Best Raging Poems
Finger in the hole in the dike
Holding back vast volumes
Of raging emotions
Surely to sweep me away
I try some comforting
Favored music from my past
Grab a book
To distract my fear
Linger in the Black Hole
of despair
Reach out to memories
Misty unrealities
Sweet and sour
I pass another hour
Only the peace of sleep
And ultimately death
Will bring craved relief.
There was a time in life so long ago
when all my visions suddenly seemed dark;
the nighttime sky was void of moonlight’s glow,
and sunless winter days were grey and stark.
I felt as though the walls were closing in,
and squeezing from my soul my very life
as I was drowning in my sea of sin
surrounded by the darkness and the strife.
As I lay in the gutters of my dreams,
a hand so tenderly reached out to me;
a stranger lifting spirits from extremes
then bridged the raging waters of my sea.
His soft grey eyes so gently gave a nod,
and suddenly I saw the face of God.
May 17, 2020
Poem of the Day - May 19, 2020
Aaarrhhh!
You say it's not working again, dear
Curse that piece of metal junk,
it only works on Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Part-time dishwashing machine ...
and half of the time when it do work, it only get the dishes half-clean
It decided to go on labor strike,
two months after the warranty expired
Go figure ...
it need to be put on the back of a salvage truck,
with a sign saying: Lazy machine for hire
Don't know why the missus so loves you
If I had three wishes, here's what I'd do ---
number one:
permanently pull your plug
number two:
cover you in the garage with a mechanic's rug
number three:
sell your parts without so much as a shrug
Then knowing that I put you down, I'd be satisfied
with having to wash and rinse my own drinking mug
I hate your nuts and bolts ...
if it was up to me, this would be murder she wrote
But luckily for you, my wife doesn't feel that way,
and you get to have an execution stay
Aaarrhhh!
You also get to rattle and shake for another day
Well, guess it's time to call a repairman,
then call the manufacturer and get an extended warranty plan
the whole world is happening at the same time
every conversation, every bird call, every lion roar
every everything bunched up to oneness in my head
I carry the white noise of distance wherever I go
I am an out of tune radio coursing through debris
and tin whistle high notes playing one key in harmony
that is my head, that is my thunderstorm in stereo
imagine a life having to speak over an orchestra
but there is a beauty and stability to hearing
all the insects of the world crawling along
simultaneously with every wave and fish fuzz in water
wait, I think I can hear the flowers growing
the leaves falling, the sand rearranging on every beach
though if it can happen a little less loudly
so it doesn’t fill my every second, that would be ok
now, and it has taken sleeplessness,
I am privy to galactic secrets, the gods are chattering
all at once so I’m none the wiser for the cacophony
just full of loud
RAIN
raging
relentless
I was a small girl
amid the violence
paralyzed by the bruised skies
“I was mesmerized by the force.”
[Clarity Pyramid, two triplets and a single line (7 lines in all)]
When the storm raged, I stood by the river.
Neptunian furrows bloom when I frown.
Navy blue lightning struck my brow, shiver.
When the storm raged, I stood by the river.
Striving to crook and praise the sky silver.
The wind is blowing then the tide will sound.
When the storm raged, I stood by the river.
Neptunian furrows bloom when I frown.
Written: March 12, 2023
Raging Reality
Love lost cannot find the freshness it once knew.
Haunting past memories absorb sanity.
Spellbound, last illusions, and joys say, “adieu.”
Flickering dreams blanket deaths black reality.
Haunting past memories absorb sanity.
Reality grips hate’s raging encasement.
Flickering dreams blanket deaths black reality.
Final mockery proclaims a new standard.
Haunting past memories absorb sanity.
Spellbound, last illusions, and joys say, “adieu.”
Flickering dreams blanket deaths black reality.
Love lost cannot find the freshness it once knew.
