Best Raided Poems
You have raided my night again,
as the burst of a sudden storm,
sneaking into my loneliness,
at the most unexpected hour,
plunging me into swirls of pain
too deep for expression,
leaving me in utter disorientation.
I now drift aimless with muddled thoughts,
through the dingy avenues of the past,
never once able to sever the chord,
that binds me so tight to those memoirs,
exposing me to torrid heat
with my soul, burning down….
like a piece of smouldering coal.
Sleepless are my nights.
Dreamless are my days.
Like the sundown shadows growing bigger,
with every stride I take,
the farther I move, the closer you follow.
Can I convince you ever again,
I never meant any harm to you.
How wearily have I watched the flies,
lured by the dazzling light,
char into diminutive specks of black,
by the scorching tongues of flame.
Still, why did I let you burn,
in the flame of my accursed passion?
You were like a flower admired from afar,
afraid of even the gentle breeze coming near,
lest it might jolt the delicate frame,
and shake the petals down, sooner than due.
Yet vulnerable turned the moment,
when all of a sudden, it started to rain.
Like a child, eager to play in the puddles,
you ran out into the pouring rain.
All soaked through and through,
You came in…. awhile my gaze,
rested on the filmy fabric,
seductively clinging to your curves.
Then, that wild surge…. beat me down.
And Alas! Under a magnetic pull,
surrendered your fragile self with ease.
At that moment of self-abandonment
looted off all that you held chaste.
Never surmised, you were crying,
when I felt your cheeks, so wet.
Now I know, it was agony,
not ecstasy that I, then, beheld on your sentient face!
You refused to respond to my calls.
Unanswered went all my anxious queries.
Like a hibernating toad,
to some dark underground cave, you slid.
Abruptly, alerted on call,
by an alien sound, far from familiar
I hastened to the casualty ward,
and saw you lying limp,
with drops of blood, still dripping down
from your slashed wrist,
staring at me with an open mouth!
As I watched you lying still
with your eyes refusing to flutter,
I knew my world tottering below,
and my heart, set ablaze,
into a funeral pyre.
Amidst the binge of the champagne, and the glitter on the faces, she heard the
distant lullaby. Glistening repertoire of appreciation elated her, but her soul had been
far forlorn. She smiled her way through the ballroom, shaking hands, wishing
prosperity and hugging the nonchalant children, who didn't even remember her...
their innocent, curious eyes, complacent enough to defy contact.. but still she bore
them momentary warmth.. and quietly soon enough, they gleamed with fondness
towards her. That made her happy. She danced through her guests graciously,
illuminating even the minuscle flicker of the dynamism that inflamed her celebration of
triumph. It was her day of glory, but somewhere, the gaping hole within her had
grown deeper.
She couldn't bear the tinge of strangers crawling beneath her destiny.Like cobwebs
spun all around her, she gasped for someone to call her own. The outlanders raided
her memories in the making. Her soul became an illicit labyrinth that had been
expanding like a monster. She couldn't find her people! Her People. Everywhere she
looked, her vision proliferated from Void. How could she hide from darkness itself?
She cried, but...
A sudden loud burst of laughter from a nearing clan hurled her back to reality. The
strange realization that she had been ruminating through her desires, made her
smile naively. She knew she couldn't be happy. The lust for satisfaction glided life into
her. She resumed her counterfeited solace. To tunes so subtly high and alone, she
began dancing again.
Only till the guests had left, she looked at the empty glasses and collected her tears.
She saw her reflection...The splendour of the ballroom in the background, the beige
on her body and the silence....she felt alive, only, to die again.
~~Won 2nd prize for the Dark Prose Poetry Contest~~
~~~~Thank You all, so very much ~~~~
You remember her running to find the beach
And when an adventure was eating a peach
And nothing she wanted was out of reach
You remember her terrified of anything new
So fragile and brave the first day of school
Then proudly parading the picture she drew
You remember the first Halloween she created
That goulish green dress, and the glitter she raided!
You found it today, in a box, old and faded
You remember so much - her first Christmas play,
Her first slumber party, her first grounded day
You see the years, like a thief, slowly stole her away
She'll run now alone to her life, and choose
Her own path to what she will find, and lose
This is her stage, her spotlight, her bow
Love her forever, let her go now.
