hall to grab my waist
You are not what I am looking for.
You are bored and pessimistic
you are "I love you" one night
you are “I don’t want you” the next day
either way you are hovering over my chest
your fingers laced with my flesh
you are not what I am looking for.
You are a broken promise
you are the winter tree who refuses to grow leaves again the spring
you don’t believe in seasons
you are resistant to any change.
You are “I’ll stop” but never when you should
you are leaving me before I have the chance to leave you
running down the stairs screaming “catch me if you can”
unaware that I am anchored to my stance.
you are not what I am looking for.
You are a text that I usually leave blank
you are the shot of whiskey that finally leaves me drunk in the passenger seat of your car
you are playing really awful music
really loud.
You are “please, just this once” until 4 a.m.
I say “then will you let me sleep”
you smile as you steal opportunity from my heavy eyelids
you are an empty coffee cup and an awkward silence
the following morning
you are not what I am looking for.
You are “What if I never fall in love”
you are “I don’t want to be alone”
you are chain smoking after an argument
you are using me
you are uncertainty
you are not what I am looking for.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
her beauty personifies the perfection
of a chaos theory hard at work
a gentle flapping of her eyelashes
could effect my entire Earth.
Send a tornado through my heartbeat
of a nuclear winter through my veins
an earthquake across all muscles
and a power outage in my brain.
She could reinvent my humanity
with the humility in her eyes
there's no way I could love her more
no matter which & what way I may try.
My skin bumps in goose flesh
in response to her next breath
it lets the tide return to sea
and rejuvenate her depths.
Her currents intersect like neurons
that fire rapid, nerve to ending
conduct the idea before the thought
no worry of a moments pending
on the fringe of "not to be."
What’s the next effect she'll be sending?
if she thinks a single thought of chaos
it could mean the worlds ending.
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 9:41 PM UTC
George came by bus everyday
From Alvinston;
A No-Daddy community.
I've heard that town
Should be fenced
And re-named a Zoo.
During a power outage
George was suspected
Of being the dumper
In the middle of the gym floor,
During class. He was present.
The evidence was piled against George,
But inconclusive.
When George brought
A bag of **** to school
I called his mother,
A worn-out, retired pole-dancer.
When she arrived I showed her
The bag. She was pleased
I didn't turn George over to the cops,
But roundly upset with George
For swiping her good stuff,
And not the skunk ****
Some kids' parents.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
I spend days in a room
The impression of a tomb
No one ever talks
No one ever calls
I keep staring at these walls
and in the moment I just pause
I’ve got to crawl before I walk
but in my mind I start to
shelter all my thoughts into an 8ball
Wish that I could make it but if I don’t
I don’t hate y’all
Somethings gonna break soon
Talking to myself inside a break room where music is my outlet
Plugin all these holes inside my chest like it’s an outlet
Wont let my flame die
or be out lit
Everyone’s different
I still wear the same outfits
Too lazy to be out fit
At least if I don’t make it
I’ll be out lived
Cherish what I have until the storm bears an outage
Out-aged with no fear to climb up a mountain
So high but I still remain grounded
Collect rocks till I feel like I’ve amounted
Can’t see what I’m heading towards
To ward the light from my darkness
I need a sword
Never had a lot of money
I was always poor
I know there’s people in this crowd
with the tears that I poured
Like one day I’ll go on tour
with broken promise that I couldn’t afford
in a broken down car that resembles a ford
I go to battle with myself but I’m still
Losing the war
On what planet do I meet my accord
Tie the noose around my neck
All it needs is a cord
I’m sorry I can’t make you happy
I’m still sad when I’m laughing
Jan 23, 2023
Jan 23, 2023 at 11:27 PM UTC
you constantly manipulate the game-you toss and turn and hit the ball in all crooked ways, you scream crazy **** and pierce my soul and degrade me to levels not even six feet under could reach.
i seem to let it slide like a baby on ice because believe it or not, the louder my voice, the quieter my soul. I hate the confrontation and i dont see the point of stirring the ***
i let you run train tracks over my face and flatten my self esteem so quickly but i cant seem to cut you off for good like an umbilical cord to a newborn.
i say one thing to you, because after all, you are always so big about being up front and in your face, you ask us why we dont talk our problems out and let our pandoras box open.
well. we did
we didnt agree-and then you become a power outage shutdown so quick and at this point, im more like pepco instead of BGE-im not quick to turn you back on.
