Best Estimation Poems


Premium Member Gettysburg

Walk does he not the specter of death, 
His saith raised high, even he himself has had
Enough killing, on the battlefield of Gettysburg,
Satan screams, stop sons of men, truly war
Is hell on earth.
Time's spiritual voices cry out, as the wind
Blows through the tall over grow grasses,
Of this Pennsylvanian State park.
Injured spirits, roam as phantom soldiers,
Seeking salvation's reprieves preservation, 
From their damnation.
On the Devil's Den reddened rock, centuries
Still stand guard, knelling sharp shooters,
Fire at will, as the drummers beat, at rhythm’s
Death march.
Gun powers burnt smell fills the air, 
As the loud canons echo in the distance,
Mayhem's discord has left destruction's
Bloodshed, these numbers estimation 
Of flesh and bone, are guessed yet it's
Resolution unknown.
Blown are the horns of Calvary’s call,
Reinforcement’s sacred hesitating for aid,
But none come to it's deadening's sounding.
Mourn do the orphan's of war, in their fathers
Name, so they do weep in sorrow remembrance.
A war-ravaged companion, lead by freedom
Seekers, the end to release bondage’s salves,
Stain our great country with it's own blood.
Brother against brother, two flags of belief 
Striking each other, north vs the south,
Behold it was the American Civil War.
A revolutionary uprising of idealism,
That all man have the right to be free,
And live without the chains of oppression.
It is in this haunted place, at cemetery ridge,
That the final battle lines are marked in 
Bloods deadliest charge ahead.
Many souls still serve here, never shall
They know the light of peace.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: estimation, america, history, imagery, inspirational,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Tilted Dahlias --The Artist

The sage green wall had worn a blank look
until, slightly askew, with a tilt to the left
dangling helplessly, without a complaint 
is the pride of an artist, who lacked all constraints.

He dipped into his paints with no sense of restriction 
hung it in place without hesitation
giving the viewer a crick of the neck.

It hangs precariously, for an eager assessment
without circumspection, neither yes's or no's...
No hemming or hawing just helter and skelter
Instead, a take me or leave me,... is the quick estimation
Conforming was no issue, just pure bold assumption

Excitement exploded from two eager hands
that thrust it in place, with assured restless haste,
hammered a nail with pride and conviction
and planted it there,  with pure ardent fervor

Sharing a warmth of a seasonal decade....
this amateurish, yet delightful landscaped intrusion
sings in the sunshine, and smelling of springtime
shouting with color, and sprinkled with lavender
flavored with turpentine, and oil-painted rainbows

In the lower left corner, is an array of dahlias,
bursting with crimson, never changing or fading
never thirsty for water,
barren of a single, silent, dried up weed
and free of decay, dismay or mold

The amber was gold, the umber was bold, 
          rust to rust, dust to dust......ash to ash

With him he took all the pride that he found
           ...still holding the brush stroke of a satisfied smile 


___________________________________
For Anthony's Contest: Favorite Artist
Dedicated to someone special in my life  R.I.P.
4/16/14  Revised for Anthony's Contest
Categories: estimation, art,
Form: Free verse

Unbalanced Hypocrisy


Sell the kinetic death metal,
see the swivel profits 
zooming to the stratosphere
Bloody schoolyard body count
is the cost of doing armed ant-farm business
Collateral damage is the soulless audit estimation
Bottom feeders at the algae low end of the food chain,
eat shell casing scraps
tossed by an unbalanced, warfare Great White nation — 
Shark DNA with a ravenous capitalist avarice attitude,
saying: Keep silent minnow sheep,
don’t be fearful of the palpable lead ricochet sensation  
As the automatic spark-bark dog manufacturers
howl that the Second Amendment is your security salvation
They constantly belch 
that only the mentally ill 
unwisely use their adult toys to murder-kill
While they lobby their pet politicians
to bullet execute any national health care bill
Such a vomit reminder 
of regurgitated vile hypocrisy
We’re always told 
that only the mentally sick 
create the carnage from guns
As the death metal lap dog politicians
close more mental institutions
by not providing government funds
Unbalanced hypocrisy ...
lunatic leadership
of high place dark principalities
Green-covered gold lust of Roman greed proportion
guides their immoral decision-making
And the blood flowing in the Republic streets,
those Terminator weapons 
will pump-action human life keep taking
Categories: estimation, corruption, death, grief, political,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Primordial Soup

