Short Rasp Poems

black wings drip white snow
raspy call of an old crow…
crystallized flakes blow...

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

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Listen to poem:

sublime hood-winker 
such a master of the con
the press tags along
faked rebellion builds up strength
to allay a real one...

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Merry Martian march,
Ardent adventures adorned;
Restless ravens rasp…
Cozy caressing calmness 
Heavenly harmony haunts

29 March 2023...

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some say
the world is
flat perhaps 

theirs
but mine has
curves that define

no straight lines but 
places where the 
sun can set

behind the 
pear and
peach

trees
or the
rasp

berry

bush...

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she gazed
i forgot to
shave into
my hairy
ball's

she said
i see
i see
it's fuzzy
and blurred

something
lovingly
unheard
almost
absurd

rasp
berry
pancakes
with a honey
a sweet syruppy thing...

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All our loving years
Never slept on tiff or tears
Grasp this Snow White dove
En route to heaven above 
Leave the gate ajar, my love


18 May 2021
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Contest: Tankacrostic...

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My hands are webbed- I can not grasp. 

All I can do is feel the clawing rasp. 

Of laughter in my veins. 

That causes rippling pains. 

I am appalled, I am taunted. 

By loving words that are haunted. 

I am sorry for my fear.

As I wait for sleep to take my last tear. 

10/6/2021...

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of paper unwrapping
that cloud wisp of wisping cloud
that turns to eagle talon
that acrobat plastic bag
flirting with the breeze
scampering ant trying to avoid the falling droplet
curled leaves that adorn
the face of tree forlorn
cursing clouds
as the splinter's emerge
written on back yard step...

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I expect to find something funny in dying.
The bed unkempt like my hair
The room musty as my odor
The air moist
Unlike the dry rasp of my barely audible voice
My breathing labored as the crawling of the Sun
And in the eve the moon fullest at the last
And I will laugh with the man-in-the-moon
At the whatever-after....

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Feelin’ fine,
Got some crazy thoughts-
Wavering in my mind,
Garlic on my breath,
In my mouth,
On my taste buds,
It keeps them at bay,
The rasp of their voices,
With their sheer speed-
They are upon me,
Licking my body with their harsh tongues,
Rough patches anoint my collarbone,
My shrill scream slays the demonic silence....

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Strum on my wrecked nerves 'til I faint
cuffed and connected to your pick;
I'll be the oil on your guitar 
hitting your pulse points with my gasp;

Left with need I'll have no complaint
except when the encore's a trick;
That just takes it a step too far.
like your hand on a broken clasp;

Turning you on with my desire,
becoming the craving you rasp....

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Scribo wished for a limerick

but then he crushed his writing stick

too much hard reason

ink went for treason

rhymes and rhythm became quite sick


with a bent nib in his firm grasp

mind and meaning loosened a clasp

he clawed back feeling

spinning free wheeling

filed senses with passionate rasp


27th February 2021


howmanysyllables.com...

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Parched land
thirsty
dry and raw
scorching sun
burning on skin
cracked lips
bleeding sore
breathing in rasp
lost in a desert
of sand.

Feet aching
from walking miles
without shoes
of comfort
internal exhaustion
physical pain
pushing forward
to destinations unknown
wide horizon
of endless journey
reality from the mirage
illusionary want
of not having....

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(Q)uiet morning
(U)nwraps the day
(I)nspiration simmers below the surface
(E)ncouraged by a periodic bird song
(T)o contribute something to say

(M)orning is a beginning
(O)ffering a trime to start fresh
(R))eigniting things to enjoy
(N)ever ignore desires
(I)nviting the best within
(N)ight is behind and beyond
(G)rasp this day for all its worth

Heidi Sands

5/30/21...

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A-n hour is so very short, 
R-unning time is fading fast; 
N-ever waste the given moment 
O-r chance that will never 
L-ast. 

