Best Coiling Poems
Walls of silence hold,
Me prisoner,
The child held within,
Cries out for release.
Relative solitude comforts,
Not the tortured soul,
Inward coiling withdrawing,
Deep inside.
Shedding its outer skins,
Protective
Layer thus preserving its,
Inner being.
Innocents shroud lies in ruins.
Gentle spirit, cast aside wings,
Damaged appendages.
The fallen angel kneels in,
Shame,
Shadows before mankind.
Unanswered prays rest upon,
Deaf ears.
Muted sobs, echo on stilled,
Winds breath.
Hardening to stone, the
Chilled heart
Reflects frozen repose.
Forgotten amongst mine own,
Kindred,
Childhood symbolizes a betrayed,
Victim’s refuge.
Small fragile hands reach out,
Into nothingness,
Hollow space grasping into,
Oblivion.
Chained shackles twist,
Imaginations warped view,
Somber tones cloud troubled,
Thoughts.
Amidst life's trials, I'm aimlessly,
Adrift,
Without any form of stability.
I, alone remain shambles,
Wreckage.
Displaced and damaged,
Beyond repair.
A broken doll thrown away,
By those who should have,
Cared for her the most.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Written: February 5th, 2024
_____________________________________
My heart is leaking blood,
I can view hatred flowing,
from every corner of the planet,
a volcano spewing nasty lava,
their voracious acts are suffocating,
the flower that has yet to bloom.
My heart is leaking blood,
antagonism and skepticism are rife,
a deadly snake is gently coiling,
and choke the breath of mankind,
to further their murderous impulses.
My heart is leaking blood,
since darkness invades the psyche,
steeped in narcissism and xenophobia,
a broken culture has misled people,
into thinking differently over faith,
both ethnicity and attire face a threat,
In self-interest and as an adversary.
My heart is leaking blood,
a soul-to-mind debate has ceased,
lurking by avarice and false tenets,
for the eminent aims of foes,
cultures will spread,
as history has predicted.
My heart is leaking blood,
In reply to the cruelty and abuse,
executed upon the cult's people,
despite being freed from rivals,
but have we freed our minds?
My heart is leaking blood,
to ignore these savage fringes,
who has infiltrated minds?
eating away the distinctive,
need mind cleansing before locations,
restored successfully,
everyone must be a self-reformer,
continually striving to be a dear person,
than they were before.
the light within will always guide you;
all you must do is listen and follow.
ASP OF GRIEF
She buries her head upon this asp of grief —
soft with reptilian fangs, hard with poison.
Her covetous husband lies upon the Nile’s reef.
She holds her abdomen in her arms - his son.
with lunar belly...
the shape of her husband’s seed
...a fateful eclipse
The pit with its bone-chilling cold, hisses with hatchlings,
dreaming of spoiled seeds and seas with a vortex,
coiling around ships. A queen’s lips burn red, yearning for her king.
An abandoned wreck will not lay eyes upon his baby’s sex.
insanity’s kiss...
eyes burn with crimson lipstick
...unrepentant flames
She plays with sticks and desire, enticing asps of despair —
gorges with vampiric teeth. She embraces their mock
and likewise teases, beckons and pleads for death so fair.
Like a breeze about her ankles snakes snip her royal purple frock.
entanglement frays...
dyed purple threads unravel
...rigor mortis strikes
His candle ensign in the dark, a resurrected hero of vanity.
The light flickers with feet in the sand, footprints at lover’s leap.
His profile in death’s shadow, his purple passion of insanity —
laughter litters this carnivorous cave where ashes of dust heap.
alluring ashes...
Salome’s serpentine dance
...Cleopatra’s veils
The sound of a knife being sharpened, his sword with venom drawn,
leaps upon his self-righteous chest, a single blade’s deep penetration.
No handsomer lover, thighs of steel, tanned and craven brawn.
