Best Expressionism Poems
Where is the secret of the rainbow?
At the edge of one's own life?
Whence does it come, with those lovely pastel colours?
Is it a heavenly art or a mere human illusion?
Some form of an ancient creative masterpiece?
Perhaps expressionism was reassessed?
The spiritual in natural art is oft-forgotten
in musty mists, where the soul engages
in confrontations with the deadly reaper.
The appalling midst of winter intensifies in the freeze,
and the psychology of death deepens,
for we are too much attached to worldly cares.
Characteristic emotions in cowardly conflicts.
One can say so very few words about
the astute business of a measured life,
like autumn's falling bronzed leaves,
its face value is not easily perceived;
for dead leaves turn into compost,
no peaceful transition true, but a must
that leads and helps life's renewal in spring.
Forget the troubled dream of dreary life,
let the seasons daub their watercolours bold and free,
the rainbow assigns a variety of mellow hues,
chooses always the brightest.
For the secret of the rainbow
a symbol of new hope lies in its Creator.
Does not the pen yield its ink unto the bare page,
For expressionism to spill forward expelling inspirations
Liberal curve, it’s the power of freedom of speech is
It not.
How many have died for what they believe in,
What weight in blood soils, have these brave
Individuals has cost in life’s causes of the justice
And righteous.
These voices sounding can be heard even though
The flesh flame has been extinguished, hope light
Flickers in the darkest corner of silence, and it’s mighty
Winds wave can still be felt amongst the living.
Know one stands alone in a justified cause, if the truth
In the written words is spoken out loud, and is proudly
Bared by the author.
The next generations seeks our kindling fire, to inspire
There small embers to burn more brightly let us encourage
Such raw fuel to ignite, not smother it by smug self righteousness.
Set ablaze the pages of the future generations, let their inspirational
Spark spread, setting the very heavens a fire with enlightenment's torrent.
In this world we are given the gift of speech, thought, and wisdom,
For what other reason but to share the best of ourselves with others,
It is the gleaming light that sizzles in the eyes of the human spirit,
And severs us from the beast of the fields, and it is called Intelligence,
Compassion, and the freedom of speech.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
It vibes in harmonics broadband, a musical language universal,
Echoing across the heights divides, falling as a thunderstorms,
Raw force of spiritual power, descending from the heavens above,
The angels do yield, surrendering the gift of music unto the world
Of man.
Pierced by their angelic thorny prongs, tender notes of rhythm,
Melt downwards from the silver lining of graces everlasting meadows
Of inspiration.
Separations clouds expose the here ever afters, sparks of the divinities
Fame burning as a torch lighting up the skies white powder showering
The earth with sweet melodic undertones, a thundering vibrating beat felt
Throughout the pulsating heart of nature itself.
Music lives within all things, it binds a connecting link, a
Symphony a blending element, a melting promise between heaven and
Earth, a harmonious balance, light equaling dark.
In the vaults of the skies, the heavenly chorus joins with
The voices of humanity singing a song of complete
Harmony.
What a true wonder is this gift given unto mankind,
To write and sing, to share such expressionism with
One another, music is honestly a universal language
Understood by every nation, or age group beneath
The heavens themselves.
A heritages legacy passed down from grandfathers,
To fathers, and than to sons, and daughters,
Is this the love and wonder of these arts there in
So shared by all members of the human race for
Generations of inspiration to come.
I listen to the songs sang by the morning doves,
To the charming voices of our youthful young,
Than those jolly fellows from days gone by,
You know the old barber shop quorate.
So many variations and depths of degrees,
Harmony, rock-n-roll, to golden oldies country,
Music is a wonderment all to it's own glory.
So we thank you those powers on high,
For this miracle of a gift called music.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
she is alive dreaming
limbs like serpents growing
an embryonic adult on board sprawling
spawned
learning
she escaped a naked bed
her art stolen into law school
time decorates her shoulder
clocks tickling ticking
….
decorate her shoulder
always time and numbers
nipple oozes round innocence
lost are all her paintings past lives
her naked bed cold
canvasses half complete
entangled her limbs outlined in
blue
she dreams an illusionary future
in silk and law books
she
sleeps
awake
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art piece : She is Sleeping : Iqraa Daniels
Oil on Board :30cmx41cm
Date: 2014
Style: Expressionism
Genre: Nude
Source : Private :
Pic at website : ghairodanielspresence.WordPress.com
Blog post : She is Sleeping :27/3/26
You reinvented me
giving me a rebel's energy,
providing license for my love to sing
the touch of your soul meaning everything,
From us wild words arose
speaking of history and stars we chose,
expecting too much of Destiny
venturing on through wilderness and purity,
Inspiration innocent in it's infliction
made us bleed for need of salted affection,
exhibitionists with effrontery for the eyes of etiquette
expressionism unfolding humanism from stellar grit,
When wisdom had no mercy
she was a woman feminine in fury,
wanting to be stronger than truth
when I said I love you she demanded no proof,
All she wanted was a pretty poem
poetry that brings happiness home,
so we made substance of swagger
feeding life gold mined from passion's matter -
J.A.B.
