Best Rasping Poems
"Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
In this performance we call life,
my spirit searches for an interlude of peace.
My poetic mind riots consumed by rhymes,
savaging our memories of grieving beliefs.
I'm a soul rasping winter's woeful wings,
afraid I'll become a poet who ink will forget.
I'm trapped in the desert of dejected demons,
wandering in aching avenues of dreams,
forgotten in ferocious frozen vine's of time,
surrounded by meadows of blood poppies,
Season of death is a cursed caricature of memories,
full of salty tears, bitter goodbyes with spiteful sentiments.
Let me sleep in the synchronicity of angels,
as ebony horizons drift into darkness.
When crimson clouds bleed to paint the sky,
I scream at silent scarlet skies,
as black rain from a dark storm plunders.
Like acid burning my metaphorical paper wings,
I float like a butterfly cursed by moths of deceit,
as hope dances dangerously with my malevolent muse -
grace and hellfire waltz with my heart's chambers.
I can't help but remember last November,
when death clung to the air around me,
as answers we found turned into a designated dead end.
In delirious desires of deathless shadows,
I still see your daggers and cigarettes in a charcoal silhouette,
with your every breath laced with guilt.
Yet, the ghost of your voice lulls me to sleep,
as the silence crawls along the walls at night.
Who are we to judge who is a sinner or a saint.
I wonder if you will walk down the stairs of heaven,
hold me in all my fragility, remind me of childlike charms,
or will rebellious regrets open the gates of hell.
I scream at the Grim Reaper to take my soul,
ravage me, before I go,
but put a white veil on my corpse,
so each night when I visit my grave,
provocative eyes with loose desires,
can feel the wind beneath my sails.
But, gift me one more midnight,
to create my final masterpiece to paint my dreams,
carved with marble white ink,
engulfed in sentimental verses -
for this is poetry, formless suppressed speech.
One day our quill will eternally slumber,
as our conscience passes from poetry to dust.
In the plight of adversity, only I, truly know,
that stars speak stories how simple words were not enough,
as truth only prevails through poetic justice.
Categories:
rasping, angst, death, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Categories:
rasping, inspirational, life, nature, seasonswinter,
Form:
Gasping
rasping
clasping
grasping
condemned man's last gasping, rasping breath,
hands on the noose clasping, grasping- death
(* Tyburn was the site of public hangings in London from the 12th century,
executing everyone from Highwaymen to Clergymen, at what is now Marble Arch)
For contest 'write me a Tyburn', sponsor Kim Rodrigues
24th january 2018
Categories:
rasping, death,
Form:
Tyburn
The cold night air wraps around my shoulders like a moth-eaten shawl.
A rasping rain pelts the bitter sidewalk below.
Visions of what once was flash in and out of the headlights passing by.
How did it all go so wrong, as lovers become nothing more than mere strangers?
Your heart has grown so hardened to my pleading touch.
Ghosts we have become, passing through each other in our home that has slowly become our tomb.
Words have become a foreign language to each other's ears.
How did this divide go from small fractures to seismic shifts?
We loved each other so, now we lay next to each other like phantoms.
How do we bring back the light within our souls,
Before we slip through the cracks of this cold, lonely cityscape?
Shivers run up my spine as it's getting close to 2 a.m. now.
I stick my hands in my weeping pockets and jingle my freezing keys,
Look at the blank screen of my phone, waiting for you to call—but you never do anymore.
I guess it's time to start walking home; you'll be long in bed.
I try to tell myself we can find our love again, I just know it, if we try hard enough.
Walk up to the rain-soaked building, enter with silent tears in my eyes.
Put down my keys, take off my coat, and crawl into bed,
Hoping that when the first rays of sun peek through the blinds of the windows,
The space between us will slowly evaporate like dewdrops on a flower petal.
Categories:
rasping, heartbreak, heartbroken, imagery, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star
Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries
A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn
Categories:
rasping, adventure, allusion, analogy, animal,
Form:
Rhyme
I see you there, for me waiting,
you hover in endless patience,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Yet I linger on, each breath rasping,
as I am clearing my conscience,
I see you there, for me waiting.
Too soon the curtains are parting,
now at an end is my patience,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Time is slowing, it's so daunting,
draining away is my essence.
I see you there, for me waiting.
Grievances now aside casting,
Letting in instead, some cogence,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Death I have treated with voidance,
giving it little reverence,
I see you there, for me waiting,
now I pass, death me is calling.