He lost his rapturous beauty bright and fleeting, weeds of veneration.
bilious-amber
mixes with his crimson blade
— a suicide pact
4/28/2018
It is not fair, it is not just,
That you have things that I don't!
Do I suffer with envy and jealousy,
Coiling like a noose in my chest?
Or do I strive to improve myself?
Or do I accept you as you are,
Or love me for who I am?
Should I detest our differing destinies,
Or must I strive to enhance my stance?
Should I seek your praise or scorn,
Or must I be happy and calm?
I think I am the master of my fate,
Loving myself for who I am...?
But who am I, but a reflection of you,
A mirror of your virtues and flaws?
Admire or abhor?
Accept you, as you are,
Or love myself for who I am?
Wait—what makes you luckier?
When life's a gamble of cards and chance?
Should I grieve your destiny or mine,
Or must I strive to move my groove?
You are the image of my soul,
Reflecting light and dark.
Should I admire your charm or… loathe your faults,
Or must I cherish you as you are?
I should be the master of my fate,
Loving myself for who I am.
Should I seek your praise or scorn,
Or must I be happy and calm?
Your world stretches like a sun-drenched meadow,
While mine feels like a cramped, dimly lit room.
While I grasp a mere crumb,
Scales teetering, balance trembling.
Do I wallow in spite and self-pity?
Do I envy you, my perceived foe?
Blame the hand I'm dealt,
Crave your approval, loathe your scorn?
You have the sun, I have the moon,
This disparity throws me into a state of…
Despair threatening to swallow me whole,
Pulling me into its icy depths.
Envy you as a formidable adversary?
Chase your allure of glory or scandalous shame,
Curse your lot or perhaps my name,
Crave your radiant smile or icy chill frown?
What makes you luckier than me?
Life's a gamble of destiny and decree,
Drown in green-eyed sorrow?
I Should, I SHould, I SHOULD… I Must, I MUst, I MUST…
…Perhaps…
Just Do!
Navigate my inner world,
Chart my own course, set sail,
Embrace my authentic self.
Today, I choose to cherish us both for who we are.
Towards a future yet unwritten.
I leave the sun-dappled autumn sidewalk, entering the office
The empty chair there lingers.
dark tendrils coiling in my mind—
my blind rage pleading for quiet healing.
flashbacks clash like striking thunder
opening buried treasures of truth.
and in that final brand searing cry
My heart reborn, mindlessly adrift in spectral mist.
I gladly depart as sleet glazes, streets so slick…..
Upon shy reach,
His fingers touch mine—
Quickly though, they move away from me…
I bite his lips,
Crushing his coiling coy
And snatch his hands back onto me
I am a cobra…
I dance to the beat of his anxious worship
"That Place"
In that place where you were abandoned,
that place, they never thought, you’d come back from,
in that place where it is believed nothing grows
in the long night’s tortured darkness, deep down, well,
a spark lit something quite quiet, far removed and forgotten,
and now it grows rapidly, coiling inside,
snaking sharp-edged like mother’s tongue root
it transmits something alive, something like love,
its veins drawing back in again a loquacious life,
the moisture from tears, a necessary nourishment
from the lake of disbelief, betrayal, trauma and grief,
a bless'ed blooming in disguise,
the succulent luscious life those all important tears gift;
what spreads from the darkness and its erratic reach,
calling into it all embers of ethereal light? Now ultra-lit,
some revolutionary reincarnation arrives back from the dead,
it soaks the unseen light up greedily, for it is extraordinarily hungry,
to taste if but just a drop of sunshine in the glory of forever and ever,
this is what it dreams when it sleeps;
after the amen, hibernation,
it grows and it spreads robust, rigorous (not necessarily), yet,
like a beautiful irregular disease, there is no turning back
once the light kisses it and it has a taste for life,
it goes looking for some kinder heaven;
yes, this is accurate, I do believe -
from nothing something blooms
from nothing, the arrival, awake,
life lessons learned,
what is poor, and what is rich,
what is true and untrue
Candide Diderot. '24
In the dreary tune of a city's groan,
when streets escape the raging claws
of haggard breaths, a line of stars blink
trading some warmth with human arms...
beyond sighing notes the dusk possesses,
there are more wrists handcuffed on tainted
steel of unjust labor for children and women
who toil beyond midnight hours.
