Best Footings Poems
There comes a time,
in the early, but
not so early, morn
when, and this is key,
if a portion of an instant
rationed a morsel of a moment -
but a crumb of that fell free
and it cast a deep shadow
whose depths made mockeries
of spelunk;
which you may remember
you'd dreamt of in some past
life and, if from this minusculity
sprang, the littlest offspring,
a hint of a glance of,
a coup d'oeil
the last of day,
the half-remembered,
prior life
when, if you glimpse
the newborn gold,
your heart'll still,
your mind'll still
and yes, your stillness
be distilled into
stiller still
if your heart and eyes
don't again conspire
to draw your mind
to your routine
of first and, perhaps
only, taking in the
most of things
the highlights and the
canopy's myriad meanderings
the rootings at their footings
supposed but rarely seen
in dark, in secret but
carrying no wrong
rather though
in the tree trunks'
simple middle
for a briefest, gilted
eternity, the trees
will burn not from
their crown
nor from their feet
and, despite the ice,
the sparkless space,
the cold steel
darts of insistent
slanting rains,
the trees will burn,
the trees will burn,
and all-at-once
the peripatetic sun,
its whims having won,
will dance along
and share its breath
with everyone
Two opposing warring factions, meet upon the AstroTurf
Battlefield, in the sporting arena of Victory or agony’s defeated,
Warriors of the pigs skinned javelin, tackle each other at the
White lines of collisions honor, marked by the numbered banners
Of the fifty yard kick off point, yielding unto the pillars of the
Goal post of champions!
In the heat of battle these heroes of gladiatorial games, called
The NFL, thrill and chill their fans to the inner bones of the
True sportsman living within all us, born in this great nation,
Known as the U.S.A.
In this victorious field of dreams, no illusionary visions exist,
For these powerhouse gentlemen, gain each footings sacred
Ground by athletic skill and sheer raw brawn!
To the meek goes the booing of the fumble, to the strong
The million dollar playoff championship, cheered on by their
Ever loyal crowds of adoring fans, whom are enthroned by
This sport of endurance and strength of will!
In this modern coliseum of champions, no touch down goes
Without a standing ovation, or Styrofoam’s thumps up signal
Of approval, in these concrete surroundings this is truly a time
Honored sport of traditions, to be remembered in the
Historical records of the future as a classical game,
To challenge the strongest of athletes!
Golden are the rings given as victory’s insignias,
But in the hearts of the players and their loyal fans,
The price of the championship game is worth the cost
Of every single ounce of sweat and exaggeration, shown
On this epic field of battle!
As the crowds roar, with excitements thrilling kick offs
Point of the triumphant, field goal point scoring, their
Human wave of appreciation, is set at the release level
Of thousands!
In the homes of America the volume levels of the cheering
Is off the ratio scales charts, as chairs go flying backwards,
And Bowls of snacks explode everywhere, for the winning
Play has just been committed, and the championship team
Takes the final center field of the victorious!
Hurray for the great sport known as football,
The American sport of champions has again earned
Another season of splendor in the turf war of victories,
Behold our favorite pastime, may this pigskin colors never fade,
As our flag shall forever wave, for this is truly the great
American sport of athletic skill personified!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
In the night I’ve heard them whispering,
Echoing voices carried upon the breezes of the softened
Winds, the detached, disembodied begging for helps
Resolve.
Within the rustling leaves of fall, a crispness of winters
Chilling breathes stinging and biting, at the last of the
Summer winds undertow, here in tombstones alley
The season of the dead begins, and the restless
Stir within.
Interments holding cells for the departed deceased,
Graveyard prisons with skeletal inmates rattling
Against their ethereal cages, like wild animals
Clinging to the dream of freedom beyond.
In Isolation's torture chambers beneath this
Cold hard ground, these spiritual beasts
Scream in a howling’s roar, we are here!!
A teasing flickering light, is the power lord of Christ,
As its white a glow, dances on the ferried edges along this
Graveyard of the dead, for this is the valley
Of the dammed, the forgotten, the unforgiving,
Those without remorse’s salvation.
Cold gray numbered stones, with no names reprieve,
Remain the only markers left behind them,
These the criminal insane, driven in life to destroy,
Now even in death they shall find no peace.
