Best Anima Poems
I,
woman,
love life, so
I celebrate
every little joy
whether spent with my friends,
family, or just myself!
I follow the Golden Rule, for
kindness guides me; also I’ve learned that
smiling is the universal language!
She rises above a pool of twilight blue,
The water glimmering liquid crystal
Fluid as an oiled navel which brightens her flesh,
That inside pure eyes, mist radiates
On her curve, and frost trickles heavily across
Dampened lips …blending with manly scent.
A gush shudders at the rhythm of her depth
While the anima of his raw grace, such kindness
Transforms her outline into a Borealis
Laying on a nightglow of lace and hemp …
Till male and woman become undefined,
Aligned through his surrender to a feminine
Seed , as the water continues bathing them
In the discovery of astral glow… like so,
The sweet vapor within her body rains
------ and his tears
Fall upon her quivering pores,
Honoring the fertile goddess within.
……………………
Anima- “ Every man carries within him
The eternal image of a woman.”—Carl Jung
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Animus/ Anima –Part 1: Anima Contest
Sponsored by Tom Quigley 5/8/2016
Archetypes flash straight from a pack of Tarot cards
anti-terror Jing Jang synthesis with neuro-spiritual precision
implants explosive animation from the deep unknown
like a taro rootstock growing wings to fly with found suspension
Stereotactic stereotypes archetypes semi-circling soothing storm clouds
thunderbolts and enlightening darkness are my enema of anxious anger critique
of the mono-morph collision of the scalpel shadow ‘Prozacian’ nemesis
neology of ‘animusity’ of ‘newfoundlandel’ comprehension
Dialectical complementation rises higher and higher culminates in
ethereal transcendence where collective personal unconscious
presents my animus in wishful thinking and projections as
soft and gentle revel rebel raising entropy in tender conservation to escape from
Dogma categorically demanding artificial classification replacing with dimension
flow and rivers stagnant pools of stream of consciousness evading
sexist fragmentation disenfranchising marginalisation assigning male
and female emasculated o-variation where seminal origin implantation
Precedes nurture socialised indoctrination assignment of celibate promiscuity
My animus refuses to accept in emotional rejection whether Jung and I read
symbols from the same page or not of masques façades and liberated self
where academic artistry split hairs and personality for the premise of debate
I am a rebel and claim no higher lower ground of superior distension
He or she who animates friendly animosity is right and incorrect whatever
common ground belies the provocation I propose but possibly my
presentation of what others mean in kindness is too neutral neuters psyche
While anima and animus illustrate conclude a symbiotic destination
the starting point of this and that left right up above and side by side
is far too circular an argument when we should start not end in union
Male and female are constructions of disparity of power and repression
Archetypes are not therefore I am
11th June 2016
Animus-Anima Part II—Animus – Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
A requiem can faintly be heard
in the springtime breeze
as dandelion's morph from gold
blossoms to a crown of
seeds in downy tufts to begin their
airborne journey to
germinate and recreate with a drive
to survive even the
harshest weather, a plethora of
pesticides, and weeding.
Ah, can not the feminine form be
celebrated in comparison?
As her entourage of suitors lifts her
spirits to soar blissfully
until she establishes that one special
connection that causes
her bloom, that innate ineluctable
calling to mate and procreate.
Though trials, illness, and hardships appear,
future generations ineffably endure
in season's springtime, as love renews life.
May 4, 2016
Animus/Anima--Part 1: Anima - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
Definition of anima:
NOTE: Just for the etymology of the word Anima dear, Connie! Anima, Animal, Animation and so on are words that come for the Greek word "Anemos" which in the Greek philosophy meant the divine wind which filled the universe and which wind "anemos" Man breathed in and became "Alive" animated!
-thank you for this Demetrios.
Note: I may have done this contest all wrong?
I bridged the chasm and entered ambiguous halls
Climbed over barbed fences inside my mind's walls
To glimpse the core of how men and women relate
Among flowering vines behind the garden gate.
Within a flower is both gamete and stigma
As semen to ovary - what an enigma!
Nestled deep in my breast, I hear a sultry voice,
"Which would I be if I'd been given the choice?"
I am content with my life in a single ilk
I give in to the urge to wear lace and silk
A little more mascara and blush on my face
I desire to be a lady with charm and grace
I wear jeans and boots, shorten the length of my hair
But some days high heels are what I choose to wear
Two halves of one heart, beating in rhythmic sync
Twins in one body but both sharing the same link
One set of footprints I leave on a virgin shore
I know who I am, but sometimes yearn for more
I'm searching for what lies behind the waterfall
The answer discovered when I hear my siren call
One foot in each of two very different worlds
Climbing trees like boys with painted nails of a girl
When asked my favorite color, I always say it's blue
But I'm also partial to pinks in pastel shades and hue.
