Best Savaging Poems


Premium Member Interlude

"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.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: savaging, angst, death, emotions,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member She Runs With the Lions

In an other dimension
There lies another world
Deep forests of green
Moss, fern creepers unfurled
 
Thousands of birds
Species similar to ours
Atmosphere the same
Moon and bright stars
 
The difference here
Is the attitude of life
No savaging hunters
In bloodied strife
 
Birds and snakes
Side by side
A girl runs through the trees
With the Lions pride
 
Kids bathing 
In Crocodile waters
Splashing and yelling
No wanton slaughter
 
A world without food
No rotting decay
Animals and plants
Live day to day
 
Somewhere in time
Living structures changed
Purely oxygen feeders
No humans deranged
 
Life has a life
As they will pass away
But not one will fall
To a victim of prey


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy3.php
Categories: savaging, fantasy
Form: Rhyme

The Future Starts Here

The innocence is transfusing
and overturning 
the goat skin drums
children of the mills,
children of the junkyard,
alone, 
and savaging
and we keep filling them with
mercury, nitrate, espestice, baby bombs
blasted out of their shaved heads
scared,
and foraging
Categories: savaging, addiction, adventure, allusion, anger,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member The Bloom Off the Flower,The Dying of the Rose

The Bloom Off The Flower, Dying Of The Rose

Old,blind and very ill, they wait to die
Growing cold with chill they sadly lie.
Ravages of Time eats away heart and might
Until sunny day becomes a darkened night.

In this world Time brings on that spirit
Savaging body, so silent we never hear it.
Broken down,resting in an old folk's home
Sad dying souls never again to ever roam. 

As Death arrives there is no ringing bell
only the one way trip, to Heaven or Hell.
Or the trip into a dark and long dirt nap
buried deep into the grave's earthen trap.

What was once singing, love and solid gold
now is sin's judgment on these dying old.
Bloom off the flower, dying of the rose
all facing it cry mournfully as it goes!

Robert J. Lindley, 06-18-2015

Note: A dark one but much truth rests deep within.
Copyright © 2015 Robert Lindley
Categories: savaging, absence, abuse, age, angst,
Form: Rhyme

Salveja

I
I live in a society,
That does not know me.
I live in a community,
That does not owe me.
I feel a stranger,
In my renowned hometown.
And act a savage,
In my parent's town.
Who knows me???
Than my very self?
Who feeds me??
Than my blood nest?
When they lift core up,
I ignorantly pull it down.
When they smile to fill the cup.
I expose their veiled frown.
They tell me: 'Go to hell',
Yea,they told me with their action spell.
I'm a snail without a backbone,
I'm a roaring lion without teeths.
They grant me out like a loan,
And care not how by them i'm treat.
**************************
II
*************************
Oh what a savage in his homeland?
Oh a gabbage in the bowland.
Who cares about my personality?,
Than those who adore my intuity.
They are my pride,
Yea,indeed my father,mother and brothers.
**************************
III
*************************
But this my vow,
That them all will to me bow:
They that regard me not,
But that crack me as a nut.
I'm going out of my land,
To places where i'll be given a stand.
Let me a hence there to be a Lord,
Enough of my savaging here: i'm bored.
************************
IV
*************************
Let others that empathize,
Fall into with me same tresspass.
Let us in unity,
Tell the fruit of disunity.
To hence to the dungeon of foolishness,
And bid us to bail them after their
relentlessness.
Oh mother!,behold your child.
Child!,behold your mother.
The heir is from you taken farther,
And will come not again till you all are mild.
C.2017
Categories: savaging, allegory,
Form: Imagism

