Best Oppositions Poems


Premium Member The Dallas Cowboys

THE DALLAS COWBOYS

Can you not hear the rumblings of that distant herd coming,
The loud thundering of destiny’s champions crossing, the NFL
Field of dreams, beware the rampaging lightening team known
As the Dallas Cowboys, for they are the hail storms victorous
Breed, the eye of the hurricane riders, searching for their
Well-deserved trophy of fortunes honor! 
Remove your cowboy’s hats of respect unto them, ladies
Curtsy with reverences motion, for these athletes are
Endurance’s best, and they shall overcome against
Any opposing finest challengers, these rangers of the
Old western traditions, that carry this country’s time
Honored name of the cowboy to the ultimate extreme,
Of skill and strength’s dexterity!
Dallas all plain drifters of purity’s valor, head to head
No bull horns about it, these are the champions of the
Gladiatorial games in the world of sportsmanship!
Yielding unto no oppositions combatants, these warriors
Hold their ground with distinctions sheer magnificence!
Let those world famous cheerleaders scream with every
Field goal achieved, for these beauties know that no
Other team in footballs annals will score, to the level
Of these good old boys, named by fame's hall of records,
The famous Dallas Cowboys, heehaw and God bless hum!
Now listen you city slicking team of sports hall of fameing
Seekers, you’d better go back to your home fields of 
Advantages, for hear in this lone star state, we take no
Prisoners, and show no mercy to out lander's!
Here in the ALAMO state of freedoms calling,
We remember our heritage standing tall and 
Proud against all odds, blazoned in bullets
Historical legends, our grand team barres
The name of fore-barriers proudly, those
Pioneer’s men known, as the all American
Cowboys!
These six-shooters whom rode the die hard tails,
Across a new world creating a country of freedom,
Where only the tumble-weeds rolled, and desert dust,
Coached a man’s thirst almost to madness!
Now in traditions sport of men, a new team of desperado’s,
Threatens this lone star state, but have no fear my fellow
Texans for our Dallas Cowboys will send them packing,
With a good old boy’s field goals smacking, so I’ll cheer
Them on, waving my hat in the evening air, yelling heehaw,
Go get hum boys!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
FOR LINDA THE DESTROYER
ROCK ON SISTER POET
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.

Ascending Epiphany

I realize limitation
	Is an illusion.
My destiny is without
	Boundary.
		Looking,
Beyond death. Beyond the periphery 
Eternal Incarceration
Cosmic chaos is cooking...
	Infinite combinations
In infinite situations
Attuned yet unaware,
A universe of oppositions
Frequency and energy
Space, matter 
A spiraling dichotomy.

an ascending epiphany.


11-27-14

PLEASE COMMENT!!

 CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK, (pos. or neg.) CRITIQUES, OR ANY SUGGESTIONS 
I also enjoy simple lists of words, descriptors of an abstract reaction 
describe the feelings or ideas my poem invoked or left in feeling or thought.
Even on word. is better than none. Thank you

Premium Member Gift of Recovery

A black cloud envelops my sky
Threatening to rain down a torrent of pain
Oceans of commotion swirl in my brain
And I try to bandage the wounds in vain

I see only the receding vistas of light
And night prowling like a stealthy thief
The past chills the mind like hanging icicles
And I feel so heavy with frozen grief

I inch my way up like an ugly snail
My life is riddled with contradictions
Oh, I am waylaid, lost and beaten
From every corner, I meet only oppositions 

Yet dreams break forth in my heart
Amidst darkness shines a light
A call to spirit to seek the gift of recovery
Transforming pain into strength and delight

I must break loose of all the tethers
Let my soul embrace all that is dear
From this cage, I must fly out
The sky beyond me lies blue and clear!

Even at moments when we feel,
God has forsaken us, time assures;
However bad things are, recovery is possible,
When God is there quelling all our fears. 

Now I am on a journey of redemption
I tell myself- “Come out from this hell
Just start anew, nothing is beyond recovery
The dawn is near and all shall be well”
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Epitaph of An Abdicator

    There sat in opulent xanadu, the 
 demagogue of empirical hedonism, 
his granary once fuelled regal reign of epicureanism:

gregarious, restive, much-awaited successor of imperial dominion, 
neurotic, obstinate, was the cynosure of cynicism. 

