Best Repelling Poems


Premium Member The Old Guitarist, Picasso - A Duet by Lioness Onpaper and Di11y Da11y

The searing sun has long been a revolving revelation of angst,
repelling songs of the skies, sung by the strings of the wings.
Pallid, poised only by muscle memory - a compositional backdrop,
past the point of revival, yet something inside me still ticks.

A trembling truth that never drifts,
these broken blues: a silent shadow with loud hues.
The bones of me, tunelessly picked out,
until I'm the aching hollow of unamplified sound.

Where do breathing colors of me sleep,
when deadly nights of the air eclipse upon the web once woven by whispers?
Death just a dropped chin and averted eye,
the slow slump of a sinner's stagnant dirge plays out.

Let those cobalt stones cease writings from vicious veins,
where wilting roses dip their thorns in starry puddles with no name.
Now begging for exsanguination of my pain,
the measure of a man captured, still, in expired offerings of disdain.

Premium Member Sapphire the Joyous Elixir

Sapphire elixir has formed herself into a beautiful gem,
relieving mental outbursts
repelling negative thought waves that could harm 
or inflict self-doubt of any kind

Sapphire properties transmutes negative thoughts
into light and happy ones.
Reaching for a dark navy stone in the form of a
pendant, ring or bracelet 
influences the wearer toward happy, light, joyful moods

Sapphire has been revered by the ancients, 
since the beginning of the beginning
known by the ones who know the heart's soul the best

Appreciated by those who can heal torn
Chakras, and those who can feel the earth's pain.
A magic elixir in the form of a gem that has the power
to transmute negative thought into positive healing

Healing for you, and healing for the earth.
Sapphire. The magic elixir toward great quantities of joy.

Premium Member The Wendigo

It is the craving never satisfied, the malformation
Of gluttonous starvation, the disfigured beast of emaciation.
Hell's spiritually depraved wind walker, feasting on the
Lingering slowing pulse of the flat liners final vibrations.
Engorging itself on the fiendish terror, unleashed by this
The devil’s own kindred son!
Dare not look into his hollowed out eyes, turn away from
This misshapen abomination, with its tautly pulled
Flesh, stretching thinly over its boney skeletal frame, it so
Lurks in the night shadows, waiting for a moment of
Unconscious weakness!
For it senses your revulsion, yet it excites and stimulates
Its inner bloods thirst, and desire to feed, awaken from this
Realistic nightmare, quicken your pace, hasten your steps,
Run mortal fool, run!
But there is no safe place to hide, once you bare his
Mark as prey, the predator by midnight follows the
Unrighteous footprints, this blackened satanic beast!
Beware the wrath of the Wendigo, for it has no soul.
This demonic sadist, hiding within the arms of darkness.
Behold this Insatiable cannibalistic hunter,
Taboo’s flesh crawler, stalking on the edge of reality,
Thriving on the hatred, and malice of your civilized society.
This demonic boogie man, whom dances on the grave
Stones of the innocent backwards, wearing a mask
Of lies and deceit, spitting forth a foul odorous
Stench, repelling the living, attracting the undead!
Beneath the chilling air, a creature so slithers, undetectable
Turning into vaporous mist, sniffing at the shifting winds,
Seeking, testing its keen awareness against the night breeze.
Kneeling in the holy church, the sinner begs for redemptions
Shield, to protect him against this foul monster of evil,
But it is too late, for the devil owns this fallen soul,
And the wendigo, is here to collect on his dark fathers
Unconsecrated debit.

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


Old Soldier

Unnoticed, he blends into the grey park bench,
eyes clouded and watering,
permanent tears for friends lost in a trench
not quite enough of a life-time ago.
Will anyone acknowledge him? 
Smile at him? Say hello?
How many people walk past without seeing?
Are they afraid to take a look 
at their future being?
Can see past hands on a walking cane, shaking,
which once held arms straight, which killed
as he dreamed of his mother holding him
close in a muddy field in France, dug in, 
his only perspective – the sky – looking up,
imagining his Victoria Cross moment, 
which never came.
His history has died with those he has loved:
he exists alone now, his life stored in his head,
musty albums in an abandoned attic.
His film is ending, subtitles about to roll,
last moments of anticipation, will his story change 
before the last curtain call?
Was he the star of his own show, his life?
Would that he had been so invisible then, 
in that giant gutter, repelling the end
but now the magnet has turned, 
death - an indecisive friend.
Ninety odd birthday's leave a stuttering heart 
and a once-red poppy, grey.
On a bench, sad fingers trace the brass 
in which his wife's name is interred
hearing aid off so his sweetheart's voice
can be clearly heard.
As there will be no 'hello' today.
That's all he wants. 
A quiet hello.
So he knows he's not already a ghost.

Portal To the South

I miss you, already
Your rough beauty
How you pretend to be wild
Being already postmodern.
The swings in your mood
Welcoming and repelling me,
Caressing me, bringing me down.
Your invitations to dive into sins
Gluttony, sloth, lust and death -
When in fact, you were bringing me back to life.

