Long Anticipations Poems
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Imagination is a gift many of us receive. It is within us for years and all we have to do is believe. Imagination breaths life from the eyes who, see it through. It is strong enough to take something old and make it new. As kids we possess this power and use it to entertain ourselves but somehow as we grow our imagination is left behind and yet still forever it stays by our side. We later learn how to use our imagination to our advantage and take it all in stride. We look at other sources that help us see what is in our mind. We hope that others will understand our views and decide to stay by our side. We wonder and explore a different world and then somehow bring it to life.
Some forget the beauty that imagination can hold. As every single mind has its own story to be told. We allow books, music and movies to describe the stories that we choose to think. Though there is a chance that it may not always appear as accurate as possible yet we still decide to either swim or sink. We entrust those skillful hands to recreate that in which we see. We let complicated matters take place in hopes that they set our minds free. If what we have imagined is as accurate as we hoped, we continue to look deeper and further as though searching through a telescope. We attempt to materialize all in which we see. We do not give up until the puzzle is complete.
Imagination has a way of revealing the intelligence of one particular human being. As we always try to uncover the stories that we are seeing. We wonder how the individual has managed to think of such a plot. When we finally get the answer we either accept it or think it not. Even though we do not know or have not met the person who has created that said set, we judge them using the story that they have told despite how our actions may seem cold.
I love how our imagination can take us into another world. How ideas can just spin, circle and swirl. There are no rules or regulations its filled with nothing but our hopes, dreams and anticipations. It can take a simple object and turn into a huge project. It can take whatever you see and allow it to fly as you set it free. You can become anyone who you want to be. No one can change what you see in your mind. It is yours and yours alone, which makes it harder for others to look for what they think they can find.
Stretching at the very heavens are the braches of autumn,
It is becoming the season of death, and mother natures promise
Of rebirth is with drawing, leaving nothing behind but stilled
Whispering echoes.
The very ground itself grows fidgeted, as winters icy finger tips
Strangle at earths raw under belly, finally it yields to the pains
Agony and nature lies slain, forced into hibernation’s sleep, until
Spring breath will awaken it at last, with resurrection’s sweet kiss of life
Once more.
A screeching black raven clings to the darkening skies, one by one do
These harvengers of death land atop the trees icy prongs that bend and
Brake beneath their feather weight of distain.
Dark eyed demons ever watching, waiting unto the night takes passion
Of this world of the living, these sentinels of the demonic peck, and strike
At one another with anticipations things to come by night.
A stilled silence blankets the forest; nothing stirs except the creaking of
The ice in a near by stream, on the path a sobering wind rustles at the deadened
Leaves that crackle in the fall breeze.
It so creeps forward the feeling of uneasiness, the soft breath blowing against
The back neck hairs of humanity, a lumbering heaviness boggs down the air itself,
Almost choking the life from all living things in the surrounding venue.
Excited the black birds take winged flight, soaring screeching, announcing it
Comes, it comes!!
Shuttering nature pulls its white snow covering over its very head, she even
Wishes not to see, this true face of evil that cometh forward, the ethereal trap
Door has been triggered, and what elopes onwards cannot be stopped by
Any powers on earth.
Blow does the trumpets of heaven, angels take to the winds of destiny, beckoning
The evil to with draw, but it mocks at them, screaming in a howling’s rebuking,
I listen not to the likes of thee!!
Then a light unseen for many a millennium comes forward, it is the light of
Everlasting salvation, then creature of darkness shall thee do battle with me,
Nay I will with draw, backwards from winnest it came it vaporizes and disappears.
In the woods there is a path, never to crossed by humanity, their thou shall not
Step, for the essence of evil’s cold chill still lingers, in the autumn chilling wind.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Wrought liquid metal, hued in the fire's of hell,
Pored into a castings shell, then hammered well,
By the angry fists of Satan himself, behold the skeleton key.
Accursed by evil's malevolent spell, one size fits all,
No locked doors can resist against its turnings twist,
Opening unto the supernatural's mystical power, and unlocking
Humanity's hidden passages and darkest corridors,
Leaving no secrets left unspoken or in silence.
Crimson blood spewing forth from corrupted key holes, oozing
Downwards unto the floor below, staining ancient
Tapestries of the royal gentries, and the upper classes refined.
Skull to the cross bones, it possesses a will of its own,
A vile living entity, with its own consciousness.
Molding, reshaping itself at pleasures dark whim,
Feasting on hatred's malice, then releasing it unto the world
Of men.
A twisted wanton thing, laughing with intentions cruelties,
And relishing in our agonies pain.
But *****sapiens are a curious species, never realizing when to
Leave things well enough a lone.