Love raided the heart
And occupied my mind
There was no chance
But to surrender
For, the love army surrounded the gates
Hopes failed
Wishes shattered
Army encountered
Ceasefire was restored
I began to forget the hard days
The army again planned an offence
Where I had no chance of defence
From then on:
I am in a state of alert
Where I cannot avert
The sweet pain of love
Cold the winter night as snow fell,
it drifted- collected on streets;
where a meandering lost girl struggled to walk,
weary and tired;
she ran away when it was warm,
when she had some money.
Now- had no shelter or money,
the wild frigid wind blew and blew;
when she could no longer walk she lay down in snow,
weary and tired;
down she sank into the soft snow,
a man knelt beside her.
He picked her up in his strong arms,
she woke up with a warm blanket;
he gave her food, a bath and nice clothes to put on,
weary and tired;
she just followed his instructions,
how to give a massage.
The massage parlor was a front,
it was really a bawdy house;
a brothel- she felt tarnished and stained forever,
weary and tired;
the things she did were disgusting,
often had a black eye.
He gave her some drugs by needle,
so she would be like a zombie;
she lay down on the dirty floor and closed her eyes,
weary and tired;
the police raided in a sweep,
found her dead on the floor.
They closed the place down, busted all,
the doors were padlocked- was shutdown;
the police never identified the dead girl,
weary and tired;
was buried in an unmarked grave,
just another lost girl.
_______________________
February 12, 2021
Poetry/Verse/Weary and Tired
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1328-100-12
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, They Closed The Brothel
sponsor, Kai Michael Newmann, Judged 03/05/2021
First Place
There was once a king who decided that for him - beauty was silence.
He issued a decree that all sound was banished henceforth and that his land would forever more be as silent as snow. To enforce this impossible law he sent countless envoys to every corner of the land. Every creature was informed. No birds can sing. No dogs must bark. No man, woman or child could speak their needs and must now make them known by signs. Even the very thunder was ordered to be mute.
The penalty of course was death. Few were able to obey.
Flocks of birds were shot from the heavens. Dogs were slain before their master’s eyes. All the trees were stripped of leaves lest the wind should sigh through them. Brooks were frozen so water could not splash or gurgle down the stream beds.
It was like a permanent winter with bare trees and frozen ground.
Children at play were wiped out without mercy. Cows being herded were bombed for lowing. This unmerciful killing went on for many years.
The merest sound so angered the King that he ordered atrocious punishments for offenders that he did not kill.
The talents of artist were in great demand as they painted cards for all occasions for people to flash. in lieu of speaking. The effect on the population was to cause the formation of many covert societies where secret meetings, when betrayed, were raided and countless murders committed by the ‘silence’ enforcers.
The King was greatly feared by everyone and dubbed “Snowman - the Silencer”
Generations of good people were wiped out. Countless noisy species were hunted to extinction. Music was never heard or played.
Silent clocks were invented. Sound-proof rooms were built. Some desperate parents, to protect their children, opted to have their babies larynx-es removed at birth.
The King was surrounded by silent apathetic, joyless subjects.
The King’s obsession had effectively destroyed all the people, the life and the environment around him.
How much easier it would have been, if he, in wanting silence had only thought to destroy his own eardrums.
With cavemen like grunts they extract themselves from their pit
Unable to communicate on a level you can understand …
spouting three letter syllables such as ‘IDK’ and ‘meh’
Eyes red from lack of sleep, but what do they care
Too much time playing on their computers and phones
You worry they don’t interact with ‘real’ friends
Your fridge gets raided; milk is glugged and gulped
Cereals and bread disappear at an alarming rate
When you open your cupboards they are bare
The beast then stumbles into the bathroom
When they finally emerge you gag under a cloud of deodorant
Try asking them a question about what time they will be home …
They react as if you are subjecting them to interrogation
This species is not uncommon – many of us have one in our house
TEENAGERS!