I dont look through the same lens as you, and yes i might not see the bright side-im no sunny side eggs but hey, you are no sunflower either.
i dont understand your doubles. dont touch me and not expect to be touched.
we are friends sure but at this point im not sure if we are seesawing on a not wanting to crack the egg or if we are friends at all.
you are now shut down and at this point im like pepco-not sure when i will try to turn you back on, you bop me around like an abusive parent on drugs-you are so sure that you are right.
im hardly ever right, and i own it but you, im not sure
i cant let you use your pass about your past to get out of jail no for we all, victims and criminals have to own our past. use it to walk forward not run backwards down a hill
i know i know, im a ***** a stuck up ***** with alot to say and yes-i throw the memory of a 19 year old guy performing a ***** on me at only 5 but to be honest thats no excuse either.
we all have hot pots that are quickly dropped because of the complexity of our journeys but its no excuse to shut down. and now writing this more and more, im figuring out that this is not just a letter to you but a letter to myself. you gotta own your advice before dispersing it.
if you need a break, have a break
everyone needs a kitkat bar sometimes
i totally understand
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
The summer sun at certain hours of the day
angles its shine into
the ample windows of this house,
The blackout is unavoidable
during these heavy heated months
in which we find ourselves,
The power outage often keeps
all the lamps on at night
while none of them can show light,
The brightness in the room
is a byproduct of guided mirrors
trailing from my next door neighbor's house,
The built-in generator they own
often satisfies the home's residents
no matter the time, weather, or otherwise,
The reflections from across the way
align throughout the living room
and up the stairs of my house I hold out in,
The recreation of light here
can be far more than recreational
for my other neighbor's mirror systems.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:17 AM UTC
there's no reward for the children.
there's no love during a power-outage.
a dog-biscuit god,
lonely on the 4th floor landing
tired.
biting his knuckles
as the night sits on her hands and waits for something spectacular to happen.
somewhere a huntress is hurting.
somewhere we finally live.
we are beautiful- clean, like some ocean drug,
smiling out of nervous fear.
sitting shirtless in the dark,
slapping our fingers against our thighs to warm them.
we wanted heroes
but god kills like a hero.
we found a crumpled hand and a cigarette.
saw a girl hiding from a killer in her closet
man with crow on his collarbone-
for some hot, damp woman
lost a piece of our prize in the coming of the sun
rum-runner's daughter,
sign of the father.
we need no such badge of courage on our sleeves.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
ordinary life halts
when there’s a power outage
(especially in the country)
no shower no bath no TV no
Internet no fridge no stove no
oven no flushing no music
no reading (no lights) no dishes
no distractions - just silence
the in and out of breath
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
Had such a busy week
so exhausted I could barely speak
Needed to get up early on Friday for an important appointment
much to my disappointment my alarm glitched
maybe even caused by a power outage
Instead of making it to the appointment I was dreaming about it while
asleep in my bed.
Perhaps maybe I needed the rest really bad and that is why I overslept.
It might be my body's way of saying that I needed to slow down a bit.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC
I promised you we have no natural disasters,
not apart from us, anyway.
I think you liked my plaid.
Or was it my sleepy hair?
I had a crush on your vocabulary,
and a crush on your girlfriend.
The surprising accent and
the curve of your singing voice
didn't help matters any.
So for these and more reasons, I didn't mind lending you matches
during the biggest power outage of December,
over my sheepish Welcome to Canada.
You like the smell of cut wood, wine, and perfection.
I like the way you and your friends looked in my living room.
