Rasped Poems - Poems about Rasped

......After a bit her cries died down, everyone could see she was dead, a small head hung between her thighs, mother and son covered in red. He had seen so much callousness, but this he just couldn......

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...Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights. He handed her a firebomb, eyes sharp as vinegar. They ran across the hot asphalt, wat......

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...Ariana shrugged facing Josh’s mocking clap the stringy harmonica rang acrobatically on the streetlights. He handed her a firebomb, eyes sharp as vinegar. They ran across the hot asphalt, wat......

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...When will my judgment come? He asked of him, who stood, face shadow-masked in moonlit dark, beside his right. Don't let it be this mournful night. Perhaps so, or not; has, or ne'er, they rasped,......

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......His hand flashed fast, the Colt spoke loudly, Dalton was struck, flew back wildly. Silas shifted right, cut down that man, still fumbling with the gun in his hand. The other man threw his ha......

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... I step out into the evening, into a cloud of whispered conversations, insect talk, birds uttering their “goodnights” high in the trees, the days last gossip settling back into a more respec......

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...'Dinner won't be long, Dear.' Burt puffed up his pillows and squeezed one out. 'Better wash your hands, now'. The armchair smothered his glee. Wallaby faggots, Brown rice juices, L......

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... Written: November 08, 2023, For John Lawless Contest Failure is a detour, not a dead-end street. Quote by Zig Ziglar ___________________________......

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...Long, long ago in a land far away, they lived a wise old woman who talked to the trees. She had a little crooked back and wobbly knees. She lived in a tiny tumbledown shack, and her name was ......

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...Sitting beside the pond Enjoying the peace and quiet, Listening to the sound of trees Swaying gently in the warm wind, And the trickle of water tickling the lily pads, As it fell from above. ......

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...Strewn across a wide plain, sheep bones dazzle in the bright sun. On the horizon, phantoms coalesce then melt away into watery lies. The only sound is the dry, papery whispers of saltbush ras......

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...A skinny black girl, her torso submerged, long neck holding her head up like a swimming Anhinga. I should not know what a ‘snakebird’ is --- I am eleven years old and have lived in the same dirt......

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...I am trapped in this sterile place. My voice is forced to pace. The love I once rasped about. Is lost in the horror of doubt. My trail is burned like trash. As if my mark is a fie......

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...A carpenter’s daughter am I but I do so love music. So I built myself a lap dulcimer of fine wild cherry and walnut; I used my late Father’s old jigsaw, cutting each plank into an elo......

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...I accidentally let one loose Sipping the communion juice The priest looked down With a disapproving frown Some parishioners gasped Mothers, their babies clasped The sexton's voice rasped: ......

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