Tropical Island

The singing of the ravens catch my eye in the dead of night,
the whispering of pines reveal the lingering of my loneliness.
No other human can be seen, with two sticks a fire I ignite,
I scratch my hands, as dusk settle in this tropical wilderness.
I’ve been abandoned and only nature can save me now,
only water and plants with herbs to keep me alive.
I must learn to survive with no supplies someway, somehow,
and in order to save myself I must work hard and strive.
The rustling of fear runs through my cold veins,
the nearness of savages that could take me for food
brings a distant memory back that could only remain,
so I sit and try to think of things but all I can do is brood.
I stumble upon a lost wolf, for he shall be my companion, 
together we will search for food and water in the dark.
All of a sudden in the distance I see the shelter of a canyon, 
and my wolf howls sounding like my old dogs’ bark.
We arrive and see a reverie of water running up to our feet,
I have been thirsting for a quench since the day I arrived.
For if it wasn’t for the plane crash I wouldn’t have to defeat,
this hardship and struggle just to try to feverishly survive. 
As I sit in comfort I see a coconut on the emerald grass,
I run and tear it open as quickly as I possibly could.
I see pineapples and many trees of lingering sassafras,
oh, surviving on a tropical island, I never thought I could.
Beneath the rocky mount, I see a dead long lost deer.
She seemed so cold but my hunger couldn’t resist,
even though my veins were surrounded by fear,
my hunger didn’t care and we had ourselves a feast.
I cook the meat by the fire and I sit in complete nourishment,
my wolf eats the scraps raw and I swear I see him smile.
Now I must travel on with positivity and encouragement,
for giving up and waiting to die is just not my style.
Now I am one with nature and have a friend to call my own, 
but I feel a sense of longing for my family and friends.
This wilderness and savaging makes me miss my home,
and so I keep walking on and that is how my journey ends. 



Tropical Island
February 5, 2017
Categories: savaging, imagination, journey, lost,
Form: Rhyme


Illmatic

Illmatic

Date: Wed, Dec 2 2015 at 3:53 PM

I'm illmatic, Stillmatic,
 Rapid, Automatic
 Lyrical Systematic, Schematic, Graphic, Imagery, Casted
I'm a Artist at War, Creating On my Magic Carpet, Orbs
Coloring Markers, Carving in the Core, 
Watching the Picture Form,
Sharpened Dagger Sword I use to Artichect a Door 
To an World not Explored
This Supreme Mathematics
Cause I'm Subtracting these Fractions into Fragments 
out of my life to Abstinence
Don't need any Distractions
In my Vision of Happiness
I'm Savaging my creative Passion
Out lashing my Magic
From the Flares of my Magic Stick
Magic Tricks
Art that's Fantastic
Cause I'm Fabulous
Become a Master with Practice
Now the Masters Magic is Lavish
An I Even Scare my Challenges
With Gifts & Talents
That I try to Balance
I'm Great I think I was born  Outstanding
An leave Masses to Panic
An a Napkin
Under my Shirt cause Paint Splashes
An a Seal over my Head from Damage
From the Magic Reaction
I open my Pamphlet
Inside is Brilliant Chapters
Of Stories that I Crafted
I Impacted 
In this journey of Iife I Captured
To Open my Secrets is a Password
Then you'll see A Latter
With a Bright Light Up to follow After
You'll be in the Spirit to Feel the Habitat
Cause it's a Realm where only  Spirits Inhabit
Where All Spirits Passes 
Welcome to the Life Of Aladdin
Categories: savaging, character, crazy, imagery, mirror,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Funeral

The Funeral

Juxtaposed we find
metaphorical possibilities
on the 'oft heard word
"Great.."
in  recent discourse..

The funereal gathering
marked with precision
and heartening oratory
celebrated a life representing
a centered consensus..
claiming a greatness
past and present..
but with darkness lapping
in places too close..

The golf outing
with creditable swing
stands circumferential 
representing "deplorables" who
find the center not their own..
yet..a clubbing of truth
and a rough savaging
of human interchange
seem as arousal..