It took some heavy digging and a lot of clever research.
But scientists have now explained in full detail how evolution works.
Finally it all comes together after much debate and so much time.
(To appeal to the little 'uns they even told it in rhyme).
"And from the mud-baths of primordial soup we came to be.
Rising from the currents of a ginormous boiling sea.
Once things cooled down a bit, leaving cells with room to breath,
things developed quite gradually,
as each individual body part became part of the team."
The Mouth said to the Ear:
You there! Get your Butt over here!
What the Mouth didn't yet know, however,
was that that the Butt was still processing
in some foul smelling black ether.
(Just ask Nose and he'll tell you clear as day,
that smell was nothing short of risque.)
Mouth's voice was very muffled you see,
lacking the Ear's wondrous ability
to take in sound.
You could see it for yourself if you wanted too
(still Eyeball was no where to be found).
Somewhere along the road the Head came rolling down.
He had great determination in his jaunt,
though those big gaping eye-holes were sure to haunt.
And after a two million year nap,
at long last, the Elbow and Knee Cap
came oozing their way from the horrid soup.
Once attached to Mouth and Vocal Chord, they beamed,
"Pee-YOU that reeks, if Stomach were here I'd surely turn green.
One sure develops an appetite after a billion year fast.
If someone doesn't throw me some grub I don't think I'll last!"
After such great struggle there was still so much to be done
Feet and Legs were still in a hot sweaty run
trying for a thousand years at least to find Crotch and Torso
(To make matters worse they needed Esophagus to get re-hydrated also!).
But after all that I think you will find the struggle worth it.
What great things can happen when we're all so close knit.
We're not perfect yet, as you can see, evolution is a work in progress.
Things could always improve, it just takes time to process.
One fellow man of science inquired a rough estimation
of just how long it would take to grow wings
(some bickering was involved, due to his ridiculous proposition).
The real concern is however being totally ignored,
of which I think you will be completely appalled.
It will probably take another 17 billion years,
at least, to get the Brain installed.
Categories: estimation, humorous, philosophy,
Form: Light Verse

Premium Member For Kerri and April

A cacophony of cheers
Sand sprays like fireworks
From feet, hands, ball, hair.
Four women, two-a-side,
In a battle for the ages.

A motion of fluidity and a
Knowledge brought forth
From years in the fray.
Sun, rain, the elements,
Just more adversaries

In a long procession of
Combatants put asunder
By their clear dominance
Of a gritty game of volleys.
The Americans had few

Times met with struggle
Along their long journey
Toward the gilded yellow
Badge of Olympic honor,
But this night the glint in

The eye, the coordinate
Movements of limbs and
Lengths and deliberations,
The perfection of intents
And wiles and exertions,

Would not birth triumph,
But instead place a bitter
Pill flat on their tongues.
But such is the bare truth
Of warfare, and such is

The coming of wisdom ...
For without that sour taste
And constricting swallow,
We have no estimation
Of the finer, sweeter things

That the battlements of
Life hold within their walls.
Gold knows no favorite,
Nor does it gleam in the
Eyes of the fortunate only.

Momentum true is the key
And this night it flowed
For the sake of those
Whose feet knew this
Beach as their own ...

Who felt their home and
Peoples and affinities all
In the grainy coursing of
Cold granules underfoot,
And sometimes, when

The heart has the peace
Of its OWN around it, that's
All the difference needed.
But character outshines
The most precious ores,

And in that bold and true
Respect, our wonderfully
Beautiful and courageous
Girls of Stars and Stripes,
Shall ALWAYS stand at

The top of the podium,
And the anthem of our
Appreciation and pride
Will always play in their
Ears ...

We love you, Kerri
Walsh Jennings and April
Ross, and you are, without
Question or argument,
The very BEST.
Categories: estimation, america, beach, courage, patriotic,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member 'twisted Opinion'

onlooker from far
your scrambled estimation 
devoid of all truth

©140008102013
Categories: estimation, life,
Form: Senryu


Premium Member The Reverends Yacht

I’d extend an invitation
to all in the congregation
through this speech of inspiration
which is quite a compilation
yet I expect no adulation
and no gest of adoration
for in my own estimation
it’s a trifle occupation
clearing out the obfuscation
of a simple predication
o’er the course of this oration
through the rhyme of this dictation

See it’s a feebly built narration,
or an errant adaptation
sitting ‘top a weak foundation
grounded on some old quotation
writ in archaic notation
which seems to bear no strong relation
to the current held fixation
on the poorly built translation
which is more of a mutation
than an actual citation.

Now to give a brief summation
I will fight off the temptation
and my present inclination
to continue this vocation
and I’ll risk your irritation
with this act of abdication
and upset your expectation
by using this line instead
to add a bit of variation
as the only deviation
in my final recitation.

Now please stifle your elation
as I offer resignation
for I’m out of medication
and I fear the obligation
to interpret revelation
meant to spell out your salvation
is to my great consternation
causing meal regurgitation
and worse stomach ulceration
though at best the correlation
is just my imagination.