We must know what lies beyond that forbidden
Door, where mankind is not allowed to trespass.
In these dark places of shadows ethereal, it rocks in a fetal
Ball, a creature, waiting to be disturbed, go then seek what lurks therein,
If you dare, only the key knows what it really is, and it laughs,
At our ignorance, mocking us in the darkness.
Four it is the beast, chained and shackled within our worst
Nightmares, a fierce devilish demon, that pierces through the
Darkest of night, to hunt the innocent souls of wayward men.
You've have ventured to far, beyond thy safety zone of no return.
Four death lies in those reddened eyes that watch you within
The darkness.
If you move it will attack, motions movements attracts
Attentions reactions, so remain frozen there is no safety's retreat
Thou'art trapped, again the key so laughs in the abyss,
Mocking at humanity's ignorance.
Shaking with anticipations glee, it begs the next
User to place it into the key hole, of the unknown, come along
Now what can it hurt, just one little peek, let’s look beyond the crimson
Door, as the skeleton key heckles with unbridled happiness.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
9NINtyFIVE5
9NINtyFIVE5
CharlaXFabels
CharlaX
Eye the fabulist fabelist maker of dreams for ewe still remember the poem eye
wrote where eye mentioned the fact that eye think they are liners for birdcages
the most that people have been to me is nice there was a few Christians who
liked some of my poetry for JESUS. This is not a fable in the puerile sense of the
word. BUT this ewe is a giant dandylion poem eye make them bleed eye scritch
and scratch them and twist the ending oblong into infinity. Eye feel a need to
defend myself to my detractors after all even CharlaX had a mother. It was more
than that a family eye had a place to eat a room to sleep. An important man is
never needed until the end too late to make the needed differences. Pomp and
pestle pistle listed they sent my picture eye won a contest all they wanted was for
me to buy a lot of plaque. FlaX and cotton homespun medley lay upon the
CharlaX belly nice long drinks in the afternoon writing a poem making a fabel
swan it leans this way and that way falling to pieces and parts of words become
gentle rain long dripping drops of waterial motion lapping at shadows of love.
Fancy markings of worded pleasures for years of estranger in the wooded glen
fords and glen glens. The caterpillar tracks in the proper syntax is a Diatribe.
Nominal feeds paid out and lost in space with gasses let loose that rival skunks
in size and areal width the size of that thing just look Ethel the size of that thing in
centimeters all alone would equal the lower belt of corn in the Midwestern state
of Iowa they called CharlaX to come he wielded his Hermann Maurice axe phone
and refused to budget a car rental he does not hitch hike anymore he walks back
and forth from one glorious day into the next of time come forth thou CharlaX from
the grave concerns of formidable returns on investments given in earnest
anticipations of reaped rewarded inclinations please come to Kansas and chop
the wheat down with your western ax make bread for all the millions of the crew.
The penny tossed in air so heated by debated frenzy of the sharkless few was
tails a lucky brake for yew.
I can imagine people shouting and laughing, and see others running toward somewhere. I am in the throes of not doing anything important today, not up, not down.
Frantically doing what they can to enjoy themselves during their five days of vacation. Standing in lines at the airport, greeting family and friends who are coming from out of town.
Like giant ants they dash through the stores, grabbing this and that, knowing this year will be the best one. Selecting gifts for people they do not know, and sometimes people they do not care about at all.
There was a time that I would have been in this throng, pushing and grabbing, frantically trying for fun. Those days are past. Now, when others are running, and dashing, talking, and running to the mall.
Preferring my peace and quiet and solitude, preferring to do whatever I want,
Things I love to do best, without any concern for others, no worries, nothing misunderstood.
I have earned the right to enjoy, doing only for me, nothing to bake or make or hunt. I am feeling free and happy, feeling truly and honestly relieved that I feel so good.
The grandchildren might come by, and that would be fun for a few hours.
One might even spend the night, eating junk food, playing board games, like
Life and Clue.
There is no list for the store, no must-have list, no cleaning of the baths or showers. I do not have to spend a bunch of money on things myself and others will not use.
I do not have to bake or cook or clean or decorate anything. All I have to do is relax. Holidays at our house is just another day, except the drive to work irritates no one.
This is fine. It’s cold out there. We might want to cuddle up, and take some long naps. If we do, we do. If I want to paint, I do. If I want to write, I do. Rejuvenating, and fun.
If I do not want to rush, and dash, and join others, I do not have to, nothing is expected. I sit and watch these ants and feel safe, in my well-earned hiding spot, in front of a big store.
A holiday season unhurried, no schedule, no lists, no anticipations, nothing better. These lazy holidays to do whatever I want, I must admit, I truly do adore.