For the souls of the innocent patrol here,
The guardians of the faithful, the sentinels
Of God, stalking within the shadows, spiritual walkers
The gate keepers of light, shutting out the darkness
Of hell, by padlocking the iron gates to its entry
Deadened zone.
In the night I’ve heard them whispering,
Echoing voices carried upon the breezes of the softened
Winds, the detached, disembodied begging for helps
Resolve.
Within the rustling leaves of fall, a crispness of winters
Chilling breathes stinging and biting, at the last of the
Summer winds undertow, here in tombstones alley
The season of the dead begins, and the restless
Stir within.
Beware the ghost whisper whom treads on this
Unholy ground, for your footings step is unleveled,
You’ve been tricked my friend dare not turn around,
Leave this place of evil, and resist the lord’s pray,
And get out right now, for you know not what
You may disturb!!!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Who Wants to Play....
Inside Out is the New Fashion.....
Nothing hidden will dress the day
Character is flawless in His debonair
Strikingly tailored manners
Ironed distinctions solidify His footings
Each garment fitted respectively sound
Bold colors adorn His genuine Style
Open the Door ....Which Date shall it be....
Of a Tale...we are told that could be a possibility. ...
Rain, Rain go away,
this job has lost another day.
April showers have ran into May,
and the men have lost a week of pay.
Dirt and rain become a torrent of mud,
and we can not work in this kind of crud.
We dig the footings, they become a moat.
I'll tell you this rain has really got my goat..
There's mud in my office and mud in my truck.
I hear thunder in the distance more rain, Just my luck...
These May showers have become my bane !
If they don't subside soon, they'll float this job down the drain..
Historically,They are known to be
The foundation of journalistic integrity.
Though lately, many might argue
They've been replaced, with opinion's severity.
Who, could cause this metamorphism,
With the skill of a master puppeteer?
Or was this performance, one for the ages,
With multiple actors that disappear?
What, has created this shift in reporting,
From the factual to that surmised?
Is it all ratings and political spin . . .
Or more drama to keep us surprised?
When, will this story come to an end,
So that the truth can be told?
Since the lies are costing people's lives,
As if it's a mystical chokehold.
Where, has this deception arisen,
That has captured those willing to believe?
Because those roots must be removed from
The ground, if we're to move beyond and achieve.
Why, has the fiction turned away reality,
Giving to those a different view?
While it ignores many facts and science,
No matter how long they're held to be true.
Hopefully, the basic tenets we have relied upon,
Can survive through a lens of what's real.
Because if our journey continues based on false
Footings, that slippery slope, may be all we feel.
Blood mountains divided, staring back quartz veins.
Decending and rising, as footings lay claims.
Hopping and leaping through scents of black earth.
Surrounded by moss and love what it's worth.
Climbing the hill will pull at your muscles.
while healing your heart; tomorrow come tussles.
Seeing's forever and waiting not still.
Love of destruction; you rise till you feel.
Sniffing the wind that smells of the trees
while Winding you up on two buckled knees.
Then resting your fluids on top of your tongue,
Sees love far from home or a rule of thumb.
Now View the horizon on top of the mountain
Where words are in silence and chest like a fountain.
Relax and start humming and start your way down.
Returning you home and turn in your crown.
The new 950-ton bridge would beat
down time dashing to classes cheat
ting vulnerability asper thick traffic
putting life at risk,
thus laudatory alternative
intending to offer Sweetwater
to last a lifetime would make fleet
(installed at Florida International University,
with eager pedestrians ready to greet
crossing grand opening,
where local dignitaries didst meet
viz Miami-Dade County
Saturday (March eleventh 2018)
witnessing ghastly collapsed
Thursday (March fifteenth 2018)
afternoon onto Southwest Eighth Street.
An unknown number
of fatalities surmised,
while several others
were hospitalized.
Prior to groundbreaking
with placement guised
of the attendant pomp
and circumstances exercised
setting cornerstone,
the projected
general estimation apprised
sans building costs totaled $14.2 million
and funded as part of a $19.4 million grant
from the US Department of Transportation.
