Best Rasp Poems
I am immeasurably honoured to have been invited to collaborate with as fine a poet as Robert Lindley. Our first collaborative process has been very quick, very instinctive and very natural. Thank you, Robert, for a very rewarding joint venture.
As I Plot Just One More Day
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
11th October 2018
Desperate as the waking at blackest dawn
I seek only moments within eternity,
for the day upon me is long
and I do not ponder its end.
Forever the blackened door beckoned
in tones of promising delights
who can know what lies in its beyond
perhaps a cure for the world's pains
I walk halls leading to its hurts
echoes that resounded as if playing
with no malice, future screams at my hesitation
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day.
Decadent as the lust of gloomiest noon
I am immersed in the consummation
and overpowered in the contest, yet hopeful
that still I may embrace eternity's devious charm.
Never ending cycles eat into a wanton soul
they are all too familiar
and their boredom becomes a chain
a rasp in my dying breath
I hear its rhythm and each echo speaks
O' that parade of desires hides deep within
as the dark expands its borders
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day.
Dire as the languishing at darkening dusk
I seek an eternity of moments
to sate my lust and to quell my rage,
to forgive and to be forgiven.
Categories:
rasp, death, desire,
Form:
Free verse
As I Plot Just One More Day
Desperate as the waking at blackest dawn
I seek only moments within eternity,
for the day upon me is long
and I do not ponder its end
Forever that blackened door beckoned
in tones of promising delights
who can know what lies in its beyond
perhaps a cure for the world's pains
I walk halls leading to its hurts
echoes that resounded as if playing
with no malice, future screams at my hesitation
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day
Decadent as the lust of gloomiest noon
I am immersed in the consummation
and overpowered in the contest, yet hopeful
that still I may embrace eternity's devious charm
Never ending cycles eat into a wanton soul
they are all too familiar
and their boredom becomes a chain
a rasp in my dying breath
I hear its rhythm and each echo speaks
O' that parade of desires hides deep within
as the dark expands its borders
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day
Dire as the languishing at darkening dusk
I seek an eternity of moments
to sate my lust and quell my rage,
to forgive and to be forgiven
A Robert Lindley and Lawrence Sharp collaboration
10-11-2018
Poetry Note-
I am very pleased to have found a new and fantastic writing partner
that presents fantastic free verse poetry in its top form. This our first collaboration was a true pleasure and great joy to create. We both found ourselves in tune, as we worked to present this dark free verse poetry, that depicts the darker side of this world, past wayward youthful experiences and a look at what even today our youth face in this unforgiving and to oft deceptive, corrupt and tempting world that rewards darkness, and giving in to wanton desires.
The magnificent verses my writing partner contributed to the creation of this piece sincerely awe me- as I am learning of the depths, beauty, great and high artistic value in creating and reading free verse poetry, Both my thanks and my appreciation come from a sincere and very appreciative heart.
Categories:
rasp, appreciation, art, dark, deep,
Form:
Free verse
**For Ruben O, My little Bro**
(This poem was written and a recording made for the contest sponsored by Team Poetrysoup which was deleted before it was judged. I wonder if this would have received a placement?)
Alarming, how analog clocks can tock back,
sound-off each morning like those hungover barflies
at the laundromat who dive-bomb
buzzing dryers as bleached belles
in heels attack threadbare tiles
with a stomach-turning, M60 click clack,
click clack. All night cafes fare
no better, terrify with their red-eyed twit-ter-
to-woo owls, their jingle-jangle spoons.
Heartlessly, the freaky knock-knock joke
of a barista smacks-down the expresso machine —
grounds for a massacre behind the counter.
The plink-plunk of rainfall deafens.
Birthdays send you into a panic. Too risky,
the onslaught of jubilation, the grenades that wait
in overblown balloons. New Year’s Eve brings histrionics.
Nightmarish, the yellow chimeras of construction
and every screaming chick-a-dee-dee-dee...
Ear plugs are a given.
Heaven is a soundproof room.
Even that plan holds more than a hiccup or two.
Horror resounds everywhere.
Babies thunder by in hot-rod strollers.
Frightening: the gurgles, giggles, ear-splitting rattles.