A single violin strain bites the screeches
of grief and pain, of humanity rendered
in ruins wrapped in tattered gauze: outlines
of freezing shapes coiling in fetal postures,
and they swallow a victim's blood, wondering,
if the god of freedom star can restore
power of life where mangled lungs
cry in despise.
Yet, the candle burns inside their hearts
to feed dire hunger of jailed souls
as the will to plod an inner odyssey blazes,
searching for some need to give this slavery
a voice: that birthright of choice
ordained by one divine, universal law...
the kind that fires the oneness of all mornings.
.............................
Cyndi MacMillan's I Can't Breathe... Contest
by nette onclaud
~ Currently, the Human Rights of many women
and children are violated in Asia.
There are women who are victims of sexual exploitation
under military dictatorship, and children who become
involved in human trafficking and are forced to work.
~http://hrn.or.jp/eng/g-activity/activista/
Today I could feel only burning salty tears of sadness
Alone as I walked slowly along the beach pondering
Sweet memories pervading my inner psyche deeply
With coiling inside gasps of heavy breathless moans
Sweetest honey holding precious memories so real
Faraway looking into the sun setting warm—a utopia
As a special friendship was born under a sweet kiss
While conjuring true a most incredible dream shone
Visions flashback into far distant everlasting thoughts
Full of smiles adoringly walking along the golden sands
Feelings with joy as magical tunes are so divinely sung
As large waves crash over and over in the mind’s eye
True emotions burning with love stays forever so pure
As tears fall upon the sand symbolizing a rapid change
In realizing your very touch means and meant so much
As salted heart burning flames stir unquenchable fires
You who burns inside this candle lost in your very space
Darling the happiest day of my life came on our meeting
As I found you fortified in a castle of one mystic dream
As whispers cast over the warm sea finding a true love
Carnations lovely crowning petals of a most regal life with
Beauty whose golden visage lights faraway sunsets so real
While smiling gently and graciously before her—Our Queen
Who seeks with tears and toil to restore our Paradise Lost
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (June 6, 2015)
(Unrhymed Quatrain)
SHALL WE DANCE
Shall we dance, as two snakes encircling one another,
A bite to the strike, whom draws the first blood of
Passions bitter poison.
Venomous vipers, engaged in a twisted game of hidden desires,
Shielded by golden bands of confinements vows of promise,
Yet yielding under the guise of the serpent’s folk tongue.
Reptilian lovers Intertwining, beneath the light rays of the
Elliptical moons illumination, deceiver’s side slithering,
The truth of reality’s harsh dawning to come.
Desert tempest creatures, crushed under the swelling
Sand storms of destiny, rising in the winds rip tidal shift
Of exotic’s throngs of passion, then dashed upon the
Rocks of calamity’s destructive force.
Behold the skins of shame, we’ve shed in this our lost
Garden of paradise called Eden, as we descend limb
By limb, unraveling, retanggling, in a mutual enticement’s
Partaking of the unripen fruit, in this the harvested
Orchard of deceit, and lies of pleasure spoils.
Rattling’s bad to the bone species, are these
Deceiver’s dwelling under the moonlight,
Loves vanquished, by passions burnt embers
Of lusts cold blooded flame.
Veracity’s fiercest retile's in mortal combat
With their human hearts, or their raw physical
Basic instincts, the animal within themselves,
The beast of desire, exposing the coiling in raptures
After glow of the exotic.
In the emerald eyes of the snakes flashing, these
Are the transfixed, paralyzed prisoners of loves
Passionate vipers, the cursed of the forbidden.
