Long Raven Poems
Long Raven Poems. Below are the most popular long Raven by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Raven poems by poem length and keyword.
After "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe
how long shall I be dreaming
of this place where darkness abounds
who shall lift me gleaming
show me your light and heavenly sounds
(or are you the reaper, coming for my eyes)
none then come to douse my sorrow
can there be such, so morbid as this
a smile or a whisper, could I not borrow
a scent, enchanting laughter, one last kiss
(oh reaper no need for a raven disguise)
the wind howls at me, hurling shadows
I am but one step from the door
I think of her and my heart slows
this loss is eating away my core
(oh reaper why seek so my demise)
incessant, ticking time peace on the wall
speed up now for this lonely lost soul
take me from this sorry night’s thrall
ah but I see, can I ever again be whole
(I forget reaper, you own these night skies)
why then contemplate matters so grave
surely shall my spirit soar again
and yet my love I could not save
this place forever then a place of pain
(come on then reaper, together shall we rise)
It's been months I've spent by myself lonely
in this cold, wet cave without your presence.
Countless times I've spoken to you only
to find myself in a fleeting pleasance.
I rest in hope you'll fly back near the ridge.
In my weakness, the thought of you in flight,
with your sleek, midnight blue eyes, and plumage,
gives me comfort through the chill, haggard night.
Your guidance is what I remember most.
I have lived so long in the wilderness.
My mottled gray coat has lengthen almost
white in color for the winter chillness.
You fear me not with my alien charm.
I vowed to keep you safe from any harm.
11/4/2017
Poetry Contest: 'Best Sonnet
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
~*~
remembering still,
the little girl that was,
so lost, lonely and me,
years ago . . . .
on the dappled porch,
humming songs to myself,
all my dolls pretty, while,
birds twitter . . .
china cups for all,
filled with tea not too hot,
wearing grandma's old dress,
make pretend . . .
I tell them stories,
all the pretty dolls, just,
whispering so softly,
my secrets . . .
raven hair hanging,
in a tangled sweet mess,
the dolls all quiet, while,
my tears fall . . . .
______________________
May 9, 2013
Poetry/Verse/Melancholy/remembering still
Copyright Protected, ID 05-476-816-09
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Android, light a fire!
Melt down metal and stone.
Forge of these a wire.
O hateful, hold thy own!
Hordes of havoc, ride with fate!
Loose thy battle cry!
Warrior, thy will is hate!
Compel these to die!
Sigh, O waiting ladies?
Not readily, good sir.
Look up at the Pleiades!
Reality, just blur...
Automaton, black abyss!
Apocalypse; kiss.
Flock of pelican, fish. Grow, gris.
Serpent coiling, hiss.
Bile and blasphemy, break. Be.
All tomorrow, flee.
Beat of my heart, suddenly!
Vision means to see...
Cold confusion, coffee cake!
Help a brother out!
Vampire, do ye fear the stake?
Dragon, do ye doubt?
Flame eternal, burn within!
Blanch, O fire of Sin!
Scorching heat of oven? In!
What ye dream, begin!
Light of spark and intellect!
Brilliant is thy glow!
Raven of fate, how you pecked!
Necked and tossed below!
Chain unbroken, forge. Deep gorge.
Weathervane, point. Sight.
Unit twenty, thou art corge.
One it takes to fight...
The mighty steed was black as night.. (Cobolt was his name)
His rider, Blade, a Warrior Knight
Swiftly through the dark forest he rode
A realm he ruled with an iron code
He was in search of his magical blue amulet
Stolen he believed by a raven.. his enemy's evil pet
Blade was aided in his search by his gray owl
Who flew night and day as for the raven he prowled
His enemy, Prince Zoxi, waited at the forest edge
To kill Blade he had made a solemn pledge
As Blade neared the end of the forest
He drew his sword , which glowed with a fiery zest
The two warriors met at the break of dawn
A fight to the death now began
The battle raged through the early morn
The swords echoed with each clang
Deftly,.. Blade sidestepped a thrust.. and his fiery sword found its mark
Prince Zoxi fell to the ground
The Warrior Knight of the forest dark
had inflicted the fatal wound
He ripped his amulet from Zoxi's neck
And on his mighty steed he made his trek
To his dark forest haven
And his gray owl overhead, and in his talons, the evil raven
The caw of the raven was heard no more
And over the dark forest the gray owl soars
A new enemy from the west, Bomani,.. The mountain warrior, drew near
He shudders when the thunder of the mighty steed he hears
And riding boldly to meet him as with speed his mighty steed explodes
Is.. BLADE.. The Warrior Knight of dark abode
‘Immediate arrival inevitable’ - is the message of emergency he receives from his ‘oak-leaf-worn’ military major whose command an Indian soldier can never imagine reacting or refusing. Crimson-clad, nose-ringed, bangles-jingling, now-wed wife resembling an immaculate-milk-flowing-full-moon; no honey-moon and veil not fully removed yet; not completely contented with looking at each other and drinking from their desire-brim-filling-gestures; love-full, lust-full, feeling for each other’s presence full; tears fill her eyes; he has his hidden pains; leaves for his destiny. She…?
Covered black coffin
national flag, dirge, gun-sounds
a puzzled raven
The image within my avatar is my spiritual self,
a girl, who is desperate to connect with her roots.
Beating drums murmur inside my heart it seems,
and I write of aboriginal ancestors found in dreams;
the reality of dream and reality of life have thin seams.