Received N/A in a Contest finalised on 04/05/2016
submitted to second chance#3 sponsored by Broken wings
04~03~16
The birdfeeder hung on a narrow limb,
away from deck rails, discouraging squirrels.
No problem for the little robber
who raided the feeder day by day.
Repeatedly, he climbed onto a tender branch,
inching forward until it bent, riding it down.
Each trip, he leaned off and dropped freestyle,
disappearing inside with only a furry tail visible.
He emerged with both cheeks bulging ,
and sunflower seeds scattering below.
On a continuous march of palm-less thievery,
the brassy chipmunk mouthed his loot home,
adding to his cache.
As I walked into a family restaurant,
My nose got tickled all of a sudden
By a familiar aroma that entered my nostrils.
It transported me back to the years long past,
When I was a child at my far away home
In my mother’s kitchen on a Christmas day.
The smell of chicken stew and *‘appam’
And the intoxicating taste of steaming tea,
Raided my memory with deep nostalgia.
The spicy aroma of her kitchen still haunts me
And how I miss her culinary talents!
Amid this smell, pops up her smiling face.
When I catch such scent, how my mind runs to my mother.
Though she is not with me now, what sweetness is there
For those memories that tie me to my mother
And wish those smells should never fade away.
It gives me the feel that she is with me, so close.
When the smell of Jasmine wafts through the air,
It always brings memories of our first night,
When I timorously entered my husband’s room,
Carrying the delicate texture of a dream,
Lending romance to the still night.
His bewitching presence and endearing words,
Filtered down into my mind, making me feel
Both of us being lodged and lost in a fairy land.
When we mingled and melded into one,
In a spark emitting sensuous indulgence,
Never thought we would be together all these years
Drinking from the same cup, the bubbling wine
And the bitter, acidic potion of pain, alike.
Holding on to those honey dripping memories,
I re-live those heavenly moments.
Is it not strange that "memories buried
in the wavering wash of time" are stirred,
that lie ash laden when olfactory senses activate,
the neurons of our brain from time to time!
* Appam- a Kerala( Indian) delicacy.
Santa stood in the warehouse
Full of nearly empty shelves
Last night they’d been ram raided
By a bunch of discontented elves
Recently infiltrated and recruited
Into an association of packing staff
Whose ideas and demands and wants
Caused Santa to cynically laugh.
He could have held out for longer
That much was very clear
But the clever blighters
Had subverted his reindeer
To make matters even worse
Pushing poor Santa to the edge
The blighters had gone and clamped
His only working sledge
Only thirty days to Christmas
He knew of no other way
Than to meet their demands
For increased shift working pay
He’d do what it took
To bring things back on track
And ensure he had enough
To fill his mammoth sack
He reached for the Gordon’s
For one last large stiff gin
Then went to arbitration
With a forced and fixed grin
...But the problem with apologies
is where exactly do we start?
The Aztecs took thousands of slaves,
and ‘praised their gods’ but cutting out hearts.
The Indians enslaved each other,
and settlers in the many wars,
but the Spanish enslaved them,
equal opportunity horror.
And the British enslaved the Irish,
three hundred thousand sent across seas,
often used when black slaves were not,
since they were comparably cheap.
The black slaves people had to buy
from squabbling African kings,
raided their foes for human cargo,
they profited off the damn thing!
China had slaves, and India too,
Ancient Romans, Egyptians, and Greece…
But of all these civilizations
which one set out to make it cease?
It wasn’t the great peoples of the past
that fought hard to end this great pain,
the western word drove slavery’s end,
no other cultures can make that claim.
Folks today have no perspective
of the evil we put in the dirt,
slavery was no exception,
it was long the norm on this earth.
And now, instead of celebrate
this huge and moral achievement,
we’re demonized because back then
we had not yet set the precedent?
We’re told we have to give folks cash,
that it is all ‘stolen money,’
when most of this country’s great wealth
was born in states where labor was free?
Look at the south and at the north
way back during the civil war,
the slave states starved in slow collapse,
the free state out-built them and more.
When less than two percent of folks
ever claimed that they owned a slave,
to blame us all is asinine,
dishonors those who died to save
the country from this age-old sin,
those who ought to try a new path,
and insults all those alive right now
who think slavery worth our wrath.