Poisons intoxicated figures, silhouetted in the red
Moons seduction zone, he the hooded king cobra,
And I his empress taipan of the orient.
Glittering do our scales of temptation, damnation,
Oh but to die in this incoilment’s display of eternal
Abandonment, a climatic apex of poisonous predators,
Ripping, tarring at their bare exposed fleshes
Atonement, unsheived are these carnivores
Of passion.
Shall we dance, as two snakes encircling one another,
A bite to the strike, whom draws the first blood
Of passions bitter poison.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
My Gallery
In upper part of my body
A cognitive bell rings
From a dial-up connection
of live wires
The modem is working just
To repeatedly provide
the facsimile of
Barren and bald paths
Inner lumbering of daily freight
Coiling, clutching upward
There is no vivacity
The vital force has parasited
How I inhale life?
My days and nights are bolted
Inside a brain cell,
My voice has held back
It lays a plan to brawl my soul
Residing in my own skull
Dictates notes imitating my tone
I couldn’t disintegrate my recall
As my shadow has left me
There remains Just I, me and myself,
Why is my brain a black hole?
Could it not be a universe?
Of a constellation of migraine, tablets
Syringe, backache and insomnia
Dream has become a dead pattern
As worn out as fossil led glow
Everything has become identical
Except the weight of consequence
That has variations of endurance
As I go through perdition
My imbalance will be rectified
Hang my art on the wall
As after allotted time
My gallery will end
Just half a meter away is this semi-covered female
so fertile for a score of trees to grow on
smooth and soft, curvy and oily
a rich landscape for my longings to become playful penguins.
Her body’s map has been possessed by my hunger
and a split second is too long for our disappearance from door to bed
as the tiles beat my wardrobe to claim the auction of our flying clothes.
Fierce and aggressive, every act is industrialized for pain to taste sweet
a little harm is not unhealthy, let a smile show from the thorn’s tip
biting but patting softly; modesty, the only crime
pinning down and licking through, respect, out of bound
sharp pinching and slow tickling; legality is completely unwanted
summing up an erotic wrestling as intimate as the coiling of wires.
Tightly cornered ‘V’ in front, roundly curved ‘W’ behind
I gradually rise erectly, facing the clouds from under
to honour this beautiful respect towards the pattern of the english alphabets.
Muscles gliding over muscles
joints clicking in a uniform rhythm
produced fluids, keeping both souls sticky
love on stage and now in full display.
Sounds from raging hearts, dancing furniture, bullied foam
all in one competitive race.
Skins on fire for desires to completely burn
so hard, gets inside so wet;
everything else is then subjected to a bouncing and stretching symphony.
It is nothing but refreshing
to abuse our privacy and change the colours of its secrecy;
mourn all night my love and let our instincts ride this luxurious yacht.
Published: 6/25/2020
For the Sensuality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Placement: 2nd (7/1/2020)
……Somewhere a lone survivor of a plane crash
A man of sound and reason
standing tall and proud.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to break out.
Delusions like a serpent,
coiling in his brain,
Paranoia like a venom,
oozing from his core.
Twisting truth and logic,
driving him insane.
The world a hostile army,
waging endless war.
Dissociation like a vise,
squeezing his soul tight,
A mirror of identity,
shattered into shards.
Lost within the maze,
his selfhood out of sight.
The pieces of his being,
scattered near and far.
Psychosis like a demon,
dancing in his mind,
The music of madness,
playing its eerie song.
Illusions like a spider,
weaving webs to bind.
As his grip on sanity,
was slowly being wronged.
Not working…..
He found a radio, a possible voice of hope and light.
…..Working
Then a change of course,
a turn of fate’s design,
A mind once plunged in madness,
now rising to the fight.
From blackness to brightness,
a force of hope divine.
An ascent from affliction,
a story of great might.