I search my thoughts to see if gendering is mental
Knowing I'm more the damsel, not frail but gentle
When my psyche roars like a lion, I can repress
the savage beast in me when I wear a pretty dress
In kindred thoughts my anima/animas keep in touch
I respect my masculine inflection, but not too much
I don't saunter like a guy. I'm not one of them
My hips sway like a girl, so cherchez la femme.*
*Cherchez la femme is a French phrase which literally means "look for the woman."
To be of nature apart from myself
And find its meaning is threaded from birth
To be male or female, to be one self
As two are one, its strange value or worth
To find there is beauty to pursue
To be male , yet be gentle to comply
And understand empathy has value
To see a feminine world through a male eye
Grounded in confidence of one's skin
Accept each heart felt burden, to forgive
To not think emotion revealed a sin
Allowing sensitivity to live
To grasp we're born from both male and female
To know two form one, on life's weighted scale
contest Anima
4/27/16
Femininity - Anima
Sweet femininity was formed in Eve,
before thrown from the Garden for her sin;
engrained in souls by God, I do believe...
the essence of true womanhood within.
These female traits present themselves in me
through love, emotions, tenderness, and sense
of being led by creativity
in ways that show compassion deep, intense.
Imagination and perception stir
beyond the realm of mere creative art:
sense of aesthetics in all things occur;
a yin and yang of balance must take part.
Maternal instinct lodged within my soul,
the need to comfort with devoted care
my family, as well as to extol
with love, God's earthly creatures everywhere.
Romantic love of sweet and gentle kind
that speaks commitment and fidelity,
with friendship and relatedness combined;
these are the gifts of female traits in me.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Any Poem Written In April 2016
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 07/15/2016
Sandra M. Haight
~8th Place~
Premiere Contest: Animus/Anima--Part 1: Anima
Sponsor: Tom Quigley
Judged: 05/17/2016
This is where black breaks open into bright bleeding feeling
as souls suffer the fire of flesh to enter arena Earth screaming
searching the ether for Adam and Eve's answer to forbidden fever
while angels wear snake skins of war to remember the carnage of this theater
and demons adorn their horns with the rose thorns of newborns,
in the blue garden of aging Eden every breath has a burn, every flame forewarns
denuding knowledge of it's pretenses, unveiling appetites and their prices,
we begin to realize that the Great Mother is a killer as well as a provider for our vices
feeding us the fruits of fortune along with the fate of decay
building our bones, branding the brain, electrifying, crucifying and rectifying our clay,
she communicates, educates and fascinates with looks of lightning and sandy kisses
the Mistress of Lucifer and Christ, she supplies the wood, nails and rain for our wishes,
civilizations rage, rumble and crumble in the judgment of her storms
there's mud and rock for every foot of fury, a cave and castle for all who defy the norms,
in her imperial urn she will cremate your eyes in flames of crude oil
baptise hearts in pools of rose water filtered through eons of soul soil,
her gravity will grind you to the ground where grief grafts prayers from tears,
in the sanskrit of sunrises she will summon songs that give your love ears,
this cradle and cataclysm of her erratic elements is where hearts are born and buried,
Earth, a womb and tomb of ancient bloom, oasis in eternal space where life is carried -
J.A.B.
Despicable is
your soul disgraceful and
worthless is forever
A parasite, attached and fed on blood,
Within the woman he began his growth
As did his hunger and defining form.
And, writhing, flailing in a cushioned sea,
He felt her warmth but could not feel her pain.
When she evicted him he screamed himself.
He found the woman ripe with mother's milk
When he, a helpless weight of hungry flesh
Could only state his need in wordless wail.
He saw the woman as his one way back
To that Edenic womb that pacifies
Without exacting anything from him.
A gawky, fumbling youth--he saw her then
As needed proof for who and what he was--
A hunted hunter, judged by what he caught.
Then, lubricated in the coupling dance
Of life and death, he trembled, numb and spent,
Unsure of anything but repetition.
He saw the woman as the looming lure,
An addict's fix, another hungry other,
Devouring worlds to justify existence.
He saw how unity, a moment given
In ecstasy of two becoming one
Could not make jealous any timeless god.
And, too, he saw her as a missing piece
Of puzzles of the image of himself,
As something joining isolated themes.
It will not do to ask where his sight failed.
He saw within the hurts of who he was.
His cruelest lies were those he needed most.