It was a dream portraying 'PRELUDES'; not a nightmare of a pre concluded judgment. Defined as an introductory performance or event, the word PRELUDE speaks volumes. This dream was about 'power grabbers and politics', but more.
As I recall, I assisted my son in the purchase of his first car which was a PRELUDE. However, I wasn't thinking in terms of introduction, because that car was indeed the main event. But that's another story, because I don't really know why The manufacturer so named it.
Back to my dream which had answers that did not involve a well made small car. In my dream, there were elaborate plans and blue prints drawn up with anticipations, clever and subtle. There wasn't suppose to be a reprieve to raise the heads of compassion, mercy, and restraint.
The experts had dotted every "I" and crossed evert "T", or so the power brokers thought. The would-be losers were deemed laughable and assigned words like archaic, and out of touch. Staples like unity, compromise, common ground, and diplomacy packed their bags and left town. Detente is a powerful word that describes strained relations between opposing nations, but now
that same word was relevant to loss of civility between people within their own communities.
Things were moving from bad to worse and people in the know were indicating that present events and conditions were PRELUDES of worst things to come. In the midst of all the changing, there were prophets of doom and prophets of hope. Both prophets were surrounded by very dark clouds, but
in the midst of the darkness, there was clearly seen a myriad of rainbows associated with just one of the prophets.
I felt peace as that prophet looked straight into my weeping eyes and said, "Not all is lost; there is still hope". I then awaken from my dream and gave thanks to the God of mercy who always seeks to avoid judgment.
092521PSCtest, "P" Contest, New or Old, Constance La France. 3P
I've felt it said
here
time and again
That a personal issue
is also about political tissue
reconnecting economic responsibilities
risks
opportunities fiscal
annual
perennial
Centers of felt pleasure
and good humor
are Passions,
not only small
and great transitional
but resonantly
resiliently multi-anecdotal,
Excluding all DisPassions
DeGenerations
and humorless passions
actively resisting future dispassions,
loss
suffering
mortality
and all that dualistically dark stuff,
sensory tissue memories
of sacred issue images
My peculiar ecosystem
co-empathically admiring Ultra NonViolet
rainbow
spectrally ionic Heaven
multiculturing emergent organic
ironic Paradise
And personal political insider trading
in Gospel EmPowering PassionStories
co-emerge eco-Paradise here
with ego-Pleasure now,
sacred place
with historically enculturing
triangulated
bilateral
tipping pointed hierarchical
and reverse root systemic revolutionary
upside-down
EarthHealth PleasurePower
anticipating more HeavenWealth ParadiseLight
win/win peace-viral
evolutionary PanSensory
bicamerally enlightened
eco/ego double-binary
unboundaried trans-empowerment.
And so I try to co-discern
discuss
cooperatively dialogue
about whom I am supporting,
investing in,
and why
I might reasonably expect
mutual win/win health/wealth outcomes.
And, on the other hand,
when such mutual intention becomes
and belongs within anti-losePleasure/loseHumor
transparently shared limits,
then it is time to set chronic stressed
win/lose compromises
anticipations
evolutionary theories
existential angst
depressions
negative impressions aside
To grab hold
of cooperative
systemic con-celebrating revolutions
toward transliturgies enlightening
empowering
re-ligioned win/win
SecularLeftMinded/SacredRightHearted
ego-impassioned EarthHealth Justice
resolutions
Embracing Pleasure
and Paradise,
Power
and Light,
Earth
and Heaven,
Secular
and Sacred,
Deductive
and Inductive
cooperative GoodHumor,
within NonZero-Soul's ubiquitous remainder.
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream,
Rocky road unto the tin roof, let the chocolate chips
Fall where they may, float me down the river of
Goodie, goodie, mouthwatering spoonful’s of what
You know my friend, Ice cream!!
Double dip me, with peppermint silvers of toppings
Delight, I’m not bashful I’ll taste another delicious
Tasteful bite, of yummy goodie, past the teeth,
Down the throat, look out tummy hear it comes,
The sweetest yum-yum, you’ve ever indulged in,
What is it called, let’s all shout it out, loud and clear,
I scream, you scream, we all scream for Ice cream.
Frozen milk and sugar what a rushes impact left on
Over load, so many variations of pleasure my taste buds
Surrender, unto Baskins-N-Robbin’s ultimate control.
To a fine point pleasure zone, smoothly textured
I’m drooling with anticipations brain freeze.
Chill me to the shaking inner core, I’ll become the
First human living ice cream cone, a chiseled
Ice sculpture smiling within an ice burg of delightful
Bliss, just don’t forget my sprinkles topping, your choose
Of choose.