The eldest child of Duke and Dutchess of York, erstwhile Prince of Wales, 
the proclaimed young heir, stood far from the course of sceptical euphemism;

                  The heir apparent had a historical encounter with Wallis Warfield Simpson by fatalism, 
by wooing Wallis, the royal blood encountered, clangorous cynical criticism. 

The resultant mayhem broke, the blue- blood became the bottleneck of idealism;
sagacious, was brooding strategies to be the prototype of unprecedented heroism.

The proclaimed marriage faced vehement oppositions: 
encompassing : religious, political, legal and moral objections.

The outright denial to accept Wallis as the king's consort, broke the anticipated rebellion, 
Edward's refusal to give her up, led to his final abdication. 

When was quite apparent, he could not marry his beloved Simpson, 
 finally settled to rebuke the throne from etched  imperialism as emancipation.

The man of the hour was then entitled "the Duke of Windsor", a transformation stunned the world and wrote an unprecedented statement in chronicle after abdication.
Edward VIII, once epitome of monarchism, became an ideal icon of asceticism. 

A sybarite, turned  commoner by deserting the successive chair of the british kingdom to wed his ladylove; 
a tale of unprecedented impeccable loyalism. 

The abdicator's epitaph on Royal Burial Ground, Frogmore, 
is still bearing in indelible transcription, 
the testimony  of an uncustomary love saga of renunciation. 

An epoch making transformation, decades have ever witnessed from iconic monarchism to transcendental loyalism:
through unprecedented renouncement
 of the bequeathed  throne 
to array chronicle's unrivalled iconoclasm. 

All Rights Reserved © SILPIKA KALITA
Form: Epitaph

Field of Life

In the field of life-
There’s a cause to strife.
For us to thrive-
We all must strive.

There are oppositions-
Beware of commotions.
Give no suppositions,
Attacks are no assumptions.

As a team we play-
With a goal every day.
The drive to win,
The play all have seen.

Every tactics with a pass-
Is a marriage with the grass.
The children of the couple;
Others it can topple

With hands on deck
There’ll be no wreck
For a goal-
Is a radiation of every role
Form: Rhyme

The Wall

He is the row locker that holds the bridge
He is the Bison that carries the load from the deck
A wall that resists oppositions, guards them in check

It’s been build to shield the back four
And plastered to cover up loopholes
He is hard and strong, José’s goal

This is the wall reinforced by José
His work-rate is breathtaking like wild horses
His presence is haunting to opposing forces

The fulcrum upon which the system revolves
Anchored at either end of the bridge
Is a wall that stabilizes a moving ridge

He takes up knocks and blows
Yet, never crumble to the ground
This is the wall that essentially runs around

He is a Mourinian, the rediscovered wall
Opposing forces hit the wall and bounced off
Ooops! “He hit my wall”, José scoff
Form: Ode


Premium Member Gold-Athena the Golden Goddess

A storm collides, with a mystic flame, 
It's raw force strikes, the last ancient Phoenix,
She rival's in pains agony, falling to the earth below.
The fire bird descends, crashing unto Mount Olympus, 
From burnt ashes residue, a new deity arises,
Behold it is she, Athena the golden goddess.
The blaze of hail's fire, burns through her finger tips,
Thunder bolts strike, in aggressions anger,
 Wisdom's strategist, in the art of war.
 None compare to this battle hardened warrior,
Patron saint of the gods, a heavy metal protectress, 
She is the iron clad maiden, guardian of the 
Grecian world.
A shimmering silver shield of lightening,
Blinds in a flash oppositions foe, 
Weildiing the double edge blade of justice, 
Her righteous might vs. evil's dark force.
Doesn't the earth itself shake utterly,
At her mere appearance.
Blow the ivory tusken horn, oh mighty Nikey,
Beloved symbol for victory, to vanquish thy adversary.
Sitting on the left shoulder of Athena, as the clash
Begins in Olympia, leave no Titan alive or unmangled.
Through the haze's fog, a golden chariot appears,
Pulled by Hades twelve black Stallions, breathing  
Hell's fire, with crimson eyes piercing the nights
Dark abyss.
Thus she is the master of this devils herd, a
Golden Goddess Athena, striking fear in the
Hearts of the foreign invaders.
In the Greek pantheon, her valor is celebrated,
And she is victorious on the behest of the gods.
Pay homages respect to her, Athenian's, for she is,
The Grecian image to courage and strength.
Beware this golden goddesses glare, it is the rising
Of the storm to come.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.