In my mind, your golden heads. Your scarves and linoleum,
sophistication in a hokey hand-me-down home,
and the grumble of stomachs that knew the fridges wouldn't
work for at least 72 hours.
And I fell in love with you a little bit.
You and her and her friend.
So for these and more reasons,
I would smile at her after you left,
because she was close to you.
And think of matches and little fires
in the library on the darkest night of 2010.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
A sudden power outage
Rams home
Light's advantage!
What exactly is meant
By inexorable grief,
Dawned on me
Off my guard
When you
Turned brief,
Setting my heart afire
With anguish
That knows not a relief!
What a dead or dump nose
That doesn't sense
Death hovers close!
That is why
Oblivious to facts on the ground
I stuck to"Forever together!"
Yet,happily
The Almighty lends
The bereaved power
To outgrow
Such a gloomy hour!
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
Dreading to go lay and fall asleep
In the dark is a child’s growing fear
Minute by minute as the time draws near
Wanting the comfort of a familiar voice
Reading a bed time story or singing a gentle lullaby
From someone who is precious, close and dear
Howling wind, rain drops on the panes, rustling leaves,
And scratching branches on the house from the trees
You pray to God for a full moon every night so you can see
And in return you only witness
Shadows’ dancing on the walls in the dark
Fighting with all your might you lose
To nightmares that go long into the night
Wanting a light of some kind it don’t matter
To break to deathly silence
And scare away all the dreams of violence
After covering your corpse with clean white linen
I make sure he walks out before me
So I can then turn your light back on
Just in case you should ever awake
From your eternal slumber and you then
Could find your way out of your temporary tomb
In case of a power outage I also put in your hand till the next
A token of light in your clutches that is made
Of a child’s plastic crucifix and beads
That absorbs light hidding from your sight
And in the darkness it will glow green.
(CARSr 9-28-12)
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
To describe depression would be like,
a power outage in an entire district
and you are the singular light bulb
running on the inverter/generator
glowing in the dark room,
keeping the darkness at bay.
But as time progresses
and the inverter charge starts to recede,
the light bulb starts to fluctuate
and the dark takes up more room
as the light trys it’s best to keep burning.
It fades in and fades out.
The filament dimming with time.
A never ending battle with the dark
until the electricity is turned back on.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 8:05 AM UTC
On the edge of the balcony,
The world teaches my head to rotate,
My spine surrenders its balance,
My hopeless body waits.
Fed up with human-crafted idealism,
Along with all human functions,
I bottle up all emotions,
And set this dim night to action.
The volt is raised,
The time, a haze,
The night, a home,
The cold, so warm.
The picture is now ruined,
Each shred its own standalone story,
All I feel is coursing adrenaline,
As I dig a deep hole to bury all my glory.
Standing in line with hollow light bulbs,
I wait like an addict for the dose,
Every last memory not convincing enough,
As the switch is finally being closed.
The volt is raised,
The time, a haze,
The night, a home,
The cold, so warm
And the metaphor become reality,
As I become addicted to the echoes,
The world shut out like an outage,
So the only thing alive is my voice.
Speed limits, all but a dream,
No remorse nor guilt to hit the breaks,
I'm alone with no ties,
Don't believe in friends or family's sakes.
I find more and more like me,
Vanity and selfishness put in a mixer,
Dim mutant stars living an eternity,
With only thirsty desires to be watered.
Birth date and place, the advocate night,
It spreads its arms till we prevail,
Humanity switch is now a temptation,
To more animals with 4 limbs and tails.
Now that scene on the balcony,
Such a long walk from there,
Comparing that volcano,
To this new software.
I am now a blank canvas,
With no pressure to spill colors,
I just exist to be,
Haven't got a nerve to suffer.
I see them pure people in my memories,
Now drinking the virulent night,
Two worlds being carbon-copied,
Death suits being worn alive.
The smoke colors the universe,
A place no longer suitable for life,
Who would abide to the rules?
When we've all lost humanity signs.
Hearts, now glazed,
Time, no longer a grace,
The cold, a curse,
A search for another earth.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC