Rasp Poems | Examples

aquamarine

I dreamt of a siren 
with crystal skin and quaint braided hair. 

her eyes, slow swirls of undying azure,
coiled around, her salt-sweet chorus 
tightening at my throat

The alluring notes 
pierce through my rasp scream—

In cold sweats I
wake up nauseous—
My vocal cords enfolded in her skin.

He’s Smooth-I’m Breathless

And it’s just like the ocean under the moon
Oh, it’s the same as the emotion I get from you
You’ve got the kind of lov’n that can be so smooth, yeah
—Itaal Shur, Robert Thomas

He’s Smooth-I’m Breathless

Rob’s smooth, intoxicant, erotic voice.
He sings slowly with sass, a charming rasp.
For ringing in new year, he was my choice.
The instruments’ charm me, I’m in their grasp.

A noddle swoon, elixir fix of cool.
An enchantment of sea and moon, in tides.
Breathless in nineteen- ninety-nine whirlpool.
In sultry croon  - I lose my mind, besides.

Lemons and Life

Of all the songs
You seem to be
The tuneless one,
Less subtlety.

God's orchestra
Has dealt a hand—
More toneless rasp
Than golden strand.

I wonder if
You long to be
A star
In morning's reverie.

Do tears well up?
Perhaps that's why
You paddle more
Than flit and fly.

And yet…
I see you
Standing proud—
Such confidence
In every crowd.

You waddle round,
For pictures pose—
Such character
Without a nose.

You dress with style,
All brown and green.
There's pride in how
You peck and preen.

You're grounded,
Yet you float and glide.
No treetop nest—
You strut with pride.

So maybe I
Prejudged your tone—
Less violin,
More slide trombone.

In that, the panoply
Of life
Requires such confidence
Amid the strife.

To show us humans
Not to compare—
Just be yourselves,
Be fair and square.

And when life gives you
Orange sauce,
Puff out your chest…
Just stay on course.

FOR THE MEMORY

I loved you once
When youth was fresh
Without the rasp of smoke
In your voice

Back when time was mine
Before all of the pages
Were filled by life 
I loved you once

Now the book unfurls
Toward the epitaph
Of my hours and I
Can never return
I loved you once

A Blade of Grass

Feeling like a blade of grass,
Trampled on as strangers pass.
Unwatered, left to nature’s whim,
A fragile life, a light grown dim.

Beneath the weight of careless feet,
I bend and break in cold defeat.
No voice to cry, no strength to stand,
Just one small piece of dying land.

The sky above, indifferent blue,
Shows no concern, no guiding clue.
The rain’s a hope, a fleeting ghost,
A memory of what I need the most.

The sun’s harsh rays, they burn and blind,
A relentless force, a cruel bind.
I thirst for life, for drops of grace,
But find no comfort in this place.

In shadows deep, I try to grow,
But darkness only feeds my woe.
Each day, a battle, each night, a test,
With weary roots, I seek some rest.

My neighbors fall, one by one,
Beneath the weight of scorching sun.
Together, we endure the plight,
Helpless in the endless fight.

Mother Nature, distant, cold,
A cruel caretaker, if truth be told.
We cling to life with desperate grasp,
In silent pain, our spirits rasp.

Feeling like a blade of grass,
Walked upon, as moments pass.
In helplessness, I find my place,
A silent cry, a fading trace.

The Gewgaw Witch

she conjured up a cunning rasp
a gewgaw lyre-like harp in clasp
to crooked teeth held in their grasp
then twanged at midnight with a blast

this higgled haggled haggly crone
did dance on graves while all alone
her gewgaw raising mottled bone
‘til joined by dead with rotting moan
 
bats within the steeple saw
the witch’s pointy nose and jaw
and from her mouth came sounds galore
an array of growls from her gewgaw

so off did dance and prance and play
the bones of dead and her away
from grave to street did people say
beware the gewgaw witch today

a few chuckle perhaps

Talked to a fisherman
He said he hadn’t had a bite in days…so I bit him


Hickory dickory dock
The mice ran up the clock
The clock struck one…
If he clears concussion protocol he’ll start tomorrow


Mary had a little lamb
                                 …and mashed potatoes too.


One potato, two potato, three potato, four
That’s all I could afford so I walked out of the store

Walked into a church.  There sat a tethered parrot on a perch.
With a wily rasp he asked if I could “un-tithe” him


Purchased a pack of condoms
The sales clerk said: “that’ll be $6.95 plus tax”
I replied: “forget the tacks, I’ll tie them on”

Open Poetry 9 - Not Worthy of Life

An outcome more preferable than becoming a slave.
Peace beyond dreaming on the way to my grave.
Accused and found guilty, I was not remanded.
Inflicting retributive punishment is what I was handed.

The noose hung before me, my future to die.
Onlookers glaring in silence, then an insidious cry.
Relentless struggle to take in air, my voice so rasp. 
Agonizing, laborious striving to inhale, I gasp.

Monotonous effort, to force my body to breathe.
All energy spent, a body not worthy of life, I seethe. 
Too weak to continue, as hopeless as it seems, 
To end this misery, was only in my dreams.

A calm settled as images of my bygone years showed. 
The irony of death giving me life was blissfully bestowed. 
All pain diminished, as visions of heaven came to me. 
The  brightest light was all my vision allowed me to see.

Belladonna Field

Good night, old friend.
Hush and sleep.
I’m here as long as we can pretend.
Even after you leave.

If pain is a gateway to the soul,
then my dreams deem your words the key to such a portal
I just can’t tear my eyes away
your blunt nails puncturing skin, their purpose ugly lines

If I could I would rasp a scripted farewell
envelop the spirits you trapped here frame to frame
but the jeers swimming in your Cheshire smile bleed a crimson too real
maybe I should rejoice, this house now a home – not a belladonna field.

But it never will be unlike a cage
twenty years, two decades, one fear, no apology
a few tears won’t erase the scars on her arms 
you the forefront, I the ignorant, and she the child in Omelas

I’m terrified I’m grieving a vile sadist
the people surrounding me either love or hate, curse or forgive, 
they don’t understand what it’s like
to miss someone so soul-crushingly cruel.

This Doesn’t Get A Title Cuz I Hate It

It’s kind of dark out…
Especially for midday.. 
And I’m feeling far out
Pushed to the sea from the bay. 
The tether is slipping, 
I’m weakened in my grasp. 
And from my constant cries
My voice is nothing more than a breathing rasp. 
Please tell me there is light. 

I’m feeling my way 
Against craggy walls 
And I’m missing the days 
I wandered hallowed halls
I’m thirsty and need a drink, 
I would settle for water holy, 
Or wine or a hug or a think, 
Whatever has me feeling found and whole-ly. 
I stumble often 
In these caverns unknown 
And crumble often 
When I notice I’m still un-grown. 
But please, tell me there is light. 

Every rustle, 
Every breeze, 
Has me shaking 
In my knees. 
I can’t see the moonlight 
For the trees 
I have no sight 
To make me feel at ease. 
Just….*sigh* 
Just tell me there is light…

Assythment

Accused of wrong doing, recompense was demanded.
Inflicting retributive punishment is what I was handed.
Relentless struggle to take in air, my voice so rasp. 
Agonizing, laborious striving to inhale, I gasp.
Monotonous effort, to force my body to breathe.
All energy spent, a body not worthy of life, I seethe. 
Too weak to continue, as hopeless as it seems, 
To end this misery, was only in my dreams,
A calm settled as images of my bygone years showed. 
The irony of death giving me life was blissfully bestowed. 
All pain diminished, as visions of heaven came to me. 
Peace beyond dreaming on my journey to the cemetery.

Ascending Belonging

Ascending within; to feel my happiness climB
Setting out solo; internal ecstasy can providE
Carving contentment by relearning to crawL
Enjoying this wonderful spiritual crescendO
Noticing on the way; all little things contaiN
Dualities in me but don't require explaininG
Intrinsic kaleidoscopes; always up the antI
Needless is it to enforce emotional refraiN
Grasp the view feeling truest in belonginG

Maybe It Is Nonsense

My thoughts seek companionship in substance
Substance of the five senses, yes 
But mostly of conscience

Isn’t it torture to go on and on, days across
Pasting social norms over truth
Constantly barely pulling order out of chaos

Can we be serious and real
Or is it just me, or circumstance
To want to not try to feel
Fake

I witness so many shallow laughs
Thinking, save your breath, what’s so funny
Your miraculous brain isn’t such a dummy

I struggle to gasp
When the situation calls for it 
but really I’m stronger and would need more of a rasp

Don’t want to seem numbed and awkward
But lately thinking it’s okay, even Zen
To not have to be another clucking hen,
 trying for the “don’t ruffle my feathers” award

My Silence

In realms of understanding, sorrows intertwined,
Expressed through eloquent grief, a voice confined,
Words fall short, unable to unveil the soul's design,
A silent turmoil within, a tale of its own kind.

Suppressing emotions, a way of life we've embraced,
Words lost in the labyrinth, sentiments left encased,
Dreams and duties, in life's intricate space,
Words fail to capture, time's swift, elusive chase.

Despite endless words, comprehension eludes their grasp,
A silence profound, in the heart's hidden clasp,
What meaning lies in the words they clasp,
A detachment born of indifference, a wordless rasp.

Unearthing hidden truths, an art we strive to hone,
Those who cannot read my eyes, alone,
I beseech you, let my silence be my own,
Only translate my silence into words, if it's known

Berry

Blueberry makes you blue
Blackberry makes you black 
Raspberry makes you rasp 
Cowberry makes you a cow

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