So I’m taking a vacation
to a tropical location
lost in wild vegetation
where I’ll watch in adoration
those grass skirts in their gyration
and sip drinks of fermentation
to avoid the dehydration 
that always comes by deprivation
or by over-conservation.

If it’s any consolation,
after lots of vaccination
I’ll pursue my destination
through a week of navigation
on a vessel of flotation
as my mode of transportation
and forego all aviation.
So I plead, dear congregation
understand my situation
‘spite my freedom from taxation,
just suppress your indignation
toward my dreams of recreation
though I have no explanation
save this current presentation.

And though there is no valuation
for true acts of consecration,
after much consideration
if you’d show your dedication
with a generous donation,
I could use the insulation.

Amen.
Categories: estimation, corruption, dedication, devotion, paradise,
Form: Monorhyme

Tomorrow's Deviation

Tomorrow is an illusion
It relies on assumption
Of the planet’s rotation
On the seasons’ migration
And the moon’s revolution
On man’s innovation 
And his evolution
For his interpretation
Or insinuation
And theorisation
On Law’s of gravitation
Using invention
And his powers of investigation
And logical deduction
To step into a new dimension

Tomorrow is a delusion
Near fiction
The mind’s naive projection
Ideas in a flight simulation
To an unknown destination
An unsure predetermination
Existing only in the imagination
In faith and inspiration
A trust in Creation
The end and Armageddon
In God and salvation
In hell and eternal damnation
In the atheist’s condemnation
In the calendar’s punctuation
The watch’s precision
And space’s expansion
The diaries memorisation 
A woman’s intuition
A mother’s preparation
Sessions in competition
Promises in dissection

A man’s anticipation
A father’s frustration
About the son’s relation
To a boy he doesn’t care to mention
And how this affects his maturation
His future and direction
His love and affection
And his own stagnation
His failing career progression
His future contemplation
Deserving some consideration
In a 24 hour formulation

Tomorrow is today in suspension
The now in detention
Willpower in dilution
Efforts in relaxation
Laziness in expedition
Creativity in isolation
The soul in prison
The imagination's manipulation

We have planned constructions
And demolitions
Holiday vacations
And our children’s graduations,
But tomorrow’s nomination
Is an unguaranteed estimation
A naive procrastination
A false realisation
An amoral actualisation
To our conclusion
And finalisation
Tomorrow the motivation
The fear of extinction
Of the earth's desertification
The world in motion
A noble notion
The only reason
The leading question
Forever our mission
Tomorrow's aviation
Tomorrow an exploration
Categories: estimation, future, philosophy, , atheist,
Form: Rhyme

Thanks. You Are Souper!

I thought I would just say
Have a Happy Thanksgiving Day!

For all of You Souper people are 
In my estimation, the ones who care.

It is wonderful to have your comments, too
When I write something here for all of you.

The joy of reading your works and words
Goes well beyond the things I've heard.

And in the short time that I have around you
Friendships through words abound, too.

I say that you are the cheeriest bunch
With whom I have never sat down to lunch.

But I'll say a prayer of thanksgiving for all
And hope that the Lord hears my call.

For tomorrow when we remember the good things in life
I'll count all of you in, with a thought none too brief.

With you I feel like I am a true part,
So, I say "Thank You All, from the bottom of my heart".
Categories: estimation, friendship, holiday, on writing
Form: Couplet

The Seeds of Democracy

mine is the most beautiful ruined country on earth
who's favorite sons held knives

knife, wire ... tic tac .. 

mine is the most beautiful ruined country on earth
but the landlords came with their good intentions 
and let the eagles get in 
... even child knows what happens when you let the eagle get in

white eagle

tic tac ... wire, knife

mine is the most beautiful ruined country on earth
yet despite Geneva terms 
they proclaimed what happened 20 years ago as mislead estimation 
leaving us behind, unendingly hemorrhaging

knife, wire ... vukovar, srebrenica

how many of them are still out there
Categories: estimation, childhood,
Form: Free verse

Ode To David

an English Ode 

A shepherd-boy composer sang of hope -
pastoral psalms were first heard by his lambs,
his soothing music helped King Saul to cope,
distressing psalms related rival's scams.
Young David, you respected God as Lord
and recognized that giving thanks is praise.
Recalling God's own mighty triumphs past,
you wrote of vict'ry, friendships with accord;
you shaped forgiveness, faith, your Father's ways.
As king, you wrote of blessings deep and vast.

Oft-quoted, sung and prayed by millions wide
Psalm 23, perhaps the best-known psalm.
And "Bless the Lord, my soul," we've gladly cried,
Psalm 1-0-3 are verses penned to calm.
We lift up praise, "majestic is Thy name,"
to God from both Psalm 8 and 21. 
"Create in me a clean heart, Thou my God," 
writes David when confronted with true shame; 
Psalm 51 recounts how cleansing's done.
King David's psalms, sweet music to applaud.


