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Best Poems Written by Raki Lyon

Below are the all-time best Raki Lyon poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Descent Into Shadows

What if I told you that I was weak
Eyes bleak;couldn't reach even the companion I seek
What if I told you I was insane
Riding in the pain; Bonnie and Clyde stunt till no part of me remain
What if i said that I was falling
Darkness calling; funeral dirges echoing from the night until the morning.
Space and time couldn't bring it down
Til you shot through the defence ;holding it by the throat snuffing the life it had.
The arrow I sent to the skies wishing it all the best
Has reversed with an increasing speed until it hit it in the chest.
Dim glow;blood flow
Eyes wide; soul go

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The Search

I saw God 
Over a shattered mirror
Fragments of my mind 
Echoes of spoken promises

I saw God again
In the depths of the pool
Crystal clear,ocean blue
Bubbles of the swimming pool

I did not see God
On the walls
Painted with the blood and tears of men
Adorned with the sacrifices of withered hands

I saw God 
In the tears of a lamb
Innocence etched in his crushed eyes
Bleats of pain,of crushed pain

I saw God 
But who is he?

Details | Raki Lyon Poem

An Ode To Timeless Beauty

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Skin bright,eyes shine brighter than the noon's ray.
A smile that gladdens the heart of a weary stranger,
And causes death to sigh in envy.

Shall I compare thee to the volcano?
The eyes of molten magma.
Piercing stare that melts the heart of the proudest man,
And the face that consumes one with awesome delight.

Shall I compare thee to the brightest star?
For your skin shines like the angel that you already are.
A face that causes the gloomy hell to shine bright,
And my stony heart,to leap in fiery delight.

What else shall I compare thee to?
For your beauty is greater than the diamonds too.
And your sunny face,
A testament of nature's ways.

Details | Raki Lyon Poem

The crispy crusty bread

The crispy crusty bread
Was as lonely as it gets
As handsome as he was
He had no bride to wed

The crispy crusty bread
He tries all that he can
But to woo a bride he can't
Except the rickety stickety jam

The crispy crusty bread
At last, at noon he said
By this time tomorrow
Bride or death, I'll have instead

The crispy crusty bread
At last,wooed a lass called butter
They had a wedding on the stars 
And lived happily ever after

Details | Raki Lyon Poem

god of men

Corrupt heart, depraved mind
A master of time, the weaver of trap
One whose mouth, falsehood emit
Gone from men, man and ghoul part and part

A victor, the slayer of ten men
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
The stopper of the flow of time
Catching his victim, in his well made net

Armed with a sneering dog
He is myth, the god of men
He was here before humans lived
The devil we can see

A menace since he was in diaper
Daily baths in the pool of tears
Constant loop of wretching blows
Till he killed the first, a debt repaid

He swore to fight as long as he live
Till he becomes one, the evil incarnate
Indomitable will, never to de-rail
He became the killer, the liar, the satan

He walks unimpeded to glory
A war dog, feared berserker
Hushed whispers turned raw
The god of men, the breaker of dreams

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I know a man

I know a man
Who has trauma melted into his very soul
Eyes shine with the blackness of his soul
Dragon wings like hunchback
A weight too great to stand aright

I know a man
Who has spent his entire existence searching for some hidden truth
Sculpted in the corners of his room
Thinking, thinking, feeling
Clawing at his head, his throat
Eureka or madness?

I know a man
Who walks like the world is on his shoulders
Mouth glued shut, nose wrinkled
Posture like the map of Africa
Slouched, bent, broken

I know a man
Who writes every night
Words people never get
Plans people pause to forget
Art artists detest
A failure who thinks himself misunderstood

I know a man 
Who looks every bit his age
Comatose eyes, lifeless and weary
Face pressed into submission 
Every line, a sign of his many failures
Doubts like sweet incense

I know a man
Taut with passive pain
Benign smile, hollow laughter
Shades because he's scared they'll see his eyes
The eyes so far shrunken, they become pinholes

I know a Man
You know him too

Details | Raki Lyon Poem

The girl with the looking glass

The girl with the looking glass
  Is walking down the stairs
 Daintly steps,happy lass
 A girl with zero cares

The girl tumbles down 
 The scene a little sad
Knees hurt, torn gown
 Away goes the joy she had

The girl with the looking glass
 Happy as the sun
Is besmirched with the event past
Lips brushed,all happiness gone

The girl with the looking glass
Is cursed with the fate of a broken glass

Details | Raki Lyon Poem

The Human Condition

In the mirror of this world
I see a face that is not my own
A stranger,dripping tears of blood
And cast with impunity to the very depths of hell

Dwelling in the haunted shadows
Cursed to wander this accursed world alone
Forbidden to love,hate a name to be embraced
Lest you fall asunder in the bosom of a friend

The horrors of living oft in a void
Seeing the evils that man doth did alone
Flesh eat flesh,blood cast and trampled in mud
Power and fame,the price of one's soul to sell

The world, a place where evil grows
Birth to death birthing a cycle of woe
Preaching of godless men yet hearts unfazed
Man or fiend,both journey towards the same end

But is this all there is 
Is the hope of men like the a burnt wood
Is life a brutal endless cycle
That death is but a welcome reprieve

Nay,but there is a cycle of love and peace
There is the end  of all that is good
A greeting that ends with a smile
And a deed of which is hope revived.

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The coming of spring

In the city of snow 
Dressed in precious white
He sits on the stool of glow
Covered in fiery light

Thunder and lightning
Fire meets sound
The sight is frightening
Rumblings from the skies to the ground

He rises from his fiery site
He wipes the drops from his eyes
Turning to mist in the fiery night
Stormy downpour in the weepy skies

The time is right for the coming of spring 
We bide the joy the spring will bring

Details | Raki Lyon Poem

The tale of the whistling sock

Asleep in the bottom drawer
A place I now call home
I hear a voice call my name
"Sockie, Sockie" where are you 

I am here
I seem to yell
But my voice was muffled
By rolls of clothing hell

I listen to the frustrated grunts and growls
Doors slam 
The smell of brewed coffee
I guess it's early in the morning 

I try to stand 
Alas,held by the cuffs of clothes
A wretched ordeal 
That I could not foresee

Till I had an idea
So mad it's genius
I used my little lips 
And I began to whistle

Till at last it got to you
And then you brought me out
I'm here to rescue you Sockie
Was the last word you said