Long Raspy Poems
Long Raspy Poems. Below are the most popular long Raspy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Raspy poems by poem length and keyword.
NOT MANY KNOW OF BOXCAR JACK
WHO LIVES ON A TRAIN GOING WAY BACK
HEARING THE SOUND OF THE CLITITY CLACK
THAT COMES FROM BEAT OF A NORTHBOUND TRACK
WELL BOXCAR WAS A MUSIC MAN
PLAYING HIS GUITAR WHEN HE CAN
STRUMMING OUT A HEARTFELT TUNE
NEVER STOPPING NONE TO SOON
BOXCAR WAS ALSO A LADIES MAN
HAD THEM SPREAD ALL OVER THE LAND
THEY LOVED TO HEAR HIM SING HIS TUNE
THE RASPY VOICE WOULD MAKE THEM SWOON
THEY’D DRESS HIM UP AND FEED HIM WELL
A HOMELESS MAN YOU’D NEVER TELL
A DAY OR TWO HE’D SING HIS SONG
WHEN RESTLESS CAME HE’D THEN BE GONE
HEADED DOWN THAT SOUTHBOUND TRACK
HEARING THE BEAT OF THE CLITITY CLACK
DREAMING UP ANOTHER SONG
OF LOVE GONE RIGHT AND THEN GONE WRONG
I MET BOXCAR WAY DOWN IN MACON
LOOKING SAD AND ALL FORSAKEN
I ASKED HIM WHAT THE PROBLEM WAS
WHY THE TEARS, WHAT WAS THE CAUSE?
BOXCAR TOLD ME IT WAS LOVE
A GODDESS BORN FROM UP ABOVE
A GIRL SO SWEET AND SLIGHTLY SILLY
WHOSE MOTHER CALLED HER LITTLE MILLIE
BUT MOMMA TOLD HER HE WAS WRONG.
HE DIDN’T SING THE PROPER SONG
NO JOB HAD HE OR DOLLAR BILLS
TO KEEP HER WARM FROM WINTER CHILLS
SO BOXCAR’S ON A WESTBOUND TRACK
TO HEAR THE BEAT OF THE CLITITY CLACK
A BEER OR TWO HE WASHES DOWN
AND THEN THERE CAME THAT SIMPLE FROWN
AND AFTER SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES
THE FROWN TURNED INTO HAPPY SMILES
AND SONGS HE WROTE IN PASSING TIME
OF LOVE THAT HAD NO ENDING RHYME
HE ENDED UP IN KANSAS CITY
LIVING WITH A GIRL SO PRETTY
DANCING IN A SATIN GOWN
SHE LOVED IT WHEN HE CAME TO TOWN
HE NAMED HER IN A SPECIAL TUNE
HE WROTE FOR HER THAT NIGHT IN JUNE
HE TOLD HER THAT HE’D SOON BE BACK
AND THEN HE LEFT FOR THE ENDLESS TRACK
AND NOW YOU KNOW OF BOXCAR JACK
WHO LOVED THE SOUND OF THE CLITITY CLACK
WHO LOVED THE GIRLS AND LIKED TO CROON
ON A TRAIN SOMEWHERE BELOW THE MOON
Softly murmuring, the river’s raspy voice
Settles my soul with its rumbling choice,
Rustling quietly beneath a glowing moon,
Splattered by the sound of the river’s rejoice
Light trickles from stars who’re strewn
Across flirty skies where dreamers swoon,
Leaving the heart full, moaning its needs,
While witnesses tell tales much like cartoons
Roaring rapids reveal what the mind reads,
In stories of crashing winds with its dark deeds,
While the river gulps and hiccups on its course,
Promising to bring us its astounding proceeds.
Waters boom and belch, such a mighty force,
Revealing God’s strength, the only true source,
Mighty waters rip out a path like a racehorse,
One that most gamblers would surely indorse.
Where the cold nights, the shadows blend,
Glenn Hughes rises, a voice that transcends.
With a soul forged in fire, he sings of the pain,
Each lyric a journey, each note a refrain.
From the ashes of rock, a phoenix takes flight,
His heart laid wide open, a shining light.
With Deep Purple's thunder, he carved out his name,
But it’s in the ballads where he found his true flame.
A warrior of sound, with many stories to tell,
Of love and redemption, of heaven and hell.
His raspy, a comfort for all,
In the chaos of life, he answers the call.
Through the highs and the lows, the struggles he faced,
He channels the darkness, the light interlaced.
In each heartfelt chorus, we find our release,
With Glenn Hughes' music, it brings everyone peace. (Peace within ourselves)
Autumn arrives
Like calloused hands
From Canada,
Squeezing
The summer sogginess
From the air
Like a wet rag
Wrung
From a pail of warm water.