Arousal for rejection of
both sides of this
juxtaposition:
Are we witnessing the 
birthing of what is "Great"
all anew...?
Categories: savaging, celebration, conflict, courage, golf,
Form: Blank verse

A Bee's Love Sting

Mystical Queen Bee,
Navigates Her Territory....
...Savaging To Protect
Her Innocence Inside The
Sweet Nector Of A 
Bloomed Flower.
Where She'll Explore Natures
Beast Among A Love:
Extravaganza!!!
As She's Bound To Love You;
Or Sting You.... So Watch
Your Back, No I gotcha ya back
Lover... NO WORRIES!!!! It won't hurt...
Categories: savaging, angst, life, love, nature,
Form: Free verse

Xmas' Redoter (Redux)

Note: "How can there have been such strife in a Morlde` filled with beautiful Music; &
how could there have been beautiful Music such in a Morlde` filled with strife?"  -Soupy 
Sales, 2012.

The 12 Panes Of Christmas:
_____________________________________________________________________________
___

                                                 - XMAS' RADOTER -

Yule be Xmas
afore ye know
the pag'an go
for patterned 
stamped snowflakes
'bove the
Andy Williams' Shows
DVD Stufftaculate CD, 
Away, In A Manger For The Happy Employees,
drivelings (no place like) home
for the Hollydayease
in
a Ford Barricade & SUG Thirsty,
Nay, the new GM Bailout.

Suffer
the little Children
new bornes, infants
what nary see
but a Semi-Claus 
ere
semiclaws,
tithes for the celibre-cause craws.

Remembrances
to things past-past, of
natal assemblies
en callow chorale masse 
gone  
Proustikipped,
to mortitorium's
N'well

& stockings filled
with 
the chimney's cold care
yet in hopes
das Geheimnis Viktoria
would 
somehow brassiere...
rout despair
the Tree hovers
Cabbage Patch? Nay!,
but the oft'splayed
Perry Como - You Win!,
Get to poke Golgotha pins -
WakeUp, boorros!
Bing-Bing!
WakeUp!, Jokers
to the St. Jack Nihilis...
but ya wanna
bat 'n ball this 'round?
You a'ready donned Santa,
with a semi-

Dear G*d,
(Walsch also asked)
How're You doin' It, &
Your Son?...Tarnished
proof weighdown here, filled
with
vanilla, frozen grins &
Joyburdened smiles...
'neath
pattern-stamped snowflakes &
piney Glade heads
afore the marshed desert
Koyaanisqatsi

Like yearlings'
trotted-out
Saviormusic 
whilst the other 333 
like
666 -
doubled for toil 'n trouble -
employed
to savaging
One, many, or 'nother...

Christmas partidges'
riffeled feathers family?
pared, unprepaired,
Indeed, vouchsafed
an enemy sans name
on 
a horse with no name, save
Internecine

AmeriKa.

For
A kiss 'neath
the mistlesilo
whilst acaroling 
of the Bedlamites
(Acts, II: 2-6),
the Psalming 100?,
Screeching 
like sleds in pit gravel to
the Silent Night

HeyMen!

There lies
an evergrander Light
at the Dawn, but
Hey!,
who's gonna 
tear-away
from
Yawnni,
& the extra-Vaganza
of
Truth?

                    H.e.m.
                    12.13.MMviii.
                    (ST)
© H Mantel  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: savaging, holidaybeautiful, beautiful,
Form: Free verse

Hell Makers

Trying to rip that off                                                      
Making it a boozy scoff                                                    
Savaging the crepe won't sell                                               
We're the Hell makers

Nagging people blab blab blab                                               
Going crazy like the Bohems far                                             
Follow us to the cavern                                                     
We're the Hell makers

I'm about to bring it on                                                                   
We're not just trivial spawn                                                            
It's real that we live here                                                            
We're the Hell makers

Faking out the faded pain                                                   
Oh my god it's you again                                                    
Don't mock us like crazy                                                   
We're the Hell makers

Tapping out the shaded game                                                 
Pulling it to the makers fame                                          
Alpha! Beta! Gamma!                                                         
We're the Hell makers

Time to go and wrap it up                                                   
Makers anthem you won't dub                                                 
Fall back and remember                                                      
We're the Hell makers
Categories: savaging, courage, people, crazy,
Form: Lyric

Angel of the Odd

Angel of the odd
Made my face savaging in 
mud 
Water of happiness 
gushed from broken 
gourd
Love is giveth,hate then 
defy God 