T-ake or grab an opportunity, 
U-sing the clock's minute hand; 
G-rasp the day's good break, 
A-s the second isn't in command. 
N-ever let the buzzer beat you, let your speed be in power; 
O-n the fifteenth of January, wisely spend ticks of an hour....

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Must be something in my shoe,
Explainin' why I'm stumbling before you...
Can't get a grasp
Don't know why 
Can only talk in a rasp
This vertigo makes me spin
I see two suns in the sunset
And this a war I can't win

Seem to hear
Voices not there
Commands to do
What I must not dare

So this is what is insanity?
Confusing, I tell you
What is real
What is not
I think my mind
Is totally shot....

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My life is falling down hill.
Is this world even real.
I can kind of feel, the things around me.
It sounds to me like death.
So I take a deep breath.
Something has a grasp.
Then i feel a rasp, upon my body.
This sensation makes me feel droddy.
An abyss of darkness.
endless and always heartless.
Corrupted people with broken minds.
There are to many kinds to face.
So i try and show no trace, of myself....

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as the fog of day lifts
memories break through

remembrance
of your pale face
almost matching
that gray gown
your wore haphazardly 

the rasp of your voice
as you struggled
to speak through gasps

the countless seconds
that seemed eternal 
between each beat
of your dying heart

the rise and fall
of your chest
in the last few draws
of breath

then the stillness
of death....


October 1, 2019...

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COPLA SESENTA Y TRES: This Bad Guy World

The Enemy resides in us
Not by invitation nor by ruse:
Bad day Good night

Could lone Yang gather in surplus
The Yin put down to no good use:
Dark day Bright night

Could the Almighty fear Evil
Is he ONE opposed to the ONE:
Both indigenes

Garden warblers’ pure early trill
Deaf magpies shriek and rasp their tongue:
Mutable genes

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014...

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My energy I conserve, 
Not for the guests seats
I have yet to reserve
Nor for their paid meat
I should carefully preserve…
Squarely for the nice treat
My boys deserve.

Their negligence I’ve grasped
And at it gasped
And hands of shock clasped!

Now, my voice to be a rasp
And my sting that of a wasp:
Welts to on skin break out,
Pain-enduring lips pout;
In drug stores no liniment
For their energy-backed punishment....

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The Manzanita clacks in 
gelid breezes
like the clap of clacking bones. 

Reddish painted branches 
reach their grey, bent shadows 
on stone from

hulking, brewing
drifting welkins.

Peeling, crackled, weathered 
bark 

grasp,  grind and intertwine
gnarled fingers as they rasp and clonk.

Silhouetted by the yawning flame  
dipping low, 

dances the macabre branches, 
on a stage glacial white with 
winter snow....

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The tight-rope of salvation
Is a straining, wire-taut strand
You inch along on foot-chafed trepidation
Defying Satan’s law of gravitation,
God’s balance-pole inside your hand.

Below, the audience is cheering,
Your equipoise of faith precludes all fearing—
Your toes assert their knowing, nimble grasp.
The platform, once so far, now’s nearing.
Step upon it! Crowd gives out a gasp—
Satan curses with a hoarse and rueful rasp....

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The tight-rope of salvation
Is a straining, wire-taut strand
You inch along on foot-chafed trepidation
Defying Satan’s law of gravitation,
God’s balance-pole inside your hand.

Below, the audience is cheering,
Your equipoise of faith precludes all fearing—
Your toes assert their knowing, nimble grasp.
The platform, once so far, now’s nearing.
Step upon it! Crowd gives out a gasp—
Satan curses with a hoarse and rueful rasp....

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The tight-rope of salvation
Is a straining, wire-taut strand
You inch along on foot-chafed trepidation
Defying Satan’s law of gravitation,
God’s balance-pole inside your hand.

Below, the audience is cheering,
Your equipoise of faith precludes all fearing—
Your toes assert their knowing, nimble grasp.
The platform, once so far, now’s nearing.
Step upon it! Crowd gives out a gasp—
Satan curses with a hoarse and rueful rasp....

Read More