In the nursing home, an awful rasp of life
roars behind a tissue-thin curtain,
the horrendous lisp of oxygen, so deathly loud.
Categories:
rasp, fear, life, people,
Form:
Free verse
Smiling Spitting Deadly Sins
Son of the Devil evil and twisted when his mask falls away
Through the curtains of death he turns truth into dark lies
With horrible shadows haunting over Love's light so pure
As jealousy reveals shades of a Soul’s envy at this moment
Cunningly you crawl behind colors pride with selfish hurting
Innocence casting stones—the fruits of a hideous lurking evil
Filling you with stupid silly emotions crying crocodile tears
Hate is your playground game as the Dark One takes his souls
Weeping from the deep wounds inflicted on others at your wish
While fighting one lost battle as your words burn from the ugly
Fork of your tongue while spitting venom they become a vile
Poison in which every last drop makes one’s very skin crawl
When I see the light of truth awakening in your Soul’s eyes
I really see a Hell-Fire scorching red hot who is the real you
Your pretty tongue of thy father speaks the evil words of the
King of Lies to my heart as it is touched by the serpent’s rasp
Yet ever you can never always hide behind this perfidious mask
And such words of beauty will not always hide what lies within
The darkest outreaches of your Soul’s descent into damnation
For Love itself is a journey of the gentle divine and the innocent
But those who breathe the Hell-Fire can only fool us all so long
And when their mask falls away they speak with a serpent’s tongue
So vile and gruesome that they know not of Love as they strike and
Bring eternal pain holding the Devil’s sword with their blackened hand
Causing pain with greatest relish as they laugh heartily at the pain
Inflicted on others not really knowing what they hold in their hand
In hate and anger while striking out at all innocent souls as their
Double-edged sword waits for those from the depths of Hell itself
Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 9, 2015 (Unrhymed Quatrain)
Categories:
rasp, betrayal, dark, evil, fantasy,
Form:
Quatrain
Smiling Spitting Deadly Sins
Son of the Devil evil and twisted when his mask falls away
Through the curtains of death he turns truth into dark lies
With horrible shadows haunting over Love's light so pure
As jealousy reveals shades of a Soul’s envy at this moment
Cunningly you crawl behind colors pride with selfish hurting
Innocence casting stones—the fruits of a hideous lurking evil
Filling you with stupid silly emotions crying crocodile tears
Hate is your playground game as the Dark One takes his souls
Weeping from the deep wounds inflicted on others at your wish
While fighting one lost battle as your words burn from the ugly
Fork of your tongue while spitting venom they become a vile
Poison in which every last drop makes one’s very skin crawl
When I see the light of truth awakening in your Soul’s eyes
I really see a Hell-Fire scorching red hot who is the real you
Your pretty tongue of thy father speaks the evil words of the
King of Lies to my heart as it is touched by the serpent’s rasp
Yet ever you can never always hide behind this perfidious mask
And such words of beauty will not always hide what lies within
The darkest outreaches of your Soul’s descent into damnation
For Love itself is a journey of the gentle divine and the innocent
But those who breathe the Hell-Fire can only fool us all so long
And when their mask falls away they speak with a serpent’s tongue
So vile and gruesome that they know not of Love as they strike and
Bring eternal pain holding the Devil’s sword with their blackened hand
Causing pain with greatest relish as they laugh heartily at the pain
Inflicted on others not really knowing what they hold in their hand
In hate and anger while striking out at all innocent souls as their
Double-edged sword waits for those from the depths of Hell itself
Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 9, 2015 (Unrhymed Quatrain)
Categories:
rasp, dark, death, evil, hurt,
Form:
Quatrain
this cooler air seems to mottle the trees
spinning leaves like my thoughts in winded dance
befalling trails of tears on crimson breeze
as they fall grounded beneath the oak's stance
i hear the crumble of death beneath me
as i shiver within its strident gasp
chaotic roots reach out beneath its quay
piquing me with tones of your final rasp
dubious mind much like bare branches snaps
within the disdain utter from dead lips
as it echoes remorse in lifeless slaps
freeing only my body from its grips
my soul stands colorless, naked and numb
mirroring the trees in this autumn glum
December 27, 2019
Entered into Best Sonnet of 2019 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
September 30, 2019
*Quay is pronounced as Ke
Categories:
rasp, autumn, death,
Form:
Sonnet
Ascending within; to feel my happiness climB
Setting out solo; internal ecstasy can providE
Carving contentment by relearning to crawL
Enjoying this wonderful spiritual crescendO
Noticing on the way; all little things contaiN
Dualities in me but don't require explaininG
Intrinsic kaleidoscopes; always up the antI
Needless is it to enforce emotional refraiN
Grasp the view feeling truest in belonginG
Categories:
rasp, deep, inspiration, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Acrostic
Shall I compare thee to your mother's ****?