A part of me is kept with you
Taken by the roar and fury of your waters
Against the Moles
Against your basalt towers.
Kept in the flight of the lapwings,
Of the swallows
In the height of your trees
In the stones on the corner of the beach of Cal
In the shyness and candor of your people
In the insensitiveness of your guests
In the sincere passion of one of your sons
With pearly blue marbles for eyes   
Who never tires of telling about your beauties
Remains with you, a piece of me
Stuck in the whistle of these very waters
When they calm down
Washing the sands
Shaking the mussels
Shhh ... shhh ... shhh ... shhh
One day I will come back to see you, Torres
And make myself whole again.


Torres is the first city of Rio Grande do Sul State, the most southern state of Brazil. I've fallen in love with it.

Premium Member I Remember His Words

I remember his words, not that long ago
Telling of such times when crimson flowed
My Grandad, my hero, who's memories told
My bedroom window I look, it all unfolds

Neighbours fighting neighbours, why I cry
People talking yesterday now in furor
I'm young, I'm eleven, asking myself why
What's changed overnight, fueling this score

In panic surround Dubrovnik is now where I stay
Walled city, Grandads house, from Serbian tirade
Seven months endured, walls holding well
Wishing it's over ending our imprisoned hell

Again his stories unfold of countries in ruin
Fighting with Tito, heroes they one and all
Repelling the Germans, killing their doing
Repulsed he is, by their murdering thrall

Back to the present and a silence exists
Can it be that the fighting has now ceased
What I'm seeing aged eleven, people I know
Holding back tears of whom known deceased

It's now 2015, I'm a Lawyer of human rights
I've lived many nightmares, said killing sights
For my Grandfathers memories, he and all
There will be justification, when no one will thrall




.


Magnetic Force

Two magnets on the table lying cold and still,
Having much potential, doing good or ill.

When magnets attract each other, posts tightly bond.
Reversed, repel by the same phenomenon.

We too have potential; our influence reaching out
To our needy neighbors, suffering from doubt.

We also have ability, by equal force betray,
Our closed hearts repelling, turning them away.

By casual observation, persons looking on,
May miss the great sensation of reaching far beyond.

May our vast potential be magnetized for good,
Using our abilities that all good neighbors should.

"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.
Love worketh no ill to his neighbor." Romans 13:9,10 KJV
© James Tate  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Threading Hunger's Needle

Threading Hunger’s Needle
                                by Odin Roark

Acumen's voice smolders quietly
When deafened ears respond only
To discords of witlessness.

Perception's heat invites comfort,
Its embers remaining alive,
Its wake of constant resolve
Lifts vigils of swirling persuasion,
Choking away illiteracy,
Ignoring cross or sickle waved ominously.

Ever present, creation’s insight 
Remaining airborne in a void for those
With causeless breath being held,
Affecting not its surroundings,
Forever stale within ether locked,
Where roiling chasms of fear
Exude odiferous spoilage,
Rotting,
Polluting,
Repelling.

Such misery holds steady,
Amidst the multitudes’ repeated indulgences of flesh,
Where masses’ quintessential reptilian skin
long overdue for shedding
remain stagnant.

But cling it will,
This resistance to reflection and growth,
Feeling falsely safe in unknowing
The rewards of philological pondering,
Literature’s sign and verbal,
Touch and smell,
Eye and ear,
An all-sensitive motion
Making ready transference from literal
To one’s personal ethereal possession.

For some…

A chosen distance remains preferred.
A huddled observation from
Deep in the abyss of ignorance,
Convinced personal importance is to perish alone
Amidst a cacophony of unresolved noise.

Always close by, however…

Wisdom’s whisper continues to nurture hunger’s tenacity,
Knowing a needle unthreaded is of little use.
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

The Elixir of Life

From dark walls springs 
Ball of fire,illuminating 
The deeper parts to 
uttermost parts.
Like the rising sun, re-
kindles hope.
  Radiates afar off-from 
the heart's horizon.
A wellspring from a brook-
the soul nourishes.
Sheathing sword of aging
Unravels secrets of 
longetivity.
   The elixir of life,dew 
that quenches thirsty 
souls.
A magnetic and 
contagious force repelling 
sadness from despaired 
minds.
Can't be bought,bribed 
or stolen.
   If you need the elixir of 
life,learn from MONALISA!