As his grip on sanity was
slowly being restored,
Illusions like a spider
weaving webs to break.
The music of madness
playing its final chord.
Psychosis like a demon
dancing in his wake.
The pieces of his being
scattered near and far,
Lost within the maze his
selfhood comes to light.
A mirror of identity
shattered into stars.
Dissociation like a vise
squeezing his soul bright.
The world a hostile army
waging endless peace.
Twisting truth and logic
driving him to sane.
Paranoia like a venom
oozing from his fleece.
Delusions like a serpent
coiling in his mane.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to fade out.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt?
A man of sound and reason standing tall and proud?
A lone survivor of a plane crash……
Canvas, calm, grinning. . .blank
Had words screamed, scarecrows trapped on the poles of their creators,
Had words formed psalms that barricaded the strongholds of the heart,
Divine despair would desperately take hold again,
Embellishing the muse
To smile, the impassive smile. . .confuse
Enraptured by your tail,
Coiling, boiling in the hot and hungry sun
The eyes, clouded, caught in a moment of inexorable suffering
Death glistening in the confirmation of tears and groans,
Shading the dialogue that never surfaces
Justice in pale focus. . .constant, still held in out-of-the-blue faith
Please,
Do not allow your perspectives to dull
Waiting so long, I deafened the cries
The very cries I so blindly expressed. . .
Words etching existences imagined
I want you to take the hand of uncertainty
For as I have, I forever feel the tremors that have given me shape
Those very hands create what you dream,
And not what you fear
Take that hand,
Squeeze it tightly
I promise you, once you touch. . .I will never let you go
For I love you,
Oh, unexplained hold. . .
Help me escape the newborn deaths of today
Teach me how to step over the carcasses of calamity
Where the innocent die to inspire the remaining
Learn how to lead me into the lights of your eyes
Please,
Give me your beautiful hand,
I will take you to places you will never understand
And it will be okay
Because where I go,
The scarecrows roam with the roaring ravens
Making music with the pulse of their wings
With the sharp click of their beaks
Where I go,
Psalms of serenity's back way make love with impending day,
Spinning despair into the golden hairs of suspended May
Where I go,
innocent flowers freely giggle arrays of life
And his tail whips mightily,
His black velvet purrs arousing breaths of caramel verisimilitude
Where we stay,
In the forever grip of the trust you and I made,
Justice is pure water,
Cool and refreshing. . .ever smiling
Please,
My love, please
Hold onto this world with me
Give me your needs that I need. . .
And I promise perspective will prosper
The canvas, one blank, filled with detailed destiny of Color Surety
October 19th, 2014
A stone's cast ----
but what great arm has set about the motion?
was not the first mother reared? ----
her children on the smiles of angels?
her womb filled with devotional design;
to flourish to some end with hope in God's motivation?
..... back to the (garden), with this posy and its ink near end,
and its quill dipped still in mystique;
yet I did not come (here) by chance,
nor was my mother born from some heathen improbability,
there can come no answers in doubt;
for fear of the wolves the woods are too shadowed
and loiter most grimly,
always death on the wind....
I shall not doubt the design in the weave the Great Artist
hath woven, and what magic touch with the world's eye in mind;
only the dullard doubts the infinite graces in the reflecting pool,
and the skeptic accursed without revelation -----
his own child but water, flesh and bone
and the cold earth but waits for him,
in the bellies of fattened worms;
when death's breath whispers and curls and furls
as serpent wisp-mists, coiling to mortal truth ----
he shall cling to God and eternity!
Have I died a thousand deaths?
walked the cool of earth ere?
tasted of the sweet nectar of love,
and the bounties beyond death?
That we will to live, and climb to some end,
the jagged-precipice, and toil to experience
and seek the Final Mighty Mount ----
is our great testimony to eternity;
To leave our fingerprint upon the world,
and slip into paradise as a welcomed wind 'neath its door.....