Best Ravaged Poems
He espied her all alone
In the open by the lake
Sighed in lustful undertone
And her body craved to take.
Golden orange, rusty brown
What a beauty! Flaming hot!
She looked awesome in her gown
He seduced her on the spot.
He embraced her in his arms
Stripped her naked to the skin
Without feeling any qualms
He took pleasure in his sin.
She succumbed to the ordeal
The abuse went on at length
There was nothing else to feel
But the fury of his strength.
When the frenzy came to nought
Overcome by need for haste
Trembling wind an exit sought
And the tree was left to waste.
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Contest: My Last Contest (Jan 2015)
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Placing: 1st
(14th July 2014)
Contest: Not Just Any Old Quatrain
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Placing: 2nd
Ravaged Raven
On returning from work, I always pass near the cemetery
And always find no life moving there, almost same scenery.
But today was a different day. I stopped my car at the gate
The cawing began, wind whipped, birds arrived in droves.
Big black birds were landing over the place, on the graves.
It seemed to be like a scene out of the movie “The Birds”
Flapping of the wings indicating a big accident to happen.
It reminded me of many superstitions and scores of myths
That surround the crow and its larger cousin, the ravens.
Ravens are associated with death in many of the cultures
As they are found feeding on animals and human remains,
A soothsayer, an omen of death, as a creator and cleanser.
I saw a lady standing near the tombstones looking at horizon
First I thought her to be a Goddess Morrigan of Irish battle
As both crows and ravens were her allies and companions,
Dressed in white but this woman was in black with a pistol.
Will name her Raven, visiting the tomb of the dear one
Who is dead, but once lived, felt dawn and saw sunset
Loved and was loved and now he lies in this cemetery.
As if she got the inner message from her dead one
“To take up the quarrel with the foe and take the revenge.
And will not sleep in peace if you break faith with me”.
As if she has come with a pistol to console her dear one
With salty tears stinging her face, emotions begin to race
I miss you so, why did you have to go when heart is wary.
I have come to you to touch your name engraved in stone
Trying to be strong and brave, to avenge your enemy
And one day in heaven we will be together happy again.
+++
September 26, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Second Place win
Contest: Raven by Kelly Deschler
~~*~~
And I am lost in a sea of sorrow,
The drums of time never cease to be;
Memories drop like pebbles in a well,
And I have dreamt a sad dripping dream.
The drums of time never cease to be,
My life weather stained and ravaged;
And I have dreamt a sad dripping dream,
Curtains stir with the whispering past.
The drums of time never cease to be,
Memories drop like pebbles in a well;
My life weather stained and ravaged,
And I am lost in a sea of sorrow.
_______________________
August 8, 2015
Pantoum - unrhymed
For the contest, Your Best Poem With Metaphors
Sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
The second time I remember we meet. Looking at you upon my visit.
Rotted black encrusted feet. No longer lustrous and standing.
Nasal gastric tube in your nare. No running scheduled feedings.
Seeing you abandoned in the nursing home showed that the staff no longer had
any cares.
Balled in a fetal position. Shocked that you were ravaged.
The red beating land covered in constant storms
The ground ravaged and torn apart
The inner thumps struggling to continue
Trying to survive the constant category F5
The sun rarely shines upon this red land
Dark black clouds in the air
Ground flooded with tears from the sky
Roots revealed and torn on the surface
Yet somehow the land continues
There's no scientific reason why
To thump and beat steadily
So the land can stay alive
We hear of a war in Ukraine
On the news just again and again
There bombs are a'flying
There's much fear and kids crying
On the streets in a ravaged Ukraine
There is grime and much pain in Ukraine
They seek hospital beds there in vain
Not much help for the weak
The only waters in creeks
And the death count is bleak in Ukraine
Sanitation is bad in Ukraine
With no gloves or masks it is plain
Covid must be so rife.!
Do people fear for each life?
Because of all of the germs in Ukraine?
Perhaps millions have died in Ukraine?
As international relations are strained
Why no great; covid strife?
We hear of bio labs on ice..
And yet covid's not..big..in ukraine?
I was drifting north, looking out for work,
found myself in Iowa, in Des Moines,
a polka band was holding a concert,
they needed roadies, so I thought I’d join.
The work was easy, just moving heavy things,
and helping local seniors to the show,
plentiful beer, a big floor to dance,
guess that’s how these things usually go.
But some brought college-age grandkids along,
they had a good time and messaged their friends,
more folk arrived, and then some hipsters
thought polka would be an ‘ironic’ trend.
They showed on up, the crowd overflowed,
it was then things would get really weird,
’cause unknown to us, some damn hipster fool
poured liquid ecstasy into the beer!
And all of them were drinking heavily,
seven thousand or more soon were high,
old and young, it didn’t matter much,
soon their clothing all began to fly!
The band stopped dead at the sight of it,
they’re never looked upon such a scene,
countless old bodies writhing about…
that’s not something you can ever unsee.
The band-leader begged for them to stop,
I swear that he pleaded just like the best,
but no power we had could stop the mass
of wrinkled hides and sagging…umh—skin.
The hipsters and young folk got mixed on in,
too altered to know who they lay with,
pale, pierced, and skinny, doing sorts of things
even loving gods would find hard to forgive.