Your abundant display of floccinaucinihilipilification
Has been established from the time of conception
Like a rotten fruit shaken to its kinetic destination
Is this not what the world expects from this generation?
Beaten into submission by the depreciation of individuality
We have conformed to the ‘it’s all about me’ mantra of impartiality
Boldly pusillanimous which enhances our real appearance of frailty
Covered up by the tinseled boulder of youthfully exuberant gaity
Just like the Quakers decided we were the ignorant ideal in their initial determinism
Then soon conveniently revised it in keeping with exhibition of popular barbarianism
You and I have been fickle in our choice which has down played truth of expressionism
Being on the fence has undermined our value; oh if only we embraced humanitarianism
Vivid in an undefined scene where light and darkness mix
and vagueness’ reality is in a very clear expressionism
to the point terror wears her dark shade and highly dignified
with every next step slapped with the threats of uncertainty
and directions holding no promises and lacking all truths.
Faith is the living tissue for all survivors,
courage, the sandal on which any rough mountain is climbed
and hope, what gives all existence a reason to maintain sustenance.
But these three are becoming the sides
of a triangle with disjointed edges.
A traumatized soul is susceptible to moral infections,
a punctured pocket subjects
a comfortable hand into unforeseen strandedness
making the liberty to be free, quite expensive
like the fate of moving in so much space which is still very limited.
Standing, walking, resting and walking again
as a clear vision of oneself on a second person’s perspective
on a very real event, sums up the influence of this situation.
The end of the world is reached but looking backwards gives more threats.
The free fall is inevitable and that last step
for it to manifest sits at the edge of the cliff.
Then with open limbs, the descent is quick and scary
just to land and discover the destination is one just near the bed
exclaiming in thanksgiving all holy indignation, this isn’t real.
The panting, sweating, heartbeat and palpitations say it all
of an emitting fright gunned out of the mind’s night’s cinematography.
even though the world has changed
the center of my jolly is still present
nothing has been rearranged
the vibe of the joy is still effervescent
even though the mask is required
the intention of my greeting is still vibrant and sincere
the gleam of your smile is the aim of that is desired
the release of your stresses is the hope i bring in clear
even though expressionism has been the way of the march
the balance and the sway of my merry sleigh is still even
the wear and tear of my many movements may have caused me a slight arch
yet and still my footsteps' purpose is still strongly breathin'
even though my skin on my hand are a bit flaky from sanitizing
i sing a song gleefully with a bashful passion
the repetitive monotony from certain officials may seem tranquilizing
i pray that the rhythmic picture is absolutely smashin'
oh how i wish for days of old
oh how i miss the inspiring scent of silver and gold
oh how i miss her smile and the happiness it brung
oh how i miss the Christmas tree corner and the shelf above the toybox where the stockings hung
the bodies of water where i take my selfies are all the tears cried for missing her
i would give my left hand for a clear vision of even a blur
however i do have her memories to keep the files safe and warm
the embodiment of her treasured yuletide inspiration will not be moved because of some pandemic swarm
even though the tradition and the love within has become oddly estranged with time
i am still forever etched in the immovable influence of The True Unwind
for God will AllWays be the Imminent Concluding Factor
His End Result is Straight, No Chaser.....never portrayable by any actor
quintessential
abstract expressionism…
wildflowers blooming
In the airs sweet whispering can you not hear their humming,
These cyber kindred joining together, strumming, across
Oceans, beyond continental divides, it’s a shared song of
Harmony!
In lyrics of verse, rheum and time, expressionism of
Grandeur, shared idealism and emotional tides,
Swaying in the winds of the poetic imagination.
Harken, and listen to the brilliance in melody,
On this international internet family known
As poetry soup!
In the lyrics of these artist bards, are the binding
Ties of paper and ink, yet we share so much more!
The instrumental blending of cultures, beliefs,
And emotional diversity’s, merging within the
Written words of the creative artists inner soul,
And being!
