Long Raven Poems
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Far as my eyes can see, 'till lake touches sky,
Earth beats as one; Poplar, Jack Pine & Birch all
Sing with the White Throated Sparrow, our Planet's
Love songs.
Sloping (5'canopy) an ancient Deer trail along the
Baptism River (flowing into Lake Superior) I startle a
Buck during his midday Nap. Soundlessly lifting up,
He elegantly bounces away.
From above, a dark object swoops in, Brother
Raven is curious, (always a sentinel for Hawks
And Bald Eagles). I stand motionless, willing my
Neo-Cortex to flood my aura with peace; as I
Extend my arm and gently imitate the Raven's
Welcome call, a double-beat "Caw caw"...I am
Here Raven, I am me". My heart quickens as
He alights on my arm, talons gripping my
Forearm gently, but firmly. Cocking my head,
I look deeply into his obsidian eyes to his
Soul...he imitates me, tilting his head in unison,
letting my gaze enter. Images from high race
Thru my mind...the rushing river...undulating
Tree tops...in an instant, we have become
Brothers of the wild, as I softly shake my arm
To set him free.
"I am me, Brother Raven, I am me"
05/30/15
© All Rights Reserved
Frosted windows moon white
In deepest dark, the chill bites
Something takes flight
Shadows linger in the eaves of a house
Haunted by memories n night
Ravens call to the darkest light.
Watching the world burn, its eyes gone white
Something stirs the slumber of chaos in childhood refrain
Turning the keys in the rusted locks
Lost Words and Dark Secret books
Before dawn, blind are the cocks
The rooms are vacant and hollow
Hallow be thy rooks
Still, someone follows, in the darkness of light
A raven sits watching you dream
The dreams of a dreamer dreamt
Under the window covered in frosted moonlight
White n deep along seams of creation bleed
Burning the frames of doors to somewhere
Insane and lost is the dreamers' dream of nightmares
In-flight on memories haunted by hollow rooms
And hallowed halls of a rambling brook
Feeling the coming doom
Silhouetted towers high in a moonlit sky
Frozen are the figures underneath the moon. White.
In the depth of the deepest shadow
In eaves of a house, shallow
Dreams linger like wraiths
Haunted vacant, in pools the night
One clings to tatted n ruined faith
Cast on doors to nowhere, unfound
Frosted under the pale moonlight
Eyes blind unbound
Something stirs the slumber.
Chaos in childhood remains.
Turning the keys, cry rusted locks.
The rooms are vacant, hollow.
Black the murder of crows, flock
Still, someone follows
In the darkness of light, along hidden seams
Ravens, sit and watch you dream!
The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour
When A Dream Within A Dream came true
And seeing the Evening Star between the bower
As the man with The Raven hair sat next to me on the pew
All the Stanzas of the Hymn were done
Romance in my fluttering heart An Enigma
The Bells ringing in my ears as one-by-one
The Sleeper emotion of devotion aroused by charisma
Nor Dream-Land as though it really seemed
But Dreams of Romance finally chanced
Nor The Valley Of Unrest but light from his eyes beamed
The light from his eyes,The Raven hair, the dream enhanced
The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour
When a real live suitor, A Valentine
Came to take me away by his willpower
Those wedding vows said to him I'm thine
Written: February 19, 2017
Poet Chosen: Edgar Allen Poe
“Special are the ones that see beyond veiled verses,
behind violet smiles, so much is spoken in silence, where cosmic chaos
are scattered amidst the twinkling constellation cracked into seething seas of raw madness”
I remember how I bathed
in the brilliant hue
of your silent shadows,
swirling in symphony
unscathed, across
silvery nights, as I decided
to slowly place
my trust again upon
kismet shooting stars~
perfumed with sins,
ferrying the sacred key
to my moonstruck
heart from afar.
But the gleaming rays
of celestial glows,
burnt into steel and dust,
guiding where your drizzling~
sharpened knife flows,
across my bleeding canvas
like a poetic downfall,
streaming crystal
tears upon us
to carve the edges
of unread chapters
with solemn epitaphs.