Downhill
From
Its hollow avalanche of wind,
We bang
With brooms
At the shins of the fleeing trees
Like shepherds.
The first scarlet leaves
Are stripped
And flow like rivers
Of snapping piranhas
Vibrating atop the sidewalks.
I put my dog on a leash.
He is not trustworthy
In crowds,
Especially in riots
Of ghosts
That flail
In spiral gales
Like newspaper pages
Sailing back to life
From gutters.
In my garage,
I take my rake
From its hook on the wall.
I stand as a scarecrow in his front yard,
Straw shoulders
Shaking from the introduction.
One by one,
Crows
Gather
And eat from the ground.
A raspy cawing.
I am coughing.
The wire mesh gauntlet made an unusual whistling sound,
Before making contact with the old man’s face.
The power invested in the swing was evident by the distance,
He flew, which possessed a certain element of grace.
Blood splattered all over the jester, who mimicked the action,
Of the king’s beaten subject.
The clown laughed and rolled on the floor portraying the
Events with foolish special effects
The king rose to his feet and tightened his grip on the gauntlet;
It made a crunching raspy sound
Red faced he ordered “Take him away, beat him, then cut off his head.”
The guards lifted the old man, like a limp rag doll from the ground,
The king shouted “Not him the Clown you fools.”
They picked up the jester and dropped the old man with a thud of a sound
He called his trusty knights and made a decree, “Like this iron hand,”
“Scourge the curse from our land,”
“Kill every witch may it be woman, child or man”
Show no mercy until the curse is lifted to its end and from whence it began”
A year past and the curse was rife,
It exercised its power claiming a multitude of life.
The knights returned at the king’s request
“ Me Lard our efforts were extinguished, we tried our best”
“Your subjects await outside the walls,”
A great rebellion which cry, “Today the king shall fall.”
“The weak the strong, great and small,”
“Your merciless scourge in the land, for this it is your blood that they call.”
The king called for the old man a prophet,
And asked the origin of this curse.
“It has grown powerful throughout my land,”
“Now speak up old man least you die by my hand.”
The old man smiled a toothless grin,
“The curse is not out there.”
“It is here with in,”
“The curse is you my king, by your blood I swear.”
The crowd smashed the fortified doors,
and stood before the king,
“His blood is required,”
Their voices in unison did sing.
The Knights, heavily armoured stood before the crowd,
As one of them read the kings decree out loud.
An as he did so, the others circled the king,
And executed the decree, and its final sting.
They beat the king till every bone was broke,
Then cut off his head, the crowd cheered as they heard his head gasp and choke...
the raspy whisper
finally
gets my full attention -
wistfully I smile
..for its persistence reminds me of you..
the crisp red leaf
scuttles scrapingly
across the gray pavement
to and fro
like a dancing crab
moving with the whims of the winds
chasing me
as it seemed like I had once chased my dreams;
blown in directions left up to chance
..until I met you..
..is it now, as it was then
Destiny?
for in this instant, my sense of direction
seems predestined..
a smoky scent
spices the chilled blue air
reminding me of our cozy nights
curled with the fire
..entranced
as we were
with our warmth
and our flame..
could it be
love signals from the hearth
calling me home..?
..my soul
feels akin to the red leaf,
the wafting smoke
and I am ready to follow..
Would the cold atmosphere be so cruel
as to play capricious tricks upon my eyes... or
..is that really
YOU
standing there..?
Oh!
my beloved,
how my broken spirit
has suffered
in my pining desire to be with you -
I run to you!
years of yearning prayers answered
fingertips straining - stretching further
reaching out to touch you,
the whole of my being aching
to hold you and enfold you
..ah, I feel your heat
so very close to me..
Alas!
I fall to my knees,
my arms empty
but for the loss I carry..
your warm breath
on the nape of my neck
only my hot want
brewed with a cool wisp of the breeze
..Oh, God! Please!
just let it be
let me go..!
my forsaken flame less than a dying ember;
I but ashes in my grief
withered
in my autumn season
without you
still...
I’m slow to realize...
that your fading glow just the sun slanting low
blurring wicked whimsy with my wild sorrow
in the burning of these bitter tears.
