Short Rasping Poems
Short Rasping Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rasping by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rasping by length and keyword.
Burnished pheasant,
Repulsed by noon's bright sunshine,
Rasping brazenly,
Calls the plump hens to his side...
Hurry to him, concubines.
On meow buses
no cat fusses.
Sweet little kitties
meow rodent ditties;
deck out bunting
time for hunting.
With pounding paws
furries prime claws.
Amid glad rasping
there is no fasting.
The amber skein of autumn leaves,
embanks the tumbling torrent
of the splendid forest stream.
A salmon homes to lay its roe.
Follow her, as she curvets
the swollen falls and rasping stones.
Form:
From unconsciousness
I rise, sputtering
Warm liquid erupting
Belched from the lungs
Choked out, retching
Airways blazing
Rasping, gasping
Writhing for oxygen
That time I fell asleep
In front of the telly
With a mouthful of tea :)
Rasping like fleas
In August
the barn roof leaked
The plums hummed full of bees
the sweet nectar captivating
The children's heads nodding like flowers
and Mother couldn't care
Her form shrugging away
Presumably she would leave for home, unlit
Water on a leaf held
an offering
above the parched earth.
A moment of concentration
being shattered,
into the rasping dryness.
A small peace
for short reflection
upon the Cherise, clear
and quenching.
A tiny oasis left
forgotten rain
Remembering.
It begins inside
with the refusal to be
a machine.
It begins inside
with the refusal to recognize
the beat you play.
It begins with a frown. And a shrug.
And a turning away
To a voice
kinder and sweeter
than the
rasping rattling, redolent
of your empty threats.
Riding out
into the sunset
towards sunny uplands
before moons fall
scattering rock
and tiny diamonds
as crimsoned penumbra
encircles all things.
Dark swoops like a bat
to engulf the rasping throes
of surety.
Dawn awakes fretful
Mirrors and masks fail.
A rasping pain persists in my aching knees
Nothing brings relief, despite my pleas,
Salves and creams I’ve tried won’t assuage
Arthritis persists – it’s the bane of old age,
If you know what works, oh, tell me please.
written March 5, 2022
Two carbon entities
exhale green miasmas
and throttle white throats
in a noose of iron.
The cored captives
diaphanous and rasping
plummet to frightful circles
where sardonic wraiths
gnarl wingèd flesh
in screeching packs
as time loops reverberate
manic and mindless.
The repetitive saw of metal against metal,
The bashing of steel for designs,
The whir of the copper polished
And the hiss of the patina finished.
The file and sandpaper rasping on the brass
The noise all around
The hammers they pound,
As we create our own sound.
The past rises
grey and pink
amid rasping gravel
barnacled to chasms
sunken and sodden
clawing at hasty feet
that skate manically
and hurl bodies cruciform
onto mocking concrete.
The marred morn pauses
for a nanosecond
to ponder the maelstrom
of mangled flesh
and sirens.
Have you ever heard of a rasping rhapsody
It is sung over the blue mountains in agony
Where broken hearts wail
And speak of their travail
As they wait for the Divine Kiss
Where He meets them in a Secret Tryst
Setting them free from all their pain
Till their rasping turns into a melodious strain.
A rasping autumn's evening rings
Caressing in coppered exultation
Rising gently in satisfaction
And winter coming dances merrily
Time lifts with quiet dignity
In the starlit nighty
A cloud sparkles incandescently
As God draws nature in delicately
While artful flurries, spreading opulently
sunrise gemstone glow
sound of rasping tangled leaves
landscape through the haze
time blessed with the richest hues
reflects the joy of childhood
Quiet my jangling head
[marbles set loose in a drain pipe]
Silence churning doubts
[acid bath of corrosive thought]
Calm my rasping breath
[jagged edges of restricted output]
Cease excessive activity
[upanddown the spiral staircase]
Steady my stricken hands
[pounding pegs into nonexistent holes]
Undo me.
Scrambled legs
Tingling fingers
Grayscale of concrete.
Shimmering metal
Dancing air
No energy to deplete.
Rasping breaths
Stomach twisted
Into a crumpled bow.
Quietly shrinking
Girl in a dryer
Shriveled lips of snow.
Lurching throat
Dried up tongue
But nothing will come up,
Scarecrow arms
And glass-shard legs
Are never thin enough.
in the closed door shadows
listen for her announcement
to precipitate his arrival
cock and sock in hands
for she will make him remove
any excess
splattered on her floor
from behind door
the grunts
have become one
and rhythm ceased its turn
Her rasping off
as i scuttle back to safety
waiting for them to leave
our room
Gasping
rasping
clasping
grasping
condemned man's last gasping, rasping breath,
hands on the noose clasping, grasping- death
(* Tyburn was the site of public hangings in London from the 12th century,
executing everyone from Highwaymen to Clergymen, at what is now Marble Arch)
For contest 'write me a Tyburn', sponsor Kim Rodrigues
24th january 2018
Fireworks!
Lights sparkling
Ruby delight
Fizzing, whizzing
Glistening night
Bright diamonds
Golden rain
Blasting, rasping
Again and again
Rays flashing
Shattered drops
Dashing, splashing
Cannon ball shots
Wild explosions
Busting high
Booming, zooming
Bejewelled sky
Folks laughing
Gusty cheers
Glimmering, shimmering
Chandeliers
Death
I saw him, the spectre, watching, stealing my life.
His dark mouth and toothless grin, hid from all light,
while all near, withered at its feet.
And when he pointed his rasping, barbed finger at me
in the half-light; I felt its pull; its sting, its ghostly glue,
leading me to him.
Pull away? How?
When death comes your way; the journey’s just begun.
red thunderstorms
in the distance waves
of rain and air kiss
where are you now
wet micro busting
chaotic turbulence
destructive and intense
violent kisses on planes
are crashing debris
where are you
moving yellow jackets
stinging voyage of my
longing dangers of love
organic cabbage fields
rasping voice of subterranean
monsters blue night dropping
where are you
sep 15 2016
7.13 am
Form:
Epiphanic thoughts
Erupting violently
Odd Conceptions
Chaotically dance
Within confines of mind
Rendering indecision
Empty answers
Sallow questions
Sluicing freefall
Over bottomless precipice
Panicked emotion
Building pressures
Rasping hard
For control.
Descending
Through austere winds
Terminal velocity
This raindrop hits
Exploding silence
Upon my forehead
Calming…
My Everything
Midsummer nights come with humid sighs,
Offering little sleep on soggy August nights
With cicadas rasping and moths lighting,
Where such critters are clearly unwanted
In spite of it all, I try to remain undaunted.
Me and the bedclothes constantly fighting
Up and down, rearranging, turning on lights,
Moths are now joined by two pesky flies.
written July 13, 2021
Would I ever forget
finding in my pocket
a grain of silvery sand
rasping upon my hand.
Although just a granule,
trivial and minuscule,
gently it whispers that
I, too, am a mere dot.
At the end of a track
the last note is struck;
relax the gripping hand,
life vanishes like sand.