© Name withheld until after the contest
May 9, 2010
Poetic form: Pantoum
Beauty, rest with the stars
a perfect night to behold
longing eyes lock
over two shots
of Chopin chilled
one teasingly taste
and lips are licked
as tongues penetrate deep
we curl into the reckless
taking no for an answer
when the clocks hit midnight
I gently hum to her
as our sins are shrewn
across the floor
our heat melting the chilled air
as fires hypnotically rage
into the dawn
……….gale force winds announce the doom
…………………..portent of a dark and deathly gloom
…………………………..a maddening shriek of raging wind
……………………….howling terror the frightening din
………….rips great trees from the ground
….tosses the structures all around
………….raging malice haunting fright
………………twister spinning in the night
……………………….darkened clouds surging
…………….wind and rain merging
…..funnel of mighty hell
..tolls the death knell
…………terrors bloody ride
…………………..nowhere to hide
…………spinning away
…….from all that
…………..used to be
……..what we
…………called
………..this
………..life
I stand, facing the roaring deep
I stand, and get jolted from my petrified sleep
A most wonderful sight
A most phenomenal sight
Waves, unleashing their fury
Waves, battling, wild and free
Waves, tainted with all the shades of blue
Beautiful, accompanied by their foamy tattoo
It is almost as if those waves are angry
Angry, simply to be
Angry, for they know not why do they roar
Angry, wanting to be soothing, but having to move the seafloor
I stand, facing them,
And feel in their rage, my own mayhem
Yes, there, in front of me, does be a violent pandemonium
And there, inside of me, does be a similar fiery abysm
Waves, surrounding on all sides, my birthright
Waves, reminding me of the power of fate
Why, however rich and historical does be the past
Nothing, nothing about it does ever last
Such a powerful havoc
Wanting it seems, to give the shores a shock
Or, wanting to reach them, to die in their cliffs
Out of love, or just acting blindly, lost in its own grief
Pray, majestic are the waves as they keep crashing with determination
Here, in this world, we all do act out our duties
Even if we find no meaning in these docilities
For only in doing such, we shall all get our redemption
I stand, facing the roaring deep
Jolted, startled from my petrified sleep
Waves, tumultuous and fulminating
Waves, facing me, waves, in me, waves, all soul inspiring!
Monday 15 August 2016
Inspired by the slashing waves at Les Roches Qui Pleurent
Mauritius
There was a Red Indian Chief
his name was Raging Waters
he lived a pleasant life
surrounded by his four wives
They took care of all his needs
gave him strong sons and daughters
he ruled mainly in peace not war
apart from raids on the Black Hawks
It was one of his joys to sneak up
and steal their very fine horses
and to capture some of their squaws
these he could trade for guns and whiskey
As time went on he grew very troubled
he consulted with the medicine man
who sent him to the hot bath teepee
there smoking his pipe he relaxed
Soon the visions started to appear
war was on the horizon he could see
also a squaw so comely he lost his heart
he left the teepee and sent out scouts
They scoured the lands searching for her
at last one came back with the news
she belonged to the Crows and was promised
gathering up a raiding party, he set off
At dead of night they sneaked into position
then rushed the camp catching the Crows off guard
they killed the warriors and took the squaws,
children and horses too and well tanned hides
Now there had to be a comeback from this deed
Mighty Hawk gathered his tribes of Crows
and set off for Raging Waters camp for revenge
barely escaping he fled for the mountains
There with just a handful of warriors and squaws
he set out to build up the tribe once more
when at last they had enough warriors
he set out to recapture that beautiful squaw
Never had he forgotten her soft lips on his
driven wild by his desire, he lost all caution
warned by his medicine man it would end badly
he paid no heed and set out to make war
The Crows soon heard he was on his way
and set a terrible trap in between the hills
Raging Waters and his warriors were cut down
the unlucky ones were scalped then given to the squaws
Who beat them and treated them harshly as slaves
thus a lesson was learned do not take promised squaws
Raging Waters name was in time lost in the annuals
his tribe no more, just forgotten ghosts in time
inspired by soup mail chat with Sandra
words
fitting-together
like patchwork,
then, sound spills
like a chorus thrills,
then the poem,
a fire raging
consuming,
overwhelmingly the air,
with urgency,
I stand far away,
in timelessness....
listening.
Sleepy eyes awake to crashing sounds on window panes
Creeping animals scramble around bristling forests nesting for a spot
while thousands of mad ants crusade in barren fields storing food in tiny plots
Along the busy high way meandering trees parted wide asphalted roads
and thick wavering clouds peak above shrouded path waiting for it to start.
