Sweet little darling
Sipping tea from her cup
Deep thoughts on her rocking chair
Nose stuck in a Dickinson book
Style in her fingertips
Turning page after page
Wrapped up in forever
Coddling lukewarm memories
Counting grandchildren and lost ones
Guided by an inward candle
Unforgettable and refreshing
She blatantly ignored the gun shots in the forest of her mind
She stumbled across the hidden bridge squeezing a bottle of time
She carried a picture of temptations with her lips high and dry
She drank from the inkwell of resistance to justify her words
She dropped to her tattered knees shouting “Forgive me”
She fumbled for a candle to see her shadows in the dark
She carved out a statue to remind her of her past
She spoke to the flames of the king in a delicate language
She leaned on the shoulders that could carry her forever more
She stared into the mirror for hours recognizing her flaws
I read this book in paperback. This is a unsolicited review.
What I Loved:
Braeden Michaels is another one of my favorite poets. He is a master at creating imagery with his varied and vivid lines. Somehow he combines these images to create a scene and that scene, if we allow it, gives us a view deeper into our own humanity.
He writes with such depth and his lines make you really think about who we are as humans and our place in this world, our emotions, and our different perspectives. I find that I can read nearly every piece over and over, each time walking away with more meaning than the time before.
I also appreciate his creativity and his titles are dynamite. Things like “Coughing Up a Smirk”, “Psychobabble”, “Tangled Snowflake”, “Marmalade Boots”, and “The Blush Vertebrae”… how does he come up with these names??
I didn’t find a single grammatical error or misspelling and that made me very happy (because if you know me at all, it is that those are pet-peeves of mine). Also, the paperback quality was very good. A nice size in your hand, great overall length, and the front cover art for me was great.
What I Didn’t:
I honestly have nothing negative to say about this book. It now happily sits on my shelf to be read again and again.
My Overall Score:
5 stars – This book is exactly what I want from a book of poetry. Excellent length, quality writing, professional and engaging cover. Worth every penny and minute invested.
Highly recommended for those who enjoy unique modern poetry that makes you think and feel.
Check out where “The Raven’s Poison” is available! The review can be found on Amazon.
I drank rain from a malevolent cup
and I couldn’t touch the terror in the wind
I distinctly felt the extinction in the air
and the intruders inside me left fingerprints
I anticipated the rumblings, jitters, and
the despair to rest in my esophagus
I stood in the fog seven miles away from
the shadows and the vile from the hill
I swallowed ignorance with a blend of
dismay, concern and suspicion
I fell before the behemoth’s sins and
I stared at the tarnished wisdom
I inhaled the scent of darkness
and I could feel the breeze of agony
I witnessed my logic, quirks, and talking
Skeleton disappear into the clouds
I was consumed by crisis oriented faith,
misplaced psychology, and charades
I stared at the dementia with my lip
quivering and with the aftertaste of sorrow
I stood six feet apart from the quicksand
and the rattle swimming in the sea of chaos
I severed the gospel from my identity
and I muttered words of inadequacy
I stepped on the carousel of deception
and shrugged off human decency
I became one with the vile from the hill
and detested the color of my pupils
I was obsessed by the anxiety and the
venom in my stomach turned into stone
I was crushed by my weaknesses
and the stench of loneliness dispersed
I devoured the indecisions, complexity,
and the tears in my eyes evaporated
I despised the grave of my haunting past
and ignored the road to the sunrise
A part of me is mangled
A part of me is incarcerated
A part of me has no meaning
A part of me is ruptured
A part of me is poisonous
A part of me has fragments
A part of me is dismembered
A part of me is misrepresented
A part of me has a disease
A part of me is severed
A part of me is slivered
A part of me has lived in a smog
A part of me is a siren
A part of me is annilihated
A part of me has lost color
A part of me is ruptured
A part of me is an invisible soul
A part of me has died on Mangled Iron Lane
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I am left with an odd sense of warmth after reading “The Raven’s Poison”, Collected Poems, by Braeden Michaels. Each poem flows beautifully into the next and the sections are well executed. Michaels has a brilliant ability to invoke each of your senses with his thought provoking words. His creative mind keeps you engaged and enthralled throughout the entire book. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this collection. I am enthusiastic about future published work from this writer.
