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Best Poems Written by Le Sony'r Ra

Below are the all-time best Le Sony'r Ra poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Horse Worn Out

I am horse
Ride saddle 'pon my back
O'er plains of outer space or
O'er wishing grounds
My spit shine for a baker's bet
Wood is shrieker
And father my horse
Lay amongst the wary
And tell the hunter
Who's skin you enter soundly
Tell to him thy name;
Thy name is horse!

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Would I Were a Yellow Bird

Would I were a yellow bird,
No woes would be on me
I’d fly me past the Sawney roofs
And past the canopy,
O I’d fly so high above this earth
Above this great frontier,
You’d think me but a yellow bird
Just a-gone and disappeared.

I’d soar out into sunlit skies
Where the clouds have all gone home
And I’d soar out over churning tides,
Bleached white with briny foam
Well I’d soar above the lofty peaks
Of mountains gray and blue
Just to perch atop those crowns of rock
And sit in wait for you.

O I’d fly tomorrow if I could,
In fact I’d fly today,
But my wings have not grown strong enough
To fly me anyway
So here I’ll sit, atop this nest
These skies I’m doomed to roam
Would I were a yellow bird,
Then I would fly me home.

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It Was a Good Last Day of Winter

I drew wings all over me
and for a brief period of time,
I felt that I could fly.
However I cannot stress the brevity of this period;
[it was only about 7 seconds],
after which I hit the ground and thought,
"How silly of me to jump,
for I am no bird!"
This is when the birds took notice
and pecked me to pieces.
It was a pretty good last day.

Details | Le Sony'r Ra Poem

Rouse

Lines 1-2:
generally a request,
a plea or a confession rooted in his disregard for his own feelings
/his lack of self-respect;
Lines 3-6:
repeat of the request,
plea or confession from Line 1,
this time with altered details,
causing often a drastic extension of the thought;
Lines 7-11:
attempted 'volta',
changes feel, often posing a question
in order to gain sympathy of the reader;
Last Line:
dramatically minimalistic statement,
attempts to shock the reader/invoke feelings of desperation on his part,
often utilizes vulgarity;
(f uck this;
he's done with patterns.)

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Arizona

Lay!
Bare bones,
stew'd in smoke of eye--
sun man,
send no buzzards unto me;
the canyon is my home
red rock walls
coyote calls
all in all,
the A-Zone is the place to be.

Details | Le Sony'r Ra Poem

Night's Sun and Sky's Silver

I swear the stars that shine above
could make a grown man cry;
the twinkle that they boast each night
could turn the lion shy
and of the hare, the fox's pray,
make beast of brawniest back,
and of the fox make worthless mutt,
distracted from the track.

These stars I swear could bring
a tyrant, high upon his throne,
down to his knees in humbled state
to think more than his own.
A toad, or other beast of swamp,
made ugly by cruel fate,
would feel the breeze of beauty sway him
into dreamy-state.

It's no exaggeration
that these stars are heaven's eyes,
windows made of glass so clear
from 20 yards you'd spot the lies!
For truly lustrous things they are,
laid all around night's sun
Wish I'd brought my fishin' pole,
'cause I'd like to catch just one...

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Playgoer

To wait,
to skate on ice so thin
above a sea of blue:
a task I never quite regarded
unlike I regard you.
You sure know how to make me dance!
The jester's I,
and our romance
was but a prop
laid in a pile
the players chose in happenstance!
And play the did
to scores so sweet
for crowds of chain-bound
hands and feet
and you,
engrossed from start to end
in words that your own hand had penned,
your eyes glued to the stage, my friend,
a fan from birth
to bitter end.

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The Stench of You

I smell regret!
I smell it on your clothes
and in your hair,
on your hands
and in every stitch, 
every fiber,
every twist and turn in the path of your goddamned
chugga-chugga-choo-choo'ing
train of thought,
and it is especially noticeable in the carpet,
but then again,
that could just be the milk I spilled
when I caught a big fat whiff of the aforementioned regret...

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To Grasp Space Rocks

Hand me down the strength
to whisper and wail like the gods of lore
to tinkle and trample their ears
ride on asteroids,
hands up in the air,
hats catching wind,
and we lose them.
Dig them spurs in deep, gal;
this ride don't stop till Future-time
hath come.

Details | Le Sony'r Ra Poem

Cosmo-Jarg'

Write;
cosmo-talk
shout to me
talk in riddles
speak in cosmo-jarg'
I can talk in all tongues
be they universal ones
[laughter is one of these]
or be internal
I can tell it
speak your mind
in space
orbs.