Taking other's estimation of you, David, as enough justification to write of the biblical King David in your honor.  I know you will miss your friendships here.  May God bless your future plans as only He can.
Categories: estimation, god, music, thank you,
Form: Ode

Women Who Drink and Sex

Women who drink and sex 

It was in Livorno and it was a cold January night when I met her
in a bar- where else does one meet women, in the salvation army?
What she was doing in Livorno beats me as she was an American 
woman far from home, I was there waiting for my ship to come in.
We were both drinkers and felt empathy for one another and when 
the bar closed she came to my hotel. In the morning, I had a shower, 
she was still asleep  woke and asked what I was doing in her room
I told her it was my hotel room she cried; worked for the consulate. 
We had breakfast, but she needed a drink to feel normal. Saw her go
 into a taxi looking like an efficient functionary   going to work, I knew 
she could not keep it up the day of estimation was near, she left 
a hundred dollar bill on my pillow I was both offended and pleased, 
being a low paid seaman, my silence would be absolute. If she wrote
a book about this encounter I will somehow get the blame hinting 
darkly she had been abused by me. But this is not true what the lady
long for is not being able to make love with  abandonment  and blame
 it on the booze.
Categories: estimation, abuse, addiction, adventure, analogy,
Form: Bio

Premium Member Well, I Never

This piece could be, I suppose, a kind of "bucket list", but it's not about regretting all the things I wanted to do in my life and didn't, but, rather, it's about being okay with finally knowing that there just simply isn't/wasn't enough time to do it all. And also, I tend to get a little whimsical from time to time.

Well...
I never played tug-of-war with an elephant
Or kick boxed a kangaroo;
I never arm-wrestled a crocodile
Or won the lottery or built an igloo.
I never went searching for buried treasure
Or gold at the rainbow's end;
I never discovered the fountain of youth
Or had a circus clown for a friend.
I never ran with the bulls in Pamplona
Or croqueted on the lawn of the Taj Mahal;
I never drank wine from a young lady's slipper
Or made love 'neath a waterfall.
I've never zip-lined from the top of Mt. Everest
Or hitchhiked from Nome to Peru,
Or had a long erudite conversation
About how to decide when to use "whom" or "who".
I never played Hamlet, or danced in "Swan Lake",
Or sang opera with Callas or Sills;
I never wrote the great American novel,
And I think, alas, never will.
I never jousted a unicorn
Or read the dictionary from A to Z;
I've not romped in the rain on a plain down in Spain
Or grown a moustache, a beard, or goatee.
I never made money from stocks bought on Wall Street,
I just never could get the knack;
I never walked a tightrope across Royal Gorge
Or swam from Miami to Cuba and back.
I never fought dragons or tilted with giants
Or found a cure for the common cold,
And I've never been able to quite figure out
Just why it is we grow old.

Most of my list is pure fancy, of course,
If I don't do them, I won't feel frustrated.
I can honestly say I've enjoyed growing up,
But in my estimation, growing old's overrated.
Categories: estimation, introspection,
Form: Verse

The Simple Point of Every Trouble

The eastern countries got their problems  
In massive poverty and in huge ignorance 
By and large yet they live in relative peace 
The west has many triumphant points 
In their achievements to show the world 
In their fortunes, science and technology 
Yet they are the part and parcels of each trouble  
The world has ever seen in its own global level 
First it has seen the devastation of humanity 
 In the First World War in such a scale that 
Never had been seen before in entire history 
And in the First World War hidden was the seed 
Of the Second World War and what it brought 
For the entire human civilisation, I think it was 
 Beyond anyone’s estimation or anyone’s thought 
They were the cause and they found the solution 
At the cost of their own fault and felt the urge 
To form a League of Nations or United Nations 
The colour of a piece of coal never goes away 
Whatever you may try, it will remain the same, 
The addiction of domination again brings them 
Another massive wrong when they plant a nation 
In the soil of another nation and this wrong is the root 
Of each and every war and terror in the entire world 
But by these trouble makers of the past and the present 
 This simple point of every trouble is never understood
Categories: estimation, poverty,
Form: Free verse

Cinematography of Chaos

Cinematography of Chaos




                    Cinematic impressions, climatic sort of dream,
                     upgraded to pathetic, idiocracies new theme.

                  Temperament unadjustable,sleets of snow heat wave,
                     melted in unhappiness, metaphorical life slave...

                     Mind divisioned split end irreversible destination,
                    the ends split, nowhere fits, ageless in estimation.

               Sightseeing with psychtoherapy,crawl deeper, farther within,
                    Creative Chaos called Manarchy, the evil mannequin!
Categories: estimation, corruption, dark, deep, psychological,
Form: Couplet
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