Scoops at the ready, hear there is no holding back,
Let the squeeze bottles run free at last,
Marshmallows, to milk chocolate flow, I’m
Here for my just deserts repast, licking down
Unto the last drops of flavor are finally gone.
Come on fudge slice me, ice cream man,
Let no truck pass until the final frozen bar
Is shared with every lucky child, whom chases
After your musical vehicle of our childhood
Remembrances dreaming.
Oh sacred is the banana split, the whole grail
Of the summer time treasury treat, three scopes
Of sensations richness, covered by the sweet sauce
Of thy choosers delectable choose, I’m at your
Tender mercy, please take advantage of my
Weakness, for what Ice Cream!!
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream,
Rocky road unto the tin roof, let the chocolate chips
Fall where they may, float me down the river of
Goodie, goodie, mouthwatering spoonful’s of what
You know my friend, Ice cream!!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
A perfect Sunday, as only god can make
The skies the barometer, tend to set the mood
This day clouds…oh, so wooly white
Like sheep grazing… among the blossom blue
Sunshine’s accents must be added too
Dad, magnificent in his Sabbath greys
Mom in dress pastels pink
I and brother with our ties
Sisters in their outfits, scarlet lemon rainbow’s paint
Upon this most special day excitement begins to break
Mass now ending, bells a chiming and I think I heard an angel hark
"It’s time to sail dad’s newly fashioned model boat
Us kids led by thrills ran ahead to a pond within a park
We cheer him on… cheering!
“Go dad, go”!!
Watching, our eyes filled anticipations
As he sets her onto placid waters hoping she will float
Harmonious sighs, of wonder, escape our lips
As the canvas streamers now pervaded… capture air
Cutting… through the glistening sun filled surface
Waves of spectators rippling to pond’s edge, begin to stop and stare
I silently break and turn…
And glance upon that man
Like the mast of his vessel, stands proud
I think to myself “that’s my dad”
Then, suddenly thoughts be broken
By clatters and whispers of new heard commotions
On his face a frown begins to grow, as I looked towards the lake
Taken was the wind right, out of his sails…and it lay in the midst of the pool… devoid of
any motion
Disenchantment surely to be had
Spreading through crowds that were growing thin
But, the unexpected, was what happened next
In his Sunday best, my dad… he walked right in!
My whole family now, especially mom
Utterly and completely aghast!
Little brother shouting! “Go, dad, go”!
The crowd returned, the water rising to his chest
Roars of encouragement and rounds of applause
As waterlines reached engulfing his neck
The childhood memory forever stained into my head
Was of dad splashing out… soaking wet!
The schooner under one arm, his contagious laughter to us spread
His Sabbath grey suit was now absolutely wrecked!
Like I said...
It was a perfect Sunday…
In the eyes of this little boy
Racism research
and therapy
often oversimplify
Elite patriarchal against NonElite ecofeminist
LeftBrain dominant complexities
Confusion between LeftBrain privileged and RightBrain fragile,
Elite v NonElite
lack of win/win integrity experience
of RightBrain's repressed shadows,
felt dark intelligence,
indigenous peace,
ancient wisdom
Modern EgoCentrism,
without EcoCentral communion,
is LeftBrain dominant
Elite self-identity
out of touch
with GoldenRule gratitude,
cooperative democratic wisdom attitude
In a Western dualistic
LeftBrain educational support system
dominantly focusing on cognitive
analytical
deductive,
reductive individualism,
Either always Truly best
or always False and unrewarding
short-hand capitalistic evolutionary world view
In Left with Right creative tension
with co-passionate felt appreciation
of revolutionary Earth
and all Her Tribes,
viewing our win/win
integral spinning world
Ecologically
Theologically
Intersectionally
MetaParadigmatically
Multicultural
PolyFramed environments,
internal and external experiences,
interconnected systems,
metaphoric mutual climates of his/her-story,
polyphonic colors and tones and hues
and octaved encircling cries
of polyculturally deep learned resonant re-membrance,
TransRacial Renaissance,
patri/matri-coarising Revolution
Revival
Thrival outcomes/incoming.
Meanwhile,
White privilege and concomitant fragility
through Left v Right apartheid
historically points toward climate
interdependence and fragility,
inside as outside,
Outside terrifying inside anticipations
of both negative risks
and positive opportunities
double-bound
like double-negative=positives
not not in metaphoric collusion
restoring health/wealth
nurturing/naturing peace,
polycultural/polyphonic
Racism research
and therapy
complexly bicameral
Elite patriarchal
reweaving NonElite matriarchal
reverse-hierarchical depth,
breadth,
indigenous nondualistic wisdom.