If only they could
feel the veiled truth behind
my eyes that speak
volumes, misunderstood
in vague dialects, echoing
through murky skies,
losing faith in humanity
within a hidden retreat~
as this world has taught
us raven phases
of lunar secrets
from somber tunes
of affection through
torment and deceit.
Yet time knew what
my mind couldn’t see,
flickering faith
seizing seconds few,
my lyrical haven finding me,
where dreams stew,
setting my rhymes free,
for I’ve learnt the art
of forgiving every neon lining,
scattered along seraphic
spheres beyond reach,
colliding cosmically
with implicit chaos,
oblivious to the wicked
tumbleweeds
of desire in wrath.
Wings black as midnight draw back
from infernos façade
Secret devices sharp,
keen of talons and man-made MAW
EYES; Scarlet, pumpkin fire orange at the heart,
sleek silence across an industrial park.
A Golghota of wasted landscapes
of dark homes dirty secrets
die in shadowy shallow pools lit by starlight.
Silky silence of doom gleam
something slithers slides
ruination in its wake
it knows the deepest
Darkest Hidden things
In all of our lives.
As a shadow, it glides across
those who are foolish enough to witness...
It drives burning engines
Of our known deepest pride.
It’s wings are of Raven claw
in Hue and Design
Sharp black onyx with a hint
of Crimson at its core.
Give the devil its do,
Keen as a razor, it cuts our silent eyes
his thoughts
his regrets
His desire.
IT is so very much more,
it watches form time
Waits in the home…
A heart, Onyx and black.
IT rages, willing for war
the anger
the hate
IT rips and it BOARS
in the shadows of man
It Cover the darkest of lands
the silver shade of silence.
The massacre of innocence
Infernal devices turn as onyx wings burn Black
They draw back from an intricate façade
talons razored keen wired for flight.
As Scarlet, pumpkin fire orange at its heart
it knows all and lays waste to sanity
to reap when it desires.
Golghota of wasted city-scapes,
of dark dirty secrets
in all of our hearts
all of our homes
At Sea II
The start of an ocean voyage starts like life; fresh and new
And best served with a brew
The shoreline disappearing from view and star bright
Replacing the street lights fading fast into the night
The seas are calm in that cove as you leave a safe haven
Moving past that beacon with an escort from a raven
The gulls fly overhead their wings spread wide to catch the breeze
And the shrill of their screech fills the air as they escort you out to distant seas
Soon we are alone in an ocean, no shoreline linking safety
There is comfort and a strange sense of calm and serenity
But as time passes and the storms roll in
Rough seas are a sure thing
The waves pound the sides of our boat
Swales high and low remind us we are quite remote
There is no way to swim to shore and a long way to the ocean floor
We say a prayer for all on board and listen to the roar
Our thoughts turn to those back ashore, family, friends, and others galore
And through it all there is hope that we are not a dope for being on a boat
As quickly as gale force winds came they are no longer found
And the smell of ocean air fills our lungs as we look around
Maybe getting there is worth the wait
To make that journey far and wide we shouldn’t hesitate
Instead of cowering inside and avoiding the ride
We should embrace her like a bride
And then it is there for all to see, land I say with such glee
Safe harbor has returned to me
Andreas Simic©
you say you
love the moon
but it’s the stars
you gaze at,
as you stretch
your petal-like fingers
to flaunt magical phrases
across nocturnal nights~
stealing their
fragrant florescence
within forsaken
liquified lights,
to make them an
unseen reality
worth reading,
as your charming words
woven with
wisteria wishes
protect them
from invisible ink,
that has been
burning empty pages
from fiery flames,
oblivious to the
tangerine truth
not every twinkling gem
can grant your wishes
to flicker caramel gold…
perhaps, you should
see the sacred
scriptures in silver
within lunar spheres,
how she carries
perfumed pain,
whilst remaining faithfully
as a fairy goddess;
beacon of hyacinth hope
when you were
in your
island of ignorance,
speaking the
lyrical language
of dimmed dreams in
sentimental silence
so don’t question her
wounded skin reflecting
confined absence~
nor blame the
sizzling sapphires
with her name sewn,
in vibrant violet
within the crystalline
cage beneath
crooning seas
she was never guilty
of lethal love
nor were her
emerald emotions
manipulative games
designed for
ephemeral pleasures~
she, was in
need of a
sublime rhyme
that can set her
healing heart ablaze,
reignite reasons to relive
promises made amidst
inevitable distance
but if pain prompted
a voice
you’ll feel her
bleeding soul
and her aching sight;
she’s seen so much
of what the dying
leaves and
falling season
could do,
yet, the wind
never revealed
secrets of the
sunflower crescent,
for her tale was never
meant to be
told to the weak~
trees with torn twigs,
too afraid to translate
heartbroken hymns
and eager to place
lambent labels
on wilted weeds
and faded flowers,
unaware of the raven runes
flowing in fickle flares
within their
stone cold skin.