Thou aren’t more lovely, but more flatulent.
Rough winds do shake it; and bring on a farce
And all her clothes hath all too short a rent
Sometime too hot-headed of hell doth burn,
And often is the true nature exposed;
And every foul from fowl; my stomach churns,
By reason, or by nature's raging closed.
But thy infernal diet shall ne’er start
Nor gain possession of which now I grasp;
Nor shall we meet again; let’s stay apart,
When in eternal sounds the voice does rasp,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can cry,
So long lives this, and I bid thee goodbye.
Categories:
rasp, funny, girlfriend-boyfriend, happiness, health,
Form:
Sonnet
Enjoy the silence, the deep of night.
Not true silence for the word itself is illusion.
Still yourself enough to hear.
Listen for the sounds invoked in the darkness.
Quiet yourself from the inside-out
to perceive more.
The insights revealed during such muted moments
slow us, granting peace and serenity.
Night is a living entity brimming
with sound and industry.
Work, machine, wheel and gear.
A train's low grumbling engine. Its doleful
horn carried mournfully on humid summer air.
The machinery of life resonates. Those working
graveyard hours commute, clock-in, labor.
The stark trumpeting of a siren carries
over the numbed ears of a slumbering city.
A harsh, grating street sweeper toils
joined by the ghosts of twilight
on hushed, shadow-laden avenues.
Voices, song, and music in the night.
Crickets saw a faux-string melody.
Leaves rustle, sweep, and dance
a quiescent refrain on puffs of easy air.
There are drums on the silence as
approaching clouds roll with thunder.
Rains follow.
The timbre of water bubbling upon earth,
rooftop, and walkway.
A great horned owl takes flight.
Its wings "whip, whip, whip," as it directs
the late night aria.
Savor this appealing chorus of sounds
as an all familiar nocturne.
The sounds of silence enrich and help
make tranquil the human heart.
Being part of its lyric, we are calmed
by nature's chorus.
Even the weighty rumble and earsplitting
rasp of thunder can soothe the heart at night.
We are a part of the sound and silence always,
and in all ways.
Sounds in Silence
Free Verse
Categories:
rasp, nature, solitude, sound,
Form:
Free verse
There’s a deathly silence
in the aging night of the living,
a rasp of breath sneaks
out across the candid moor,
like the wail that fails
the carousel of life!
The vigorous wind
slaps the face
creates sensibility
makes the world go away,
life is a continuous storm
clear skies always on the horizon
only when she smiles
does the sunshine.
The poison within
the mind in constant need,
if only to forget the good times
when strolling in summer madness,
simplicity down school lane
nature’s betrayal ever so subtle
after all, one just wanted
to touch the moment!
© Harry J Horsman 2000
Categories:
rasp, remember,
Form:
Free verse
Craze comes out of barrel of joy,
Joy, what makes you behave coy,
Coyness, a thing that would get a toy
From the soul, hands of a smart lil' boy
That his head bobs in saving his mother,
Mother, the filial original not really similar
Similar? To the father, rasp voice that quiver
From the garden of marital rupture. It'ld linger
Over the elms of gut, ebbing with the tide
Of bliss ended. Never should beings all hide
The love, warmth of family. Filial code to side
A broken china, a shattered shuttle that'ld bide
Brittle bliss. Come in the evenings and laugh
At the debris of the drum, a rumble of cough
Upon anodyne ruble of ruin. Feed from trough
O! Love if you aren't life. Then live quickly, rough.