White Dot

Frog playing violin
                                             Perforated Ceiling Washer
                                           White Dot Wassily Kandinsky









                                            ©Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
                                                 16 December 2014




Notes:White Dot was painted in 1923 while Kandinsky was a professor at the Bauhaus. He combined various shades of white which are thought to imply possibilities in life and bold curving shapes of black which portray the antithesis, death. Interspersed are varying shades of red, blue and yellow. 

The circle was the perfect shape to Kandinsky and he felt it was "the synthesis of the greatest oppositions". He believed it led to the 4th dimension and was seen throughout many of his works of art during this period. The black circle with the white dot draws the viewer's eye to the upper right of the canvas with an intensity that is broken by the "squiggled" black line that bisects the canvas on the diagonal. The triangles as well as other shapes appear throughout the piece broken by diagonal black lines. Not only do layered planes of color give this two-dimensional painting depth but tonal variations of color on a given shape lends a three dimensional feel as well. 

Kandinsky's connection to music is felt as the riot of colors and various shapes can be compared to the arrangement of musical notes. The combination of angles and curved lines as well as bold color and shaded forms imbue the painting with energy and one could expect to hear a symphony resonating off the canvas.
art

Tolerance

In this day and age that most of the things
tend to cause many of us to be haughty and callous. 
That we cannot seem to bear with those things
because we simply do not like them.

This includes other people as well. 
An innate in most human beings - to like and dislike.

We do not seem to like certain people because of 
their dress, looks, sex, color, nationality, language, 
conduct, size, skills or talents.

There is nothing much that we can do about,
other than to learn to live with it and them. 
That is tolerance all about.

One thing we find hard to bear is criticism or correction. 
Bear in mind that they are meant for our own good.
It's up to us to learn early in life to be lenient; 
to bear with oppositions and corrections.

As the saying goes “There are no two people exactly alike
and both of them are glad about it”. The same holds true with
“when the going gets tough, the tough get going”, so let's not 
fight opposition and use it to our advantage, instead. 

Lastly, most of the things we cannot change are outside us. 
We can only change what is inside us. That says a lot about 
the good rules of life in the "Serenity Prayer".

04/20/16

An entry for 
"Lyrics.Cliche.Image" contest
2nd placer

This Stew Tastes Funny

The prompt was "Write a poem which is really a recipe".

This Stew Tastes Funny

I personally like to use the more established dramatic processes, but feel free to use your own version of comedy!

Dramedy (serves the whole family!)

Take the character, drive them headfirst
into a community of oppositions
that inexplicably attract,
cue a flurry of activity, sprinkled lightly.
Leave no weaknesses un-attacked.
When the conflict begins to rise,
place them in roles reversed,
have them recognise
that conflict yields no prize.
Leave the melting pot to cool
until each moralistic monologue ends with cheap slapstick verse.

Credit to Adam Sandler.
© Dylan Wong  Create an image from this poem.
Form: List

Your Querencia and Why Your Not Quitting

Could you imagine,
A face like that?
Created by the face of an angel
And modeled like fashion
For the damned and deceased.
A respected locksmith,
Drunk on insomnia and aging,
Kissing the pavement
With bare and busied feet.
The Brazilian beauty
Who prides herself as
The representative of blushing.
The one who catches the bouquet
By chance and
Throws it away before anyone notices.
But on a theory in a slip of time,
Before the extinct proposition
And an oddly proportioned new born,
Curls a quivering life form
In the belly of this woman so sweet.
Born from innocence and named Mary,
For the sake of Jesus.
She is not 36 nor is she 16
Yet she is at the fruitful age of 57.
And at 57,
This symbol of love and innocence
Is fumbling with the curiosity
Of breast feeding her unborn child
That wiggles and withers with frailty
Inside of her.