But if you still want apologies
look at every one close to you,
their ancestors were slave-owners,
and guess what? Yours owned them too.
So strong and abrupt an ancient race
With lusts and sins they raided this place
These men of OLE, few say did see
The sons of angels, no choice to be
Who were these men? A flash of light!
These giants of men who hastened man's plight
A mutant race, a mule of men
A hybrid race, born of sin
Who were these souls of flesh and skin?
A flash of light! The Nephilim.
Our religious institutions
Are now filled with spiritual prostitution
Worshiping dollar bills
Instead of the one whose blood spilled.
Preachers administer biblical laxatives
Making many thin
Where is the Holy Spirit?
Who is supposed to shine within?
There is Accountability
And Responsibility
When your flocks is left emaciated,
Emotionally raided
But you’re afraid you’ll be hated.
The word of God is sharper than any two edged sward
If you eat the real gospel great will be your reward
Complicated the living word that is simple
Afraid the sheep won’t leave with dimples.
Ear tickling messages burning in flames
When you were supposed to bring Gods name fame
The truth hurts.
Hurt me with the truth!
Eternity is a long time to suffer for my youth.
Hypnotically medicated
By an enemy who is dedicated
Did you ever really give God your all?
Did you really answer his call?
The assignment rest in the makers hands
And, yes there are spiritual demands.
Everyone these days is offended
I rather you offend me now
Cause the word says every knee,
Every knee will bow!
You’re Hungry with in
Because you worship your sin
Looking everywhere but to the king
Ruler over everything.
Many cry into the wind
Pride stops you from confessing your sin
The wages of sin is death,
Do you know if you get a next breath?
The waves are crashing
The earth is groaning
Masses are roaming.
The rain longs to wash it away
But only you can choose life today.
BY: Sabina Nicole
A very loyal woman was Miep Jan Gies,
Brave, caring, and really very wise -
She was confident and daring - On her some lives depended
Now, following her story, so many minds have mended.
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Considering the worsening situation for the Jews, the Franks decided to go into hiding in the secret annex of their office building. Miep gladly agreed to be a helper, bringing them food that she would gather from different grocers with ration cards.
She and her co-workers were able to keep the family hidden for over two years, but eventually they were betrayed. The annex was raided by the Nazis on August 4, 1944, and the occupants were sent to concentration camps. Miep found Anne Frank's diary and put it away for the family's return.
She was a great source of hope and motivation for the Franks; they couldn’t have lasted long without Miep’s help.
My name is Bond, Els Bond, and I live in Africa where I was born and belong.
On my continent, I do not work solo – my entire herd shares my mission mojo.
Here, many human lives are needlessly spent from illness meds would prevent.
Spying, I learned drug companies and doctors require green to become helpers.
My herd needs green vegetation so I tried human green as an exploration.
It upset my digestion, concerned me and launched my herd’s investigation.
Zebras meant well, monkeys and tigers did, too, so I gave them things to do.
I credit them now, though they fell apart over who was in charge of who
and could not recall instructions without many elephant-styled, memory clues.
In summary, we worked day and night gathering all in dire health plights.
For months we have brought humans to our camp, way out of snooping-sight.
Step one done, the other animals fell apart just as step two was due to start.
Ms. Currency-Cent, my assistant, helped me plan for any possible resistance.
Disguised as double-decker buses, we raided the city for all drugs in existence.
Many raids went down before a doctor and surgeon were found, then bound,
thrown in our trunks, taken to camp, where shaken, not stirred, they emerged.
Now they are too busy with the ill to feel any first waves of a selfish cave.
Tonight – step three: acquire a special hostage, not that we feel man can stop us, but to guarantee an eventual global mention of our elephant herd’s intentions: We wish media to showcase our success over medical greed’s endless feed.
As my bravest brother and sister elephants stand guard with grand eminence,
I am in route to kidnap a drug CEO while hoping this final plan is pure excellence.
My gentle, intelligent side now calls upon my side much braver
because there is one plan component my brain does not favor -
access to my target is only gained by an elevator.
Brian Strand's Personification Contest
December 11, 2016