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Best Poems Written by Rauwolfia Ra

Below are the all-time best Rauwolfia Ra poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Seasons To Wonder

All the evergreens are greener
And the pines are darker skinned
Only leaves that bear the burn marks 
Are the witnesses of wind.

On the grass the dew is frozen
In a spiders web of white
And the cold that bites my fingers
Makes me wonder as I write.

How did winter come so swiftly
How did summer die so fast
Where’s the grave, where was the battle
Are they all buried in the past?

Now I feel the winter nibble 
On my fingers with its frost
And the wind that it has summoned
Mourns for seasons that are lost.

Was it but one dusk, one daybreak
Was it only in a blink?
For the summer was my feather
Now the winter is my ink.

How did shadows shift so quickly
How did colours change so much
As reflections in the water
That simply vanish with a touch?

Now the daffodils are rising
Yet the jasmine blooms are gone
Now the evergreens are greener
And the frost adorns the dawn.

Yes, how strange it is to wonder
So I wonder as I write
What if winter should then also
Simply vanish in the night?

I dedicate this poem (and I'm not being sarcastic or exaggerating)
to my mentor and my friend Timothy Brumley, who taught me 
the art of rhythm, showed me the advantage of counting my syllables, 
raised my goal from acceptable to perfection,
and helped me to turn my nursery rhymes into poetry. 
(and no Tim don’t protest, they really were nursery rhymes)

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Autumn the Wanderer

Dead leaves are all you left behind
To break beneath my feet,
I hate to see you leave this land
Now banished by defeat.

A wanderer you have become
A wounded creature gold,
You leave red blood and bits of soul
A pathway for the cold.

You stumble on the roads of life
Each year we meet again,
And passing by you take my hand
And touch my heart with pain.

Old memories come back to me
Of years before the war,
The days before you fought the cold 
And taught the winds to soar.

You were my friend, we danced each day
And laughed in storms of flame,
I heard you cry each starlit night
Until the winter came.

One morning when I called to you
You did not answer back,
I searched for you all through that day
Until the sky was black.

Then just as stars begun to rise
Upon a field of frost,
I found a puddle of your blood
And knew that you had lost.

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Another Day, Another Night

How the hills have changed their faces
Since I saw them at the dawn,
When the sky was pale and empty
And the day was not yet born.

Now the night has called his children,
Moon and Stars, come crowned to reign,
And the dusk has brought the darkness
And the darkness brings the rain.

Though my view has slowly vanished
Like the faces in a dream,
And the brink of the horizon
Bears the last of daylight’s gleam.

Every day has its own glory
Every sunrise has its set,
So I watch the fading mountains
With no feeling of regret.

In the dark I hear the fingers
Of the rain against the glass,
As she leave her water touches
On window panes and grass.

How the wind now lifts her gently
With its wings of sea-born air,
In its feathers lies the moonlight
Sifting softly through her hair.

She will kiss the pink storm-lily
with the gift of silver dew,
And the face of every mountain
In the morning will be new.

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Autumn Leaves

Sunburnt summer’s child
Almond eyed and copper haired,
Winged with winds of storm.

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Sickle Moons

Sickle moons have shone above me
In the dark of night,
Standing on the mountain edges
Writing by their light.

Fall with eagle wings of colour
Soared the starry skies,
Called its sickle moon of copper
To enchant my eyes.

Winter passed with silent footsteps
In one silent night,
left the world a stainless canvass
And a moon of white.

Spring woke as an early blossom
Blooming in the snow
never was there such an artist
Made a green moon grow.

Summer, daughter of the morning
Let the world behold,
As her fingers formed the perfect
Sickle moon of gold.

So the seasons passed before me
Still I stand and write,
In the dark on mountain edges
Sickle moons my light.

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The Lighthouse

I have watched from the tower
That rises in the night,
To the throne of the mountains 
To stand at their height.

I have gazed at the waters
Of emerald seas,
To the depth of all beauty
The breath of the breeze.

In the dusk I have risen
The staircase to climb,
To the light of my tower
that always must shine.

In the storms of the winter
That howl to the moon,
I have listened and wondered
While hearing each tune.

Through the vines of my window
The ivy and rose,
With their berries and blossoms
Protect and enclose.

Here I look for the sailors 
When lost in the night,
When their ships are in danger
I shine out my light.

On the edge of the ocean
Where waves meet the sand,
There the rocks are the border
Between sea and land.

The sharp fangs of the ocean
The swords of the shores,
That devour the wretched
That died in their jaws.

So I climb still the staircase
To stand there tonight,
For I've seen those who washed up
Who died without light.

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Prisoner

This world it cruel to use its name
Its ruler has a heart of stone,
Yet all its prisons that I’ve seen
There’s one that’s worse, that stands alone.

Its cells of grief are cold I know
Its bars are strong with rusty stains,
Yet cell on cell with trouble soul
Could not compare with simple chains.

I stand before my window’s glass
There are no bars to block my view,
There is no lock upon my door
No guard that would I run pursue.

I stand and watch the breaking dawn
Its beauty call to me to write,
Yet when I reach to take y pen
I feel the heavy chains pull tight.

Though many walled my prison cell
And bar less every window frame,
The chains of time have bound my wrists
Its shackles on each step a strain.

Though fall may linger by my door
And leaves may carpet all the grass,
I look with wish on wish to write
Through prison windows barred with glass.

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A Writers Dilema

What is beauty if I cannot write it
On the pages of my book,
What nature in it’s endless glory
If I can but stand and look?

If fragments of a broken sunset
Glimmer in a purple sky,
And etched against the glowing background
Silhouettes of eagles fly.

If night is born in every shadow,
Growing with the dying day,
And slowly, slowly, hill by mountain
Shape and colour melt away.

If stars in multitudes, in millions
Shape the heaven’s works of art,
And in each stellar constellation
Beat an ancient legends heart.

If whispers stir the leaves and branches
Of the mighty Blackwood trees,
And in the dark I watch the wind
That bend the wattles to their knees.

How can I stand and hear the calling
Of the night’s elusive birds,
Or watch the silver shafts of moonlight
Without searching for the words?

If I could write these hills and valleys
Fable-like reality,
If only, oh if only
I could trap in words what I can see.

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Arctic Land

Reflecting surface
One flash of the aurora,
The winter's mirror.

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Sea Serpent

I saw it on a stormy night
When lightning struck the sea,
The waves crushed on the sand with might
the wind howled endlessly.

I stood upon the  midnight shore
The rain cold on my face,
The echo of the oceans roar
A haunting sound embrace.

Then with the lightning flash I saw
A creature through the mist,
It’s slender neck rose with the roar
Of lightning, and  it hissed.

Its oval  head with  glowing eyes
A moment caught in light,
A creature found in myths and lies
I saw within that night.

Then with that moment it was gone
Yet in my memory,
I see it in the lightning’s sun
A serpent in the sea.