Dark wood,
Unimaginable line,
Where could you have gone
When the pages were as blank as the faces
And for the life of you,
You couldn't tell the difference.
Just say it.
Rip it from the tip of your tongue.
Show your taste buds no mercy and speak.
Grow.
Expand.
Consider the possibilities when
It appears there are none.
Enjoy the pain
And embrace all oppressions and oppositions.
Slumber in the smutty bluntness
Of a marital masquerade.
Quit it
Then keep it going.
Move the stones
And bend their broken subtractions.
Crack the indescribable aptitude
Of times motive for murder.
Explicate reason,
Smoke your lungs away,
Cry your eyes out,
And suck at the wastelands.

Why To Ponder

Oppositions
confraternities
why do they spread the world?

Inspiration
not desperation
why do man fail to know?

Being hardworking
pro-accomplishment
why can't all think this way?

Morn' sun rises
evening sun sets
why can't man ponder this?

The world we come
we marry we born
why do man need to die?

America, the Age of Conflict

America, the land of the free, catering to the wealthy and pushing the poor.
Blacks are all but exempt; they are seen as property and nothing more.
California brought into this nation by gold, as a false equality,
Demanded by some to spread the systems of vast irrationality.
Extradition in compromise to abolition.
Fugitives thrown back to chains, complete pacification.
Grace, all too fallen from, that was this nation.
Humble as many others were, one woman changed the nation.
Illegal activities by abolitionist became the norm, in hopes to stop degradation.
Johns and Janes educated in the taboo subject of the naive.
Kings and knights replaced with tyrannicals and elderly slaves.
Liberty and freedom for all,
Men and woman, Black and White, all readying to fall.
Night falls, creating a stage for the quarrelsome show.
Oppositions face each other, their bodies ready to feed the coming crows.
Position between this and that,
Quarrelling over the proper way to skin a cat.
Runaways are forgotten for the time being,
Say it so, as many were fleeing.
Tackless politicians following a false tradition,
Utilitarian, one may say, on their decision.
Vicious out cries spread across the nation following
White men's decision to take a stand being,
Xecute the evils of the world.
Yells coming from each side, each saying they are more moral'd.
Zephyrs blow across the grasses, to contrast what is to come.
Form: ABC

As They Leave (1)

As they leave,
They leave for us 
Calabash full of sorrow and agony
They leave for men a plate of frustration
And desperation.

As they leave
They leave for women nothing
But cups of tears and fears

As they leave
They leave for old ones a basket
Full of fruits of ultimate death and shame

As they leave
They leave for workers a big bowl 
Of empty promises, unpaid salaries
And incessant strike actions

As they leave
They leave for students a stabbed
And crippled students’ union,
Ramshackle and “Renopainted”
Halls of Residence

As they leave
They leave for our generation a loss compass
From which we can find and rediscover our
Moral values, valuable culture 
Instincts of deliberative governance and 
Leadership cum administrative acumen

As it is
We are living with fear of gbu-a-gbu-a 
Of daylight gunshot of the emboldened to 
Extort, encouraged to maim and induced to kill
Ultra-fascists campus cult groups commissioned
To crush all seeming oppositions

As is it
We are living with:-
Biochemists without reagents
Microbiologists without modern microscopes
Linguists without modern language laboratory
Computer students without
Being opportune to hold a mouse
Physiologists without bloodbank.

As it is
We are living with 
Dike archaic books and non books materials
Students and staff  basking in the euphoria
Of stone age and ancient facilities.

As it is
We are living in a garden that detest truth
Genuine intellectualism, dissent views and
Contrary opinions but rather nourishes in
Multi-colour ignorance, white lies, 
Ever green concocted disortions,
Oceanic blu-i-sh sycophancy and reddish intolerance
Which is only reminiscences of the black jackboot
Days of the Abacha junta.



Alayande Stephen. T
20th,September,2005
6.00am
Form:

Star Bound

Perfectly crossed
The planets and stars were
Overlooking our love
Gracefully writing our story
Oppositions in signs
To mesh stronger

Perfectly crossed
Are our bodies
Entwined in passion
Tangled in happiness
Mysteries yet to be solved
Within each brush of fingers

Perfectly crossed
Did our souls travel
Reuniting in a new age
Elegantly dancing together
Time spread us apart
To lead us to each other

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