Categories:
rasping, death, life,
Form:
Villanelle
The amber skein of autumn leaves,
embanks the tumbling torrent
of the splendid forest stream.
A salmon homes to lay its roe.
Follow her, as she curvets
the swollen falls and rasping stones.
Categories:
rasping, beauty,
Form:
Once upon a time
Distant memories
Dawning of morning crystals
Glittering reminder of starlight tears
In sunbeam's brilliance
Lighting jewels shine
Songbirds break into chorus
The smallest fragment of a breeze alerts
The senses whistling
Melodies explode
Through the branches leaves lament
Observing nature's space hold in colors
Fruit of tenderness
Mellow your sunshine
Blossoms love supreme touching
Fingers raise deep golden feelings yearning
Addresses one's heart
Lonely dust remains
Breathing breathless light explores
In darkness echoes bounce off deep caverns
Cold howling shivers
Devouring warm blood
Into the bones whistling ice
Winds voice of the lost souls' eyes turn bright green
As the spirit leaves
Dark moldy shadows
Light of moon sources cravings
Beauties kiss eclipses rose bleeds scarlet
Immortal heartbeats
Life stops ticking bang
Seduced black velvet pleasure
Sinking fangs into the succumbing heart
Drum beats slow echo
Fallen unchained truths
Slithering lizards crawling
Underneath the skin a beastly vision
Storm roars through timbers
Translucent blood slime
Flowing toxic energy
Mutating hollers screech into wolf moon
Scalding hot flames breathe
When red embers burn
Into the lustful ashes
Born inside scarred remains breathing wounds
An itch that scratches
Onto the mindset
Greenish cornea expands
Opening curtains in a split second
Haunting prey on light
Affliction of need
Rasping rattle in the throat
Death yowls airless scream without sun visions
A Collaborated Poem with Liam McDaid and Angeline Lim
Categories:
rasping, dark, grief, heart, metaphor,
Form:
Quatrain
To walk the cliffs of ancient trails
that speak of winds and loss laid bare
midst sounds to tell of all the tales
of lore and truths they beg to share
Taxila, Sanchi and Petra call
with voices rasping in their dust
tongues only whisper since their fall
of Gods who but betrayed their trust
More than hidden treasure left
is wisdom time holds in their stones
a quest to seek their dreams bereft
that repose within their poets bones
Trails that lead to gilded wings
oft will find more precious things
Where I Want To Go Contest
Sponsored by Nicola Byrne
02/19/2017
First Place Contest Winner
Categories:
rasping, history, journey, mystery, places,
Form:
Sonnet
A constant vein of nature’s blood cascading rock and sand,
Flushing grains of dislodged mud. The beat in a mountain band,
Currawongs sing melody. Black Cockies rasping call;
The whispering breeze that shakes the trees, near a waterfall.
Sassafras and twisted ti-tree display a rippling shadow,
Mosses mingling with lichens where the sunlight doesn't show,
Blackwood and Lilly Pilly trunks, struggling for the light,
Lost is the canopy, when mist rolls in a billowed eerie white.
Where there's always a river through a valley in the high country,
There's always something there that takes my breath away from me
along the banks by the shimmer, pristine life is shrouding me,
Walking this river, through a valley in the high country.
The flit is there, sharp eyes note, in camouflage a glistening eye,
A Ground Thrush as still as stone watching me go walking by,
The rustle of the leaves are gentle, attracts a fleeting glance
of a disappearing rodent. Instinct breeds no games of chance.
The reason I am walking here, with times eternal strain,
I find no battle with my mind. Up here the world lives sane,
Life and death hold constant beauty, complimenting every stage.
Slow is change that's left alone, even when the waters rage.
Where there's always a river through a valley in the high country,
There's always something there that takes my breath away from me
along the banks by the shimmer, pristine life is shrouding me,
Walking this river, through a valley in the high country.
Categories:
rasping, nature,
Form:
Lyric
SNOW BIRD
In the dead of winter comes great beauty,
with broody storms and the elegant snow.
The hoarfrost spears hang icy and fluty,
like aliens in guise as they stretch and grow.
Crisp raw are the branches rasping the sky,
as wind comes in a bluster to disturb.
The shadow creatures den under the sigh,
from the deadweight of snow they perturb.
The beauty is sparse and simply at peace,
a waltz in winter that comes on the fly.
The white blizzard storm, we know it will cease,
stopped by the echo of red bird’s soft cry.