With Angel Of The Odd
I sit on a cursed love
Emotional spanks finding 
no end
Prospecting a white 
where all is black

Selfishness she claimed of 
me
With a reason of 
unbattered love... 
shouldn't I be?
She pays wit bruises 
deeper than that of flesh
Punches that ache  thy 
heart

Class in synergy wit 
beauty
One wit features of multi
A reason to blind for d 
oddness
And appreciate d being 
of dis goddess

Angel Of The Odd
Bless me with love
A revenge with 
love,honesty and care
already in place

Man is his word
Mouth wears no glove
More dan 365days i set d 
pace

Oh! kneels re weary 
Eyes are swampy
Legs re shaking
Head is aching
Body is withered
Throat is arid 
Only kisses can make it 
watered
But thy HEART still beats 
for u

Angel Of The Odd
Even with d death of thy 
body
My love remains for u and 
nobody
Categories: savaging, emotions
Form: Free verse

Cats

Cats

Patiently, cats eyed, alert and poised for action;
More than ready to eat, not greet, or fuss affectionately,
'She’busies herself with the important work
of savaging your rucksack straps;
‘He’, inspecting cupboards and wincing at draughts,
looks on, anticipating some small attention –
Yet once given, a disdainful shrug soon sees that off..

Playfully dangerous, exuding feline charm and allure
Each personality formed by the pursuits of Maslow.
Feed me, water me, toilet me, feed me, pay attention. Love?
All day they sleep like furry mobile book-ends.
By evening, demonic playtime will often ensue;
Manic theatrical leaps and pseudo-violent endeavour
to be replaced in an instant at the sound of an impending snack.

Purrfectly adorable, yet lethally ‘talonted’
Small facsimiles of eviscerative power
our stripy smiling assassins lie innocuous and still;
Their telepathic alertness, switching from deepest sleep 
to instantaneous and righteous indignation at a sound:
Snap To!! Reminding us that, whilst we care,
our feline guests are but one mouthful from feral animosity..

They purr, not to say “Hello” or “Thank you for your kindness!”
but because they can. These sybaritic existentialists -
refugees of other worldliness, extensions of the moon,
replete with chirrups, meows, and other audio trickery.
Besides, if we knew we truly gave them pleasure
Then all power would evaporate and our love affair
With warm things bright and beautiful, would end!
Categories: savaging, appreciation, beauty, best friend,
Form:

Premium Member Cyclonic Storm

Dawn arrived beleaguered
and redrew the peaks 
across a bruised sky that churned
a displeased blue and pewter.

Soon lightening, a brilliant white
with titanium opacity,
crackled with scraunches
and screeches across the horizon.

Rain labored brutishly
against the grueling winds
savaging the already sodden,
soppy, soupy earth.

Multi-dimensional, phantasmagoric,
noctidial nightmare till, conterminally,
the broken sky refashioned itself 
in vivid electric pink and tangerine.
Categories: savaging, earth, environment, nature, rain,
Form: Free verse

A Woman Nothing More

A Woman Nothing More


The strongest feelings in life 
erupted when she appeared,
showing me all I wanted 
and hinting at what’s to be feared.

Her mysterious charm and power 
changed my goals for good,
target of all my attention; 
I would have her if I could.

My youth came into focus 
its energy directed at her,
fantasy unattainable then, 
but reality as it were.

Enslaved by longings and urges
 impossible to requite,
dreams of her beauty and softness
 lengthened the lonely nights.

First taste of love was heady 
and addictive forevermore,
chase and conquest accomplished 
opening the forbidden door.

This leaven and seasoning of life 
enriched the years of love,
the closeness of a woman
 is given by God above.

But ecstasy’s old counterpoint 
is a crushed and broken heart,
savaging the soul of lovers 
when we are forced to part.

Life’s troubles pale in comparison 
to romances’ grievous end,
seemingly endless agony 
no matter how long we spend.

The heart will harden eventually
 after love’s revolving door,
learning through pain and experience;
she is a woman, nothing more.
© Bob Quinn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: savaging, passion, life,
Form: Quatrain
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