She’s dressed in compromise
with a splash of anaesthesia
Lost in the scars
She’s wreaking ruins
with a touch of benevolence
Tangled up in a mess
She’s covered up in scotch
with a hint of animalism
Disoriented in the haze
She’s cleansed in affection
with a pinch of pandemonium
Invisible to the
She’s laced in anarchy
with a shot of jangle and bedlam
Slipping in oblivion
She’s cauterizing affection
with roses in her palms
Scatterbrained colors
Trembling demographics
Stretched out fuzzy landscapes
Distorted mountains clench
Sounds desensitized and flutter
A mangled government howls
Ministers pleading with statues
Arguments swing from branch
to branch like a diabolical monkey
Sentiments sealed in a box
Hungover debates swallowing
OxyContin and sleeping pills
Insomniacs chatting with graffiti
between Sinister Lane and 5th Street
Cigarette smoke flies like a bird
and shadows dance with loneliness
Laughter turns stale like a cracker
Cynics and pessimists fall in love
Innocence is submerged in flames
A place of cracks and haze
Wanderers and drifters circle
Under her breath she uttered “Life is as beautiful as a forehead kiss”
Joy dances like a ballerina on her spellbinding tongue
She squeezed tea parties with her doll Delilah with her artistry
Quietly adoring her childhood books on the shelf from the tallest to the shortest
She painted love with the ocean with her steady hand on her prized canvas
Gazing at her innocent imagination
Memorized the pattern and pastel colors of her quilt
In a whisper she mumbled “Beauty is inside, not in the eye of the beholder”
Climbing inside her mellow perception
She glided across the beige carpet with an ornament of a smile
A sphere filled with crayons, lite bright, easy bake oven, and ballroom dresses
Cherishing the extraordinary recollection,
Embracing the collage of photographs in her heart
Drops fall to the floor as she glances at a hollow room on Wildfire Lane
She slips on theological rhetoric
She hides behind the voodoo stuck to her silent tongue
Wearing her vixen like dress
She acquired accolades and accommodations from the saliva of the burnt orange wolf
She spoke the language of love in riddles and teenage rhymes
Wearing her Madusa like pearls
She mishandled truth and washed down a liter of half bitten lies
She threw away fortunes and laughed at others misfortunes
Wearing her witchcraft perfume
She roared liked the bitch she was and ignored the crowd who carried her on a Persian rug
Wearing her battle ax over her shoulder
I woke up next to a vulture with a
dog bone chain around her neck
Staring at me with vile
I woke up next to a flame that wrapped
her sins around my waist
Staring at me with corruption
I woke up next to a blood sucking leach
that smirked with a lush appetite
Staring at me with disdain
I woke up next to a villain made up
of clay hiding the weapons
Staring at me with a plan
I woke up next to a furious soul
that was shaken from discomfort
Staring at me with delight
I woke up next to a bitten snake
that slithers through the camouflage
Staring at me with vengeance
Vigorously illuminating
She’s overworked
Quite compelling
She’s overtired
Completely potent
She’s giving
Magically robust
She’s asleep on the couch at 1AM
Forever lovely
She’s precious
Make up less
She’s still captivating
Deserves everything
She deserves a forehead kiss
I found you…
Unraveled and detoxing from the vibrations. I saw lies injected into your shriveled up sun. I saw you nauseas from the sight of the blood dripping from the roses. I saw a self indulging massacre spin. I walked away from your propellers. I saw the crash from a distance in slow motion. Fixated and obsessed with the numbness. I witnessed you crawling through the trenches. I saw you fight with your own scars. I saw you plead with your skeptic past. I saw you disappear into the white light.
Storm of Ink 