Long Rawest Poems
Long Rawest Poems. Below are the most popular long Rawest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rawest poems by poem length and keyword.
As a loosed bird and the broad liberties of the sky,
So have been long life’s borderless freedoms and I;
I often have kissed countless trolls’ decoying lips,
And thought their lush mouths such nectared tips.
I severally have ridden on the precarious backs
Of seamless airs and on swift-swimming sharks,
Whereon Fate and Time had gigantic glutting turn;
Soiling the white soul in which raging embers burn.
I never have seen vast humanity’s single heart,
Kind enough to lend even a distant aiding hand;
Always have larger world’s gloatingly fired eyes
Weirdly relished this one-man’s lamenting band.
Never have greenest dreams and rawest sorrows
Met so juxtaposedly on bullish life's shifting plane;
Nor guillotined goals thus defied Destiny’s gallows,
To pay with hope such low lot as only pariahs gain.
He's never alone who with his intact dreams abides,
For fortune will someday show her soft hidden sides.
If asked..but no one ever will
What I miss most
I am torn
Is it the champagne of your skin? The silken purity
Or your Love in its rawest most vulnerable desperate clinging clutching beauty
Or is it the avacadoness of your voice?
Your rolling...Har
you spoke my name...over and over
But perhaps it is your avid wandering searching ever learning mind? Did you say HTML...or was it Adobe...or a theoretical mathematical three dimensional formulation of angles and curves...bacon strips or drops theory
Did I love you?
Dropped to knees
Fallen to floor
Pulled over as not to hurt others with my car
You ask for an answer that the entire universe knows all too too well
But somehow...you missed the memo
No one sends memos anymore
Its all group text
and conference calls..and video chattings
Will there be remnant markings in the geologic strata that show the remnants of cell phones and laptops
like Dinasuar bones today...will they say ...they lived in the
Facebookian era...or the twiterian...or instagramian...or the lostmindian
Just saying...we have all gone completely mad and we are soon to be dust from dust...bone from bone
and fast worthy of deep reflective and historical folly
study
What's that robed in gleaming emeralds rare,
Among the so-called dark-hued junkets plain?
So in blackest nooks glittering gems do glow,
Where prejudice would like them labelled vain?
Bravest arms that swift swords in virtue wave,
Cry for the very plunder their rawest valor gave;
Lying hands that didn't any valiant battles fight,
Claim the loot and push its owners out of sight.
Who is that warrior in harm's way yet unbent,
In peril's fierce path still going fast and stout?
See with what peerless conquest unparalleled,
The fitting patriot fags foes with fearless rout?
The country-loving martyr in clammy attires red,
Misses the full liberty into which his bravery led.
The country-hating bigot with faint fallacies bleak,
Takes all glory and dubs him an undeserving freak.
If Nature herself can't her succinct laws rewrite,
Don't tell me that Black is not as good as White!
I wither away writhing with protest
As I toss the option to liquidate my hate
Paralyzed more often than just depressed
A language not meant to nimbly translate
As I toss the option to liquidate my hate
The richest pain begins to harvest
A language not meant to nimbly translate
While vile sadness rapes my inner sadist
The richest pain begins to harvest
Shrouded deeply in my darkest trait
While vile sadness rapes my inner sadist
Leaving it baron in its rawest state
Shrouded deeply in my darkest trait
Numbness freezes my flow of interest
Leaving it baron in its rawest state
Casual indifference is delivered unbiased
Numbness freezes my flow of interest
Prompting my defunct deflated gait
Casual indifference is delivered unbiased
When calloused logic educates the debate
Prompting my defunct deflated gait
Paralyzed more often than just depressed
When calloused logic educates the debate
I wither away writhing with protest
--4/10/2017--
Choose A Topic: Depression and Sadness
'Tis well-known that military blokes speak a lingo of their own,
But it has served them well over the years, it has been shown!
To a General or a Private, such jargon is totally sensible,
But to ordinary citizens, 'tis utterly incomprehensible!
"Yard birds" know all about "policing the area" and "kitchen police."
A seasoned "grunt" knows what it means to "clean his piece."
The "head" is a sanctuary for musing to a sailor or marine,
But to an airman or soldier, 'tis better known as the "latrine."
When on the firing line the Sergeant yells, "Fire at will!"
Guys aim not to kill Will but to improve their shooting skill!
When a Corporal invites his squad to a "GI Party" on Friday night,
There'll be no beer but you'll scrub the floor and do it right!
From the dreaded "Reveille" to "Retreat" (when troops must salute),
Bugle calls herald tidings quickly learned by even the rawest recruit!
Everyone scans the "Daily Bulletin" for the latest "scuttlebutt."
On parade, troopers snicker watching "second louies" strut!