Categories:
rasp, depression, inspirational, life, lost
Form:
Didactic
My Grandpa was inimitable… uncommon.
He could make a story out of a passing wind
and have me crying, giggling like an imp--
this God-given knack could spin yarns of myth
that even my siblings rasp with bulging eyes ,
mouths wide as a crater, entranced from
delicate plots soaked in mystery.
Every trail was one step away from anticipation,
but a story was a story, the larger the better…
how could a pirate turn into a lizard
or a starlight emerge as a queen?
It didn’t matter what the tale was about,
for between, “And then” and “Later on,”
my gasp was sucked deep into
another world beyond my own knowing.
Oh Gramps would pull out his violin
while we both serenaded the clouds,
unmindful of Granny’s holler
from the kitchen. Somehow, no one
had the power to wheel us back to reality –
not yet: Not until he passed on in his sleep
at 68--- my young adult-heart ravaged, minced.
I wipe these vintage books he left for me,
a scent of faint cigar drifting among earmarks
which likely mesmerized, invigorated
those he entertained around his theater-stage…
and I , a dear audience, was the special one of all.
Broken Wing’s Contest: Old jewelry or Just old things,
or Old, Old Poems
10/31/2016
Categories:
rasp, books, grandfather,
Form:
Narrative
I long to lie like a sunrise sky upon the sea
my flame a tender torch for your gasoline tide
freedom fire to burn the brine from my eyes
fluid movements our soft inferno in sorbet shades
m ~e ~l ~t ~i ~n ~g
blushed in hush of dawn like fevered lovers
my soul a bleeding rose rocked by your rhythm
—but the blaze does blister a bliss not consumed
a wailing gull slices wild air
with sharpened wings she rides a woeful gale
labor pains of thunder throb nimbus wombs
hornet hive clouds cut by cesarean lightning
birth swarms of stinging rains
I wander a wind whipped shore of cloudburst gore
with an ache for angst and a hate for faith in blue skies
plaintive cries break the bones of my widow’s dream
exposing my marrow my pledge to the Divine shallow
I throw myself on my knees
belly-crawling-ripples meet me with a rasp
I long to lie like a sunrise sky upon the sea
but sorrow creates a sunset tempest
and now the sun sits so low
I feel the sundown in my soul
oh the slouchy sun just sits so low
drowsy on the smudged edge of drowning
barely above the waterline like my breath
sea– I beg you meet me choke me
take me by the throat with a kiss salty sweet
sweep me out to your blackened deep
take me thief my grief in grasp of your riptide’s greed
Categories:
rasp, angst, grief, longing, loss,
Form:
Free verse
It's really quite simple,
watch, I'll show you.
Flip your wrists,
turn them upward,
now bend them back.
grasp...
Slice deep,
bleed your mind,
let it go...
Painful?
It's better that way.
Now watch it trickle,
drop by drop, float down
blue, now red, it flows
a rasp of wind falls,
a gasp of air chokes.
heavy is your breath,
exhale...
it's all stale anyway,
no need to breathe it back in.
Feel the thunder of your heart?
Faster and faster,
it falls like night's approach
until your mind cuts deep
and hangs the sun once again...
Does it matter?
No one will ever see the whites
of your sunken eyes,
they only see the spills of crimson,
your trickled thoughts
scribbled on paper rags
as you die one more time
from within...
Categories:
rasp, death,
Form:
Free verse
Closing my eyes I can see you again
My whirligig, dancing as if on water
Not watching my fingers play
Bow loosely threaded like your dancing hair
Red reflected in the flames behind you
Colouring my eyes with warmth and longing
While my hands tire, my arms sink
My violin hits the ground I hear them say
Boy, play me some more, their faces
Grey and distorted while all I want to see
Is you, all I want is your husky voice
The rasp of your fresh beard on my skin
Walking to the dying fire, trampling ashes
Raising my arms and once more seeing
You, arms around me, dancing together
Your soft hum in my ear, while you hold my
Violin high, bowing for me, striking a chord
In my heart, forever in my heart
***
April 26, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
rasp, lonely, muse, romance, romantic,
Form:
Free verse