Paranormal visions of flying unicorns
with wild and supreme handsomeness,
give a boost to my conscious animus...
asserting my manhood in every sense.
Then anima makes her appearance,
and dreams change color and shape;
the feminine aspect of sensibility
transforms my ego once so untamed,
so fearless of phantoms that cringed.
I shiver more than an helpless
woman who covers her hears
not to hear their frightful litany.
My perception of actual things
becomes more alluring than fancy;
I lose the sense of hard feelings...
as fantasy offers me a drink of oblivion,
and makes me explore a rendition
of what is contrary to my masculinity.
I carry an effeminate soul, yearning for ladylike answers in the night.
I carry the reason to be whole, learning delight comes within my fight.
I carry the baggage you stole, turning my sight from a womanly right.
I carry on my head a bowl, swerving away in spite of my feminine insight.
Somewhere between young lady-hood and maidenly I found a bag of blocks,
I was tender and delicate like rose petals falling below onto the rocks.
I fell in love with a gentleman who turned my entire life upside down,
he fell in love with a girly girl who knew he always wanted her around.
My sensitivity and worldly class brought sadness into my loving heart,
the second I heard it beating fast I knew my soul would fall apart.
Deep inside my femininity I held a deep arousing for my womanly senses,
I knew that one day I’d break from the heavy heart for all my offenses.
Even though my womanish needs keep me falling on my knees,
my thought prevails and the garden’s light is all my tender heart sees.
My eyes are set on the east while my feet keep walking to the west,
I guess that’s the part of a woman who always tries to look her best.
Sincerity and empathy are sleeping in the core of my essence,
while people pleasing and the need to be happy taught me many lessons.
I carry a perfect smile, while my sorrow runs deeply inside.
I carry the laundry pile, as my tomorrow’s are wanting to hide.
I carry a simple style, as I borrow dreams walking in perfect stride.
I carry a small nail file, as I wallow away to the stream I have cried.
Contest Name: Animus-Anima--Part 1: Anima
Date Written: May 13, 2016
Date Contest Finalized: May 17, 2016
For the contest, Second Chance 4, Sponsor, Broken Wings
Becoming one with this watercolor painting
of butterflies and the sunrise
Stepping out of my bedroom and onto the canvas
Touching baby blue powdered skies
Violet, lilac, orchid majesty
three purple hills across the horizon
And rising just above
Good morning blazing butterscotch sun
Can't believe I'm standing below in the meadow
Emerald grass so thick it cushions bare toes
Dozens of butterflies aflutter, welcoming me in
wings of translucent delicate petals and bows
Breaking out of my cocoon, is like a rebirth
Arms now adorned with sheer taffy hued butterfly wings
They appear to glisten as honey sunrise shines through
I feel so free flying with the other winged things
Below the painting my orange tabby jumps and swats
trying to capture me from these pastel hills and skies
Don't you worry my pet, I'll return to the bedroom soon
But for now I'm at one with butterflies and the sunrise
5/1/16
what to do for spilt blood,
naught else but to write,
urgently before it dries,
dies, these words,
would produce little affect,
had they been vein written,
draw red out from the surface,
blue or black,
as stilled waters they run,
deeper, drowning in depths opaque,
ink this is my blood,
perception and repetition,
the unwelcome servants of time,
suffer through reliving,
side effect of the subjective,
by the cliffs the wind,
toils but never tires,
a stranger to love's bidding,
floating upon the sea like fog,
fall through the frame,
never down but inward,
windows of sight close,
veiled they drift away,
the mind recedes within,
even as imagination projects,
ether dreams keep the gates,
the soul confined insensible,
night and its oceans,
run on from Marathon,
the conscious life provides no cross,
examination another season staring vacant,
these walls can speak,
only my name,
guilt is the nightmare you know,
will come tonight,
premonitions of a past,
that is present,
the faithfulness of a familiar spirit,
history and hypothesis press,
on both sides,
until all condenses to singularity,
a point abstract and finite,
nonexistent,
guilt is an alter no sacrifice satiates
As my eyes united with yours,
Angst of love sailed towards distance shores…
Our energy bonded; intensifying with frenzied hurry…
Embarking loves devotional journey…
My heart open oozing truths bliss…
Embracing your lips with passions sweet kiss…
Vulnerable; I trust soul’s naked purity…
Allowing; receiving your whole unity…
Shall I falter?
Shall I quibble?
Committed at the altar…
Thrusting, past minds confused scribble…
Now!
I re-consummate flowing rhythm motion…
Grateful knowing our loves emotion…
Forever within my seed be placed…
Growing; birthing, being graced…