Essential to national defense, the brass concoct acronyms galore,
And there are geniuses in the Pentagon always begetting more,
Word forms from (A)WACS to (Z)ULU and betwixt ad infinitum!
Ah! Those handy acronyms! How could we fight a war without 'em!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I built a temple for you
out of hours I could not afford.
Every prayer
was the shape of your name,
every offering
the sacrifice of my sleep, my breath, my will.
Devotion, I learned,
is a double-edged worship.
It is holy, yes-
but it is also hunger.
And hunger, when unanswered,
becomes desperation.
I waited at the altar
long after the candles died,
knees aching,
heart splintering.
Your silence grew taller than cathedrals,
yet I still bent my head to it
as if silence were proof
you were listening.
What kind of faith is this,
to kneel before someone
who does not even notice
the blood at my feet?
To believe in salvation
from hands that never reach back?
Still, I remained.
Because love, in its rawest form,
is not gentle.
It is a tether that bruises the skin,
a chain dressed as devotion,
a prayer whispered into nothing
with the desperate hope
that nothing will answer.
Life's beauty is hidden in strife,
For contrast alone gives meaning to life.
No darkness, no dawn,
No battle, no crown.
No winter, no spring,
No cage, no soaring wing.
No rain, no bloom,
No silence, no tune.
No fear, no courage,
No risk, no voyage.
No fire, no gold,
No spirit, no soul.
No doubt, no belief,
No sorrow, no relief.
No loss, no gain,
No clouds, no rain.
No longing, no art,
No end, no start.
No depth, no height,
No struggle, no flight.
No war, no warrior,
No front, no rear.
No life, no death,
No whisper, no breath.
No mud, no lotus,
No roots, no focus.
No pain, no poetry,
No heart, no melody.
Poetry isn't just about rhyme and flow,
It's the rawest truth the heart can show.
No pain, no poetry—not just a notion,
But the soul’s deepest, truest emotion.
Poetry is born from life's deepest wounds,
Yet it blooms like a flower in suffering’s ruins.
Whirling through torpedoes of sound,
spinning and tailing its way like Raphael to earth,
shoots some uninstantaneous ether:
the impermeable myelin of true experience.
The soul—the richest treasure chest ever found;
creating, disseminating, revealing, glimmering, alluring.
Rawest sense material pinging in gold-tipped purls of rose-furls:
stroking the ears as gently as a brook,
yet roaring with the might of an ocean-river undammed,
with strength enough to loose the captives.
Dance—that vital union of impulse and excursus,
Funnelling to earth to free the heart with unspeakable words.
Beauty will save the world, said a great Russian writer:
But how does that matter unless it first save our souls?
Wending, winking, welding walls of splendor; almighty proportions,
austere glory of Euclidean quintessence,
draining, distilling, disgorging life's elixir into a jet-black pearl
suspended in honey-dew drops:
Then the peak of the ascent and the plummet back to the globe of the touched;
yet refusing to leave us untouched.
Surely there is more to what there is than whatever we wish it to be,
Yet the continuum plunges on in measured oar-strokes,
to reach in all haste that prized and glistering and all-consuming whole;
Unfilched fire of sparks and symmetries to wound the soul with terror
Of the known but not realized:
After all that, we arrive at the beginning,
and let our sails be billowed with burnished breezes.
How I'd relish standing Obama at a brace and show him how to salute!
He's shown zero respect to the Marines and I suppose he thinks he's cute.
No one salutes with a coffee cup in hand, not even the rawest, dumbest recruit!
Should a soldier, sailor, airman or marine do such, he'd suffer the toe of a boot!
He's been seen on camera saluting the flag with his left hand over his chest;
With hands over his crotch or no salute at all with neither hand on his breast.
If the president is interested in gaining the respect of those who keep us free,
I'd volunteer to teach him the rudiments of saluting as learned by this old retiree!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
(dedicated to Naija, my countree)
Naija, I hail o
A house horrorful than
The Hammer house of horror!
Naija, I hail o
An animal dreadful than
The dreaded white shark!
Naija, I hail o
A den of animallike humans
Who prey on all preyables!
Naija, I hail o
The home of impersonation
At its peak..
The den of corruption
At its best...
The hearthrob of religious bigotry
At its purest...
The lover of insecurity
At its highest...
The house of crimes
At its rawest...
The sweetheart of deception
At its masterpiece...
The friend of political acrimony
At its baddest....
The all in all of things
Better left unsaid
At its various unsaid forms...
Naija, I hail o
A marriage of convenience
By the British
Now a kid
Of inconveniencies and anarchy....
Naija, I hail o
Where everything thought
To be impossible is done
With a malevolent frangrance!
To the amazement
Of all and sundry!
Naija, I hail o
Where few enjoy
And the most suffer
Yet
Tonnes of smiles
Flood every face you can see!
Naija, I hail o
Where I keep wondering
When will it all change?