Somebody must’ve called the police,
because when they threw open the hall door,
and in a stunned voiced asked people to stop,
the walls of bodies sent up a mad roar.
Seven thousand people reeking of sex
spilled out into the streets in a herd,
the cops wouldn’t shoot senior citizens,
though I heard a few winged them a hipster.
The mayor declared all should stay in their homes
as the mob flittered and frolicked about,
it was more a parade then a riot,
and strangely some even joined the crowd.
After two hours they had made their way
through the suburbs out to a cornfield,
the effects of the drug now wearing off,
the funny memories now seemed real...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
There's not time enough to say good bye.
When you hear the news your going to die.
That big C bastard has come to prey.
And ravage your body and take you away.
Soon you'll be gone and we'll be alone.
And when someone calls, we'll answer the phone.
We'll kindly say, she's no longer here.
As we sadly shed a sorrowful tear.
The dawn, it is rising to greet a new day.
And you'll always be here to help find my way.
There's not enough measure to show you my love.
But I am so grateful your with God above.
For angels like you who lived on this earth.
Are shining examples of what heavens worth.
Seven little beacons are glowing tonight.
As one shooting star disappears out of sight.
The train of thought is powerful albeit quite unclear
In it's untrue faithfulness the conductor often will not steer
That becomes the issue off the rails life jumps tracks
Head twisted in all the metal of those false but shiny facts
Focus turns into a continual adjustment of it's own lens
A never-ending cry of help to God the unholy evil of amens
Ravaged mind so desperate in everything to contemplate
Run away is now the train as a passenger you stand to wait
The terror in their fear stained eyes
The gleam of blood in every sight
The remnants of the ghosts of joy
That ceased to exist when the clock struck nine
Everything blown up, in proportion
The whole world flashes past eyes
And leaves behind in its wake
A trail of dust fine but sure
The very hope that lines the heart
In the blink of an eye turns to dust.
...Now Des Moines is a fine heartland town,
not a Sodom on the Pacific,
as minds returned, realization came
and the people found it quite horrific.
They didn’t know who had drugged the beer,
bo one had seen that woman of man,
but something like this needed a fall guy,
so they blamed the whole mess on the band!
And just as the city was venturing out
the angry, naked mob charged back on in!
People scattered, all looking for cover,
we looked on the whole scene with chagrin.
When they approached the ravaged dance hall
we knew that we didn’t have much time,
ran out to the vans so very quickly
that we left all the instruments behind!
The angry nudists burned down the dance hall,
but luckily we were miles away,
and from what I have heard this whole event
is steadfastly denied to this day.
Even videos on the internet
are just passed off a nothing but fakes,
mass denial seems their best option
for dealing with this colossal mistake.
I left that band, set off to find more work,
since I can’t go back to Des Moines again,
which is how I came upon a midget
who played matador to fighting chickens…
ragged was the old man-
(rain fell in a downpour )
rosary beads in hand
raspy quiet his voice
respectful ... asked for cash
~ rummaging I found change ~
(raw the reality)
__________________
April 15, 2021
Poetry/Pleiades Verse/ravaged
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1347-169-15
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Pleiades R
sponsor, Kim Merryman, Judged 04/19/2021
Third Place
In my life there has been disappointment,
oh, so often I have felt discouraged;
the failures and let downs, I keep silent,
full of sadness- my spirit ravaged.
My enchantment with the pen in ruin,
I have hung my head weeping in defeat;
the Muse in me dead, hidden and frozen,
I have felt a poet quite obsolete.
But, in my heart is a hidden treasure,
and in my head words keep swirling- twirling;
oh, in my mind there is a loud chatter,
I lift my pen and words come falling.
I use disappointment to write poems,
take real life and make poetic gems.
_____________________
October 5, 2017
Sonnet/Ravaged Spirit
Copyright Protected, ID 947318
Written for the contest, Taking Disappointment
in your life turning it into something positive
sponsor, Brenda Chiri
Second Place
I rip my rib cage apart to reveal my heart
and all I get is stunned silence!
Stunned to see the mangled wreckage
of pulsating, blood-red organ, flesh
etched with battle scars ... the
partially healed wounds from life's
obligatory pain and tomboy escapades,
nothing what I bargained for!
It is true, my face, my facade denotes
a blooming wildflower of middle earth,
yet a vulnerable flower, beaten by the rain,
parched by the burning sun and a relentless
provocation from winged life. Even so I take
life's knocks and flow like a raging river yet
the light still shines in my mind’s inner eye.
I know, I know, when I ripped my rib cage apart
to reveal my heart, you expected purity.
But what you got was a ravaged,
mangled heart full of love.
I was deeply annoyed.
One by one they were falling,
walking in quagmire.
For duplicating rights ?
Dead pelicans, pouch empty.
Somebody was picking ants from the air.
Give me some cold pack,
my head is throbbing hot,
I am burning.
Nine year old innocent
raped by a septuagenarian.
A twin pregnancy. I will go insane.
They were still talking about
the golden beach, and perfected will.
Too late to count the gods.
The pale body was untying the mask.
The suffering borrows from the death
and embryo becomes a temple.
SATISH VERMA