The fact sheet boasted the sheer intensity
comparable to withstand strength of a
category 5 hurricane, and supposed to last
for more than 100 years.
Within the blink of an eye, no ifs ands,
nor abutments squared with ratiocination
earning civil engineers bragging rights,
which boastful, delightful, fanciful stead
fastness touted thwarting titanic tenable
taxing shocked Katrina and the waves.
Now only a scattered pile (formerly comp
rising beams footings, and piers) of rein
forced concrete capped with a bent ele
ment defying hallelujahs, karaoke kudos,
and bobble headed nods,
now impish jinns keep leering, mocking,
and naysaying to fading echoing reverberations
leveled at the laughingstock of an architectural
(duff) feat. Further scrutiny will attempt to cap
chore structural weaknesses. Amidst snapped,
crackled, and popped strewn cables entwined girders
(whose premature destruction) will also warrant
any arresting tell tale signs of unusual stress.
L ive, laugh and love are fragrant spices of life
I n times of desperation, refreshing to the soul
V eils and smoke screens placed around each bend
E every illusion designed precisely to deceive
L et The Holy Spirit be your guide, rely not on what you see
A nd let it lead you safely through the maze
U nder currents may disengage firm footings self-assured
G ather up faith, hope, charity and love, adorn them as your shield
H old on tenaciously in the storms, for more precious than gold, you are
L eave burdens you cannot carry; let them fall where 'er they may
O ften times they tend to overwhelm, stirring up mental storms
V izualize the heart of innocents, see how no care nor worries it bears
E ach day, resolve to take the time to live, love and laugh
It appears the deeper we dig in the soil,
The foundation becomes clear about deceit.
As reinforcing rods look to be twisted,
Around all this compromised concrete.
Can the true nature be found in the footings,
That support this structure, constitutional?
While the layers have been crushed & compacted,
Leaving partisan levels to the judicial.
This search involves difficult fact-finding,
Tearing down walls with its demolition.
Where multiple efforts have progressed,
Seeking any fault to unearth by prosecution.
The finished product can hopefully resolve,
Massive tensions that are seen above ground.
While these cracks in our legal foundation,
Can be repaired to keep democracy sound.
Give me a day
and let me go away
Let me find my way
Let me go astray
and learn my lessons
Let us part our ways
Let me leave your embrace
and feel the coldness of the world
Let me get lost
And recapture my footings back
Don't hold my hand
Let me topple and fall
Let me rise and gain my strength
Just like a cow lets its calf
I wanna stand on my own
Let me feel the cruelty of people
Let me learn to absorb their jealousy
Let me learn to make them smile
They will love me though it may take a while
Mother,am no longer a child
i can now tame the wild
Just pretend you no more care
And let me fight free and fair
The taste of bile treads my thoughts,
Unwillingly my feet must now follow,
Source of inspiration guide,
Restore the signal fires now long lost,
Set beyond the temporal,
A path impassable by mortals,
The stairs of separation,
I must recount lest others falter,
Every sin a means, an end,
To each soul lead only by itself,
Counterfeiting perfection,
The usurpers, scoffers are now debased,
Anger above unrestrained,
Bereft of a target consumes self,
The famed fountains of knowledge,
Once fresh, soon descend to stagnant seas,
But only the sealed can see,
That for which they wait so patiently,
Bodies removed of the grave,
At attention stand upon their stones,
There encrypted, engraved,
Each history of self-enslavement,
Inheriting this decay,
A way in fissures fraught with danger,
Through the ravenous creatures,
Enthralled by the gravity of dust,
The ground to lie forever,
Fallow for jubilees once ignored,
Rising embers, never souls,
Seeking moisture, extinguishing both,
Lemmings to the precipice,
So did they rush only to accuse,
Perjuring with every word,
As fleeing reptiles forsake their tales,
Our course like a viper’s coils,
Round the kingdoms of brewing venom,
To behold the sepulcher,
We would visit the ten forsaken,
Follow the funeral march,
To find the center of the circle,
Like a town built on water,
Pitched footings yet ever eroding,
Their footsteps marking cadence,
Unending chimes of doom impending,
Self and place once separate,
Consummate here in actions devoid,
Those who were lowered by pride,
Moldering as risen ash returned,
Searching for what they know not,
To be entangled by serpents’ lies,
Fevered visions of the damned,
Lusting for the flesh of the living,
Soon to join the first fallen,
Trapped by their own perceived gravity,
The mass of death attracting,
The corruption of its own kindred,
Swaying the freedom of wills,
Tempting the words of the messenger,
We follow the Fisherman,
Whose breach left Hell lurching in its wake,
From the cavernous shadows,
We now turned toward the beckoning light,
Having fathomed the darkness,
To find its depth wanton and wanting,
Grieved, we left them to the night,
Dead ears hear neither thief, gate, nor keys,
Empty perceptions fall short,
He that protects, Justice is His name
The company wishes to research an idea.