No More Next Times

The whole house was dim
Only the oven flames burning
We couldn't find you
Our blood began  churning

We scoured each room
Our heartbeats are yelling
To find you alone
Deranged and  repelling

You stink of poison 
It seeps through your skin
An odor so potent 
So easy to pin

I smell the resin
Of two day old sweat
Your eyes somehow open
With no signs of regret

A vision of a junkie
No more and no less
To weak to confront it
Just claim duress

Your cheeks sunken deeply
Thinned to the bone
Straggly haired
A look made of stone

Lips dried to crust
Feverishly dehydrated
Spoke like a child
Eyes blank and dilated

The sirens grew closer 
You resisted the aid
I promised you solace
But you can’t be afraid

A few hours later
You were awake
I begged of you
To know what’s at stake

You created two angels 
That will surely turn sour
Blame it all on yourself
Its their souls you’ll devour

When the urges arise 
Remember the day 
We found you alone 
JUST A HEARTBEAT AWAY

Premium Member A Sisters Love

A SISTERS LOVE

Hearts dearest companion,
 My sister shines,
Mine protectorates against, 
Harms deepest heartache.
A sheltering umbrella,
 Repelling tear drops
Painful moments.
 Comrades council, wisdom’s
 Listening ear,
Defenders outspoken adviser,
 Ever ready
With tissues in hand. 
When in hearts sorrowful,
Shadows do I weep,
No other embrace holds, 
Me closer then you.
Loves everlasting angel  
Resides within her,
Behold our spiritual connection. 
 Softly whispering tender
 Encouragements,
Champions warrior stands,
 Tall beside me.
Built strong resolves,
 Foundational roots,
She never yields, against
 Challenges winds. 
Spirits kindred, a flame burning
 Clarity's light, 
We’ll meet together.
On the other side, always drifting 
But never apart. 

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

Flora and Fauna

The earth is a truly incredible place,
 but its environment is taken for granted. 
The natural beauty of seas and forests are beyond compare, 
and yet we continue to pollute and corrupt them. 

We depend on our environment for our very existence, 
while all the while we continue to destroy it for materialistic gain. 
Humanity wishes to thrive, we need to learn to protect, 
and embrace this planet and not work against it.

The plants in the highland give us fresh air to inhale,
robbed of her very own-her plants, her animals, her gems,
Seabirds circle above the darkened water,
beholding the water's repelling betrayal.

We no longer listen to what the earth,
its atmospheric phenomena and all its living forms,
its mountains ,rain, wind and valleys,
and all the flora and fauna of the planet are telling us.

Prison

Prison walls
containing
or repelling
end life

The Smell of Dead Flowers

Hey you..You over there...
Can you smell it too?
That rank, rotten, and icky scent?
It smells familiar,
But then, maybe the first time,
For there's a first time for everything,
	-I guess.

It's a decanting sense of darkness,
The only one,
	 -in the room,
The breaking point of my loneliness,
The impatient freedom of my losses.

For I have never smelled something so foul,
Repelling and revolting,

Has it visited me before?
Distasteful and loathsome,
Afraid and wicked,

And I sit here counting the hours,
As my memories start to devour,
The perfect scent has gone sour..
	-The atrocious smell of dead flowers.

It Came In Our Dreams

“It Came in Our Dreams”

The Others 
watch on,
somewhere above us.

we, ant like
form our battalions
soldier ants 
with no substantial sting
repelling reptilian 
brains in flight
striking our oily deals 
sliding into our nightmares, 
acrid smoke, bee-keeping our hives
we strike, in routine formations

they count 
our worth.
our number 
measured
in what always
walks alone
in our dreams.

they send
their messengers
to us, in our dreams,

while we 
war
in our sleep,
in the depth 
of our despair
in the flow, 
of our dreams. 

when we wake
we think,
that was so real -
what was that all about, 
that was so real,
where are we - 
are we really here? 

they count 
our worth
our number 
measured 
in what always 
walks alone
in our dreams. 

we 

are more 
vulnerable
than we believe.
we are seen 
for what we truly are
human - 
the fabric of us, flimsy -

easy 
and dispensable.

for a while 
we 
think,
we are 
all 
there is -
unique, 

in truth, 
we ...
lack originality.

wars 
of the unreal,
Nuremberg 1541
there have always been battles,
could this 
have been real, 
or just a dream

Tic-tac-toe 

we think we 
know 
it all 

battles come and go

what is drawing us
forward and up 
out of our bodies,
from the too deep dream 
we toss and turn 
in our sleep, nightmares
easy regiments -
dispensable, flimsy

souls
without feet.

one war down
another
to go.

It came in our dreams

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)



“Pallas Athena”/Bowie
https://youtu.be/yNV5_6vz208





Nuremberg, 1541 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1561_celestial_phenomenon_over_Nuremberg

Celestial Phenomenon Over Nuremberg, April 14th, 1561 
https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/celestial-phenomenon-over-nuremberg-april-14th-1561




Witness 
https://movies2watch.is/watch-tv/watch-ufo-witness-hd-67147.4829014




President Reagan: Address to the United Nations, September 26, 1988 https://youtu.be/nYi5h5Gvdz8

Ronald Reagan, UN, September 21, 1987 / Threat 
https://youtu.be/bfS7FrN5aNQ





LYRICS/”Pallas Athena”, Bowie
https://genius.com/David-bowie-pallas-athena-lyrics

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