Hello, Oblivion am I welcomed to thy realm?
down into the darkness
of the perpetual engines, doom
I saw the sublime dissolution
of my generation
I mourned its irritating irrelevancy
I saw the eternal imaginary
of my place in my history
Burned out at last:
I cannot help but stop and look into the melancholy waste
I cannot help but stop and look at the intellectual subjugation.
This my generation destroyed
down into the darkness
of the perpetual engines of doom
The shadows now fade
sordid, tear-stained ruins
eternal imagery of my perpetual place
Not but prayer is troubled
Not a soul is tortured
Dearly departed I stand in my history
Feeling oblivion come; like the loss of faith
once promised me an eternity now a burial shroud
on the table, a scarlet waste
you once promised me infinity
engines of doom
The shadow now fades
sordid, tear-stained ruins
There is only an illusion of my generation, in bloom
Hello, Oblivion am I welcomed to thy realm?
down into the darkness of the perpetual engines, doom
Hello Oblivion you once promised me until the end of time
so stated the raven nevermore
May thy tomb come upon some desolations shore
In millenniums evermore
Once upon a time, I was created by an 18th century jeweler,
but I do not remember his name because of course I am very old;
for a while, I lay on a satin cushion in a high style store,
although just made of glass and silver, I was still quite expensive.
Then, one bright day a nice gentlemen came in to buy a gift,
he explained to the clerk it was a birthday present for his new wife;
he was shown many pieces until they came to me,
and he exclaimed, oh yes, this is perfect, I will take it, please.
His wife adored me, oh I love the flowers in sparkling glass,
of pink and diamonds, I am going to put it on my new hat;
and there I stayed for years and years till she at last died,
I lay on a closet shelve gathering dust until her daughter found me.
She cleaned me gently and pinned me to her wool jacket,
and I got tons of compliments when we went out shopping together;
she never forgot me and touched me often with great love,
then, she died suddenly . . . and I was given to a charity store.
It was a terrible place, and I just lingered there sad and alone,
until a girl with raven hair picked me up and said oh how pretty;
she took me home- now I live on her dresser . . . . loved.
__________________________
April 13, 2018
Poetry/Personification/The Old Brooch
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1012-723-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Bring To Life
sponsor, Shadow Hamilton
Fourth Place
Karen Croft Among the Dead
Every night she walks into darkness
The amethyst mist swoons her darkened figure
As she glides between the grave stones
the ravens cower over her in pleasure
Keeping watch over her husband
She is among the dead now
The life sucked out of her
To the grounds of the cemetery she remains
Forever trapped in her own dismay
Her once white wedding gown turned from the drowning of her tears
Raven, herself already dead inside
Her soul lost
Her heart stopped beating the night she shot her husband and watched his lifeless
body fall to the floor
She walks in gloom
The cemetery her safe haven
It reserves a place for her
For every where she glances her name is etched in stone