Creating slotted aluminium frames that
Would be 18 inches thick centered between
Two areas.the external area would be double
slotted to house a poly thermal fiberboard which
Is housed behind a weather sealed plyboard. Which would be tightened
A sealed with weather resistant sealant.
The interior would be a weather sealed
the fiberboard internal plyboard would be to
exposed to create an interior wall. The idea also is designed
To use rough untreated lumber both interior and
External. With in the 18 inch cavity sand, cob, concrete
Or strawbales could be used to create the complete
Wall. An aluminium frame using the same dynamics
Would make the roof creating a pocket to be filled
With dirt, rammed earth, or cob to create a roof which
Could use external roofing to complete the project.
The structure would sii on footings and a concrete
Slab would be poured internal to create a floor.
Using rebar in both wall and ceiling is make uniform
Structurally sound walls to protect you from the elements.
Over lapped roofs to rid water run off.
Door and window kits designed to create a designers appeal
The structure to be priced under $10,000; with connection
Packages to create the mansionary roommate of your personal desire. Wealth determinational appendicitis dwellings. Using earthy materials to lessen the price of
Construction, allowing the aluminium and wood to create the
Desired look. Stain and shellac the plyboard. Scorn and oil
The untreated lumber. Create the perfect look.
Research and development.
Idea two...
Use untreated lumber to create 16 inch agaped boxes of fill
With a mixture of dirt and cement with rebar; of make the boxes with plyboard exterior attach rebar,fill two inches of cement fill with straw and.mud and cement mixture cap the top with cement.first you have to drill holes for bolts to attach new sections of the same material. Use plyboard to cover the area. This walling process can be used with a tracoring plan to allow the walls to be site receivable once cured.
Or creation of an aluminium frame with fiber walls walls
With poly insulation boards agaped and filled with earthen matrails priced under $10,000 to be attached to a trailers chassis.
Once there was a love,
Bright like the summer sky,
Dazzling like crystals under the sun's light,
Encompassing like the waves of the sea.
Once there was a love,
A zephyr of loveliness and devotion,
A garden of nature beauties,
A room of precious ornaments.
Once there was a love,
That’s gone with the winds,
Never to come back again,
Since you left my embrace.
Once there was a love,
That stood beside me,
Now I’m lonely and alone,
Wondering where I've gone wrong.
Once there was a love,
The essence of my happiness,
The prop of my right footings,
Now I’m disheveled and despondent.
Once there was a love,
I'd want to come back again,
Walk through my door,
And take its permanent residence.
October 27, 2022.
A pen who never bleeds blue nor black
As the changing shades of a clear night sky;
Bleeds blood, ever deep red
As a sword who fought million battles.
He never reveals his tale
But it is to be remembered
And will be remembered.
He sets aright others' lives
Make corrections, make amends.
Unlike his kin, with a white skin
The correction pen, bleeding white;
He never hesitates to unveil blunders,
Others made;
Only pronounce them, guiding them
To learn from their faulty footings.
The White King asserts:
" I, who, hide his flaws
Flaws of juvenile origins;
Grateful, he is, to me.
In his life's canvas,
With no scars to be blamed for,
He starts anew.
Turning the hourglass,
To let his scars go into oblivion,
Never to be seen again-
To him nor the others
With a history anew,
He starts afresh."
The blood sword, now spoke
He voiced his voice, as he said:
"Let your wrong footings stay,
Learn from them; grow."