This spirit girl has written stories since a little child,
grandma said, write your pain and I wrote and wrote;
and thus a poet was born in me, and I found my poetic muse.
My life has been a ravaged garden of death and weeping,
the grief of loss never seems to end or stop creeping;
and into my poetry it will always and forever be seeping.
Grandma said write it, write your pain and I did and I do,
the girl within my avatar is that spiritual girl who writes;
with raven hair like butterfly wings ever floating.
I hold a red rose to represent all the love I have to give
The love of nature is where I find my tranquil peace,
among green beauty and poetry my utter pain I release;
even with a winter blanket my roaming does not cease.
The girl in my avatar is my very own poetic star,
who needs to write for without poetry my spirit will die;
so I write my darkness and my beauty with a bleeding pen,
and I drift with words and forms, themes swirl in my head;
sometimes, I think that I am very odd and quite strange.
But, I have found a group of poets exactly the same,
like me within their souls there is a wild flickering flame;
and we care not if our words ever bring us fame.
____________________________
January 20, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Within My Avatar
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1106-534
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I tapped my keyboard, my eyes bleary
As I tried to write a novel that was no bore
I looked for inspiration, how to avoid clichés temptation
I’d write about rejuvenation—hope for the lonely lass Lenore—
An epic tale of a maiden born anew named Lenore—
A blockbuster for evermore.
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
“I have writer’s block, Mr. Raven, perhaps thou might be a maven.
Though you be ghastly grim and ancient wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me can a modern writer craft prose that’s not a bore?”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“My idea that just can't lose, a crippled, homeless guy who likes booze
He’ll rise to fame and glory but I worry on some phrases in this story.
This and more I plan I’d write but the DEI staff might fight
On the plot’s blood and gore that tells life’s authentic core
Where from zero to hero, he’ll wins the fair Lenore
Wins her love forevermore!
The Raven looked pained and croaked "Nevermore!"
Then, the air got denser, this bird was a woke censor
A ghastly leftist bird who drifted over my parquet floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “who appointed thee—to impoverish my vocabulary
Give me respite – let me write my way the story of Lenore;
Don’t dilute my novel to be a crashing bore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
Is it possible nowadays to write a novel at all?
Can I earn more than zero, if I include a macho hero
A macho hero to clasp a demented maiden who won't be sore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore?”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the underworld’s dark shore!
“Don’t use ‘dark” said the Raven, “use BIPOC instead” as he continued sitting
On the pallid bust of Obama just above my chamber door;
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out my body that lies contorted on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
A very Beautiful Woman, with long Flowing Raven Hair : excites the Heart
Her Cherubim face, the body of a goddess , God’s Perfection : Heavenly ART
Deep Brown Eyes, searching the Skies ; Seeking the Relief of “ SORROW “
Looking AWAY “from Today” ALWAYS Remembers “ Yesterday ‘ - “ TOMORROW “
Forlorn ; These Tearful EYES , Cry : “ dry “ , unloosens the Pain of a Broken Heart
The Pain never Ceases ; The Heartbeat Increases ; an Ebony work of “ A R T “
YOU Know That YOUR LOVED Ones : Wait ; at the “ PEARLY GATE “
Life in YOUR Eyes : Tears do not Cry anymore : such is the Lonesome’s : “ FATE “
The Pain I Feel when I Look into YOUR , Doe Brown Eyes Eyes So Full of “ SORROW “
Sorrow I have Seen the Mystery of the Past : In the History of LIFE “I See :
"T O M O R R O W”
So Many Prayers , I have Prayed For YOU; Please do not Prove Me : Am I UNTRUE ??
The Silence of a Roaring Tear Sliding down YOUR Cheek : Is Well Over DO
Tears are red Flags, of Desperation: The Tears in YOUR Eyes : “ INSPIRATION “
I feel YOUR Pain, YOUR Agony, YOUR Loss of a LOVED One, the eyes of Creation
Eyes of LOVE , that burrows into Your Soul , Eyes of LOVE; in Sadness
Never " Grow "
Like the aging of the Magnificent Oak; the Sorrow of ages Spoke: in Her Eyes
Forever " Glow "
Inspired By a Blog Picture of Constance La France
~ Dedicated To Constance La France a Rambling POET
With LOVE : ALWAYS - Constance ’ YOUR Liege…Harry ( HG )
Spider of Love weaves us a tale
Of Kings and Queens Prophets and Outlaws
Pirates set e explosions ensue
Water washed me but fire bathed me in spiritual fruit
Guiding my heart to Mountain King Emanuel who starts all fire
Our shadow blades cut deep to their souls
Ravens and Crows circle their lands
How mighty they thought their wolves indeed were
No wolf can compare to the Lamb with seven eyes
A bear tried war with the ancient of days
a leopard did think it could war with the seven spirits King
He is war itself he holds the key to death and even the grave
those Pirates may echo the drum beat of war
But Only The captain of heavens armies can bring us true peace
He tried a violin solo to bring about calm but the soothing sound of Jesus melts all the worlds hearts
Indeed a sword fight broke out in between them all
Explosions ensued and we did eat some pumpkin stew with shark steak on the side
In dragons tongue they spoke all myriad of tales
Unbeknownst to them all one mighty weaver of tales like a spider did does spin it all with our many minds and we think we are the writers but One Holy ghost does write it all named Mountain King Rising deep inside your very soul this second he smiles in my heart at me now