Susan Ashley
December 2, 2018
~ First Place ~
Contest: NA the day away
Sponsor: Lu Loo
*N/A’d: Best Free Verse 2019 Poetry Contest*
~ Honorable Mention ~
Contest: Your Choice (2) Any Theme, Form
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Poem Of The Day ~
December 4, 2018
daddy died alone in his home
ashtrays with cigarette butts completely hoarded his deathbed
the smell of smoke almost immediately made my eyes turn red
i regret the 15 years since i last saw him
however i choose not to trip
daddy died alone in his home
i have a quiet conversation with him in the wee hours of the morning
i find myself knocking on the door of the visual voicemail on my phone
his deep, raspy bellow is simply asking me how i am doing and how he would like to see me sometime in the near future
i wish that the elements of those many years of cigarettes would have never bumped into the dreadful doom of atherosclerotic cardiovascular disease
please go visit those responsible for the roots of your life
please do not let time, stubbornness, pride, or fear control any part of your personal turns in direction
one day in the center of your plans to finally go see said loved one,
a curveball may come out of nowhere with a wind that strangely kicks
the carpet can sometimes taste like rusty coppered regret when the mouth and the tounge hits it as a result of complete disbelief
all that you will have are many wishes and several interrogative wonder whys
the next thing you know, you are living in time machine blueprint permanence
The children gathered around
the crackling fireplace as
Rumple Stein opened his
heavy, leather- bound book.
His voice dropped to a low,
raspy whisper that made the
shadows on the wall seem to
stretch and dance.
"Deep within the Whispering
Woods," he began, "the old
witches brew potions made
of forgotten nightmares."
He leaned forward, his eyes
gleaming in the firelight as
the wind howled outside the
window.
"They command slimy green
goblins that creep into
bedrooms to steal the
laughter of sleeping boys
and girls."
A floorboard creaked in the
hallway, making the children
jump and clutch their
blankets tight.
"But the worst myth of all,"
Rumple Stein hissed, "is the
faceless monster that hides
right under your bed."
He pointed a long, crooked
finger at the youngest boy,
whose eyes were wide with
fright.
"It waits until the room goes
completely black, listening to
the sound of your heartbeat."
With a sudden, loud SLAM of
his book, he smiled and
whispered, "Now, blow out
the candle and go to sleep."
In a window down on Main St.
Sits an old pawn shop guitar
Its strings are like a slinky
And its finish has been marred
But when a dreamer has a vision
They keep shooting for the stars
It's not about the glamour
It's more about the heart
If that old pawn shop guitar could talk
Oh the stories it could tell
Its raspy voice from the smoke
Would prove it knows the bar scene well
It's rough around the edges
Yet it strums every chord in tune
It could reflect upon the saddest song
It helped write in some bedroom
I walked in through the front door
And it's like the man could tell
He approached me with a smiling face
Said here's the story that I tell
I've seen you for the past few weeks
Sneaking by to take a look
That guitar right there could write a page
It could even write a book
Our late nights were never ending
She knew Johnny, Hank and Merle
Even sat in with the possum
On his tour around the world
She's played all kinds of music
From rock and roll to hillbilly
She even tried her hand in a bluegrass band
But heartache's still her specialty
If this old pawn shop guitar could talk
Oh the stories she could tell
Her raspy voice from the smoke
Would prove she knows the bar scene well
She's rough around the edges
Yet she strums every chord in tune
She can reflect upon the saddest song
She helped write in our bedroom
I know all this cause she was mine
From way back in the day
But I hung her up the day I got
The note that she went away
She helped me through my darkest hour
I'd rather see that she lives on
Than look out on these lonely streets
And think she missed her first hit song
Son promise me that you'll go far
With this old pawn shop guitar
of an dying autumn day.
The gentle breeze tosses
scarlet leaves before him.
…into the ember fire sky
His thoughts drift,
a familiar voice is heard talking near.
…speaking of wonder and awe.
A fragment of memory…
of kingdoms
of empires far out to sea
and things unseen.
Of fables, mythic legends,
glorious Knights
in silver, sable armor, shivery.
A raspy voice carries
on the chilly evening air
bringing echoes of memory,
a father once standing there.
Who dreamed of these and more…
Watching smoke drift lazy over silhouette rooftops
standing there where he stood yesterday.
Now, a rough hand holds
tinder fingers gently
of a little boy, with eyes full of curiosity.
He looks ups to him, with familiar eyes
with his tossed amber hair.
In the chilly crisp autumn air
hanging on every word
every mystery
every kingdom
& empire far far out to sea!
Eyes reflecting spun fables,
myths of ancient starships,
Forgotten shivery
Eyes bright
Bright blue with wonder, even surprise!
The chill carries his questions innocently
as the ember Fire sky dies
to indigo and aquamarine…
Home is silhouetted
with its chimney smoke drifting lazily
over frosted lands
He turns to go, tomorrow comes
and stories to be told
The scarlet leaves dance
before his lengthening
shadow with his future son in toe.