Gleaming stars of friendships, shinning in a
Timeless connection of love, understanding,
And a mutual tolerance for all our differences,
Can be shared and expressed without
Repulsion or offence!
In this unique forum true beauty of honesty
Is shared, between the hearts of mankind,
To encourage and inspirer the next generation
To come.
We are the open hands that offer
Guidance, the words of praise to inspiration,
A shoulder to cry upon, if the tides of emotions
Seem to overwhelm!
After all we are all family, friends, and the
Kindred to humanity, here in this society
Called poetry soup!
Let those whom have fallen at the words of criticism,
Find a calm river of peace here, a helping hand
Of understanding extended unto them, and
Allow them to stand again with a prides honor!
Inspirations lit torch of the future burns brightly,
Uniting us together in this cyber family!
An international netting, not made of wirers,
But of friendships, experiences, and emotions,
Here in this global sphere called earth,
We are one!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Purities sweetest honey melts, as tear drops
Of sunshine.
Fallen thus upon the meadow of thought
And imagination.
It yields the tenderest of wild flowers,
Delicate bouquets gathered yet grown within
The minds of humanity.
Golden wheat fields, shining beneath a yellow sun,
What a marvelous harvest, to share with thy,
Brother's kindred, that of your own idealism and
Expressionism.
Sweet harmony’s music angel's do play,
Upon golden yellow harps, a mist heaven's
Blue divides above.
Inspirational muses are these divine angelic
Creatures, gliding upon white powder clouds
Of softness.
The poets heart hears their melodic
Melody, and responds with words deep
Felt expression, placing the quail pen,
To paper.
But ages yellow turns the plant fibers,
To mush, and blacks ink fades with time.
Yet the memory is past down, and others
Word of mouth, shall remember beauty's
Once written words.
In the honey hive of the human world,
Many bees do buzz, seeking the nectar
Of the most beautiful rose that grows in
The garden of inspiration.
But the lone bee touches his uplifted wings
To enlightenment’s thought, so thus he
Himself may create a masterpiece, that
Will be remembered forever.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
02-03-2014
i am your blue angel
paint the town of me classic black
decorate me with sweet blessings only found in the serene nature of the divine
the simplicity of it all does not have to be to abstract
all you have to do is love me with the ease of a gentle breeze and consume me with reassurance
this blue angle will illuminate your heart and mine with sincerely genuine gratitude
my appreciation will ascend far beyond the ambiance of any atmosphere and kiss the constellations to lasting levitation
it is with you whom i would rather exist fully with
the palace that i will build for us will be surrounded by greenhouse inspiration
i will make you blush with a rare version of radiance
i will indulge on the deep meaning of your exemplary expressionism
take this blue angel here and add yellow to create New Nature
take the classic black and add the beautification of you for properly added emphasis
it is then that i will love you completely with my hearts full participation and cooperation
that 'Happily Ever After' will be flavorful like a wild cherry kool aid popsicle
as i cherish all thoughts of you that warm my heart fully, i hope and pray that the seeds of my love for you will make the garden of your love for me grow....
I
ride
in art's
paradox-
feeling inner life
then outer reality
as expressionism absorbs impressionism
Where I come from
Women are morale formed
Symbol of sanity
In a world of insanity
Mother Nature in personified
Mother to old and young alike
Better half of a man
A man ages above her
To be better, she is submissive
Submission, made possible by respect
Through the ages gaps the respect becomes natural
To love a man ages younger is unnatural
Therefore unwomanly, though women are blameless
Blinded by the illusion of sexual expressionism
And freedom which is not needed
With the presumed weakness, comes the strength
The strength that is fast eluding us
You don’t have to be men women
Because we men are jealous of women
For they always stoop to conquer
Who ever said age is just a number lied
Age substitutes wisdom and experience
Nature made it so and nature is woman
Offor Ujunwa
on the contest- Cougar Effect
absolutely amazed
how did i get you back
the things you have accomplished since
i never thought i would or ever could
absolutely amazed
what change in particular drew you back to me
i feel as if i am the same guy
i think i am the same guy
is it just the changed in time and life
is it primarily the changes that YOU see in ME
whatever it is, i do not want to mess this rare second chance up this time
so sit down here....make yourself comfortable in my arms
talk with your mouth, your mind, your tonality, your expressionism, and your hands
tell me....no....make demands to me what you need, what you expect, and what you want
i will reply with the same and address any concern that you may have when it comes to my overall sincerity
i am just grateful to God that i have you back
i am forever with Forever....absolutely amazed....