Ruby in starlight with ice on his wing,
red bird dreams of Sun and the thaw in spring.
December 5th, 2019
Your Best Sonnet July-December, 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Categories:
rasping, december, nature, seasons, winter,
Form:
Sonnet
Burnished pheasant,
Repulsed by noon's bright sunshine,
Rasping brazenly,
Calls the plump hens to his side...
Hurry to him, concubines.
Categories:
rasping, spring,
Form:
Tanka
‘Turn swords into ploughshares and nightmares to dreams’
I have not one plough and no shares in the market
Insomnia has taken over my nights the rest is illusion
Ambitions are exhausted and hope has no yearning
Freedom dangles on the rope of puppet-less strings
Vacuum reflects an echo of silent ear bursting rasping
Dissonance oozes from cacophony’s apathetic rattle
The heavy clanger of other’s fraudulent forge melts disowned blood
Into ice in my veins as a purulent mind oozes vile battles' cries
Muted by trench feet scraping bottomless mind-fields and apathy
‘Pull yourself out of catatonia’s core-less pits’
But there is no kernel of truth and fruits of desire have rotted
To the acrid stench of a Self carefully lost on broken branches
Snapped composure looms over a well-trodden treacherous path
Carved into an involuntary hermit’s cave by a cliff edged road side
It is grave in the cavern in which vacant vagrants jumble their bones
Disconnect their last possession and wilfully trade skulls and bones
‘This too shall pass and so many others have been stuck in the rot’
And yet suffocation in some muddy sludge is sinking
Slowly and excruciatingly tempting to join forces of evil
A dark rusty anchor floats high on the unreachable ceiling
Time I have endless measures of but the world is upside down
I am out of the picture that has faded memories for the future
Dislodged and dismembered I am a powerful union of nothing
‘Change your perspective and find solace where it is hidden’
So he who is I from the distance finally lets go of unwarranted grip
Descends as far from the surface as possible beyond expectations
And finds footing of the shackles where the ploughshare should be
The spikes pierce my soles and my soul ostensibly drowned in sorrow
At least there is pain and some place in between scars to feel emotions
That tentatively nurture rescue apparently beyond impossible salvation
‘Your advice seemed hollow but there is some loving space left inside my shell’
29th November 2019
Categories:
rasping, courage, depression, hope,
Form:
Free verse
Paltry poetic presidential prattlings on poultry playing
cockalorums chasing chickens, censured to castigate the cockerals,
tricky tray turbo turkey tidbits tentanize the titillations;
wild wispy winds whisper worldly wasted wiry winsome wiles
dancing delights deluding delicate demigod domiciles,
twittering tweets teasing tenacious tantalizing tongue twisters
residing riddled rattled ransom rasping revolving roars,
minority middle men meltdown midst macrocosmic mayhem
Washington's wonderland weeps wreckage within waiting walls.
Categories:
rasping, america, anxiety,
Form:
Blank verse
The Tear Collector
Tears they fall, sometimes bless-ed
In their burning
Watered reminders of a hearts capacity
To connect emotions
Soft welling they sting
And find their language of wet lashes
Run their courses
As ancient rivers carve their way
Through stone barriers
Tears collected vanish in vanquished aches
Evaporate to silence
Leaving their mark, their fragrance
Breathed in the molecules dispersed
Cut to the edges of wishes
Images of longing
Hearts slowly breaking in two
Still holds you
Weep for you
I do
Behind the hard choke rasping and sobs
Moans sniffling for a beauty
Both found and lost
Delivered Jesus to red rimmed eyes
That see beyond and into the sanctity of pain
It cried; I; not for myself
But for you, for her, the rest of the world
Broken by innocence
And ignorance
The heaving heavy chest digs its well of sadness
In slow counted beats of blood
Grief for love
With these sickles gouged deeper to the flaws
And spread their knowing further
Into the fathoms of your soul
Tears; the reflections of venerated smiles
Become the augury of responses
Of sight pierces the darkest, fallen pool
Tears; the written messages of sorrow and laughter
Covert their collection of sacrifices
And fall bless-ed humane
The merciful and pitiable denizens
Of a stronger more courageous face than Gods
They beat with the bravery of flesh
More holy; than heavens sacred
Have these tears
For more sure they are in their tactile salt
Are these tears
Have lived
And in your tears a more profound betterment exists
More, much more of life
Stronger
Braver
And more courageous
To face their own existence
Than the pretence of their presence
In God
Categories:
rasping, life, love
Form:
Free verse