Countless loaded trucks speed down bending roads honking horns
forewarning oblivious travelers not to take a chance
In the center of town busy shoppers paraded the crowded plaza
Ignoring beckoning dark clouds pressing upon them from pregnant skies.
Laughing children swing high on Ferris wheels
grown men tossed up down expanded roller coasters
screaming out of control
amused with laughter.
Unforeseen the gigantic Ferris wheel halted
And a terrifying sound emerged from beneath
Stealing the happy children’s delightful laughter
thick black clouds overshadows
the sounds get louder and confusion drenches the streets
dust and debris flutter in the atmosphere
A thunderous sound spits venomous vengeance
whipping and lashing
whistling and barking
and maneuvers the busy town
it dances from city to city
Wrenching up a destined path
disseminating people all over the streets
But the terrified children grip tightly
Kept calm and ride out the raging storm
©2013 Christine Phillips
What a shame, a crying shame,
Forests, serene, so tame,
Have to burn till crusty and dry
As they breath their last sigh!
Proud tall old trees that suffer,
And weep as flames
Crackle below, creeping
Higher and higher,
Engulfing them in an
Ocean of fire!
They shed tears not for them-selves
But mostly for humanity,
What will you do without us
They cry,
This Planet is doomed,
Look out, or Earth will
Wither and die.
Flames can be seen from afar
As branches turn their faces
Away from their pain and a
Dripping flow of
Burning leaves,
Whisper their story,
Of eons, of glory.
Heat waves unbearably hot,
Have fueled these
Furious forest fires
No means of protecting
Their beauteous facade,
Alas, trees sway
This way and that,
Can bear no more, succumb
To a surrounding inferno,
Unbearable to see them so,
As like dominoes they fall,
And let out a dying call,
Humanity hear us now,
Come together and stop
This carnage,
For it is for you we cry,
As we burn and slowly fry!
All this was predicted
Millenniums ago,
Don’t forgo
The wise sayings of
Yester year,
We feel and see your fear,
Take a step back,
Renew your view,
Don’t just look ahead,
We learn from the old
And the new,
Take heed, we
Are speaking to you!
Melting glaciers at the poles
Hurricanes, tornadoes
Earthquakes, unrest and killing
Amidst a Covid Pandemic,
Always remember
We need each other,
Worldwide organizations
Have put Planet Earth
On red alert,
A humanitarian disaster
By coming together,
We must avert.
The summer sky suddenly turned into a zealous stadium.
Sun like a raging bull inside the ring of fuming helium,
full on fire with flaring flames coming out of its nostril.
Fidgeting in the middle with flickering rays like horns, until --
A set of dark clouds like toreros entered the bull’s realm.
The annoyed sun took a charge towards the cloud with helm.
The one who was waving the cape of shadow from the front
had to bear the stroke of a light beam, the attack’s brunt.
Soon the stormy winds like picadors riding on the horses
came in with their piercing lances full of dust with force.
A powerful thrust by the stormy winds exhausted the sun.
Diminished spark, broken light but the bull was not yet done.
Silver lining could be seen dispersing from the sun’s core.
The bull was ready to score but weakened with gore.
Came in the murk suited in shades of gloom like banderilleros
and made a fierce attack on sun with heavy rain like banderillas.
The thwarted struggling bull faced severe brutality in serial,
making its way through the overgrown dark doom so surreal.
By then, a bold entry made by the zapping thunderous matador
with a flashing lightning bolt like sword, struck hard the sun’s core.
Oozing out the dark crimson blood smeared all over the sky.
Dying symbol of positivity shattered my heart and made me cry.
Either its a battle or a sport like this ends with loss and gain.
Spare me the horror...I don’t want to experience it again.
08/16/2016
Note : For the contest (Wordscapes) by John Hamilton.
*Placed Third*
In this poem, a thunderstorm caused by low pressure in summertime especially in tropical regions resulting in the battle between sun and storm is described as bull fighting sport scene. Excuse me for putting in a few Spanish terms.