Long Unexpecting Poems
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Pet Poem, GiGi
With quite a large grasp of human’s language,
Gigi is “little girl,” our princess. She likes that.
The smartest pup we ever had; brought home
As a rescue, found — they told us — wandering over
Open eastern Kentucky hills. Lost from somewhere.
— Perhaps intuitively seeking her destiny —
Until out of her cage, that unforgettable day,
She rolled before us onto her back, wagging her tail,
And Jim swept her up into his cradling arms, which
She’ll never forget: her eyes see him with adoration.
This long-haired, silky-black dashund mix,
With brown streaks on her bearded muzzle; then,
Barely 12 -pounds; with long ears;and
A sweeping, fan-tail arcing up over her back.
Now she is nearly eight years old (we guess).
She becomes a friend to anyone who comes in,
Insisting on their attention, supposing the feeling
Is always mutual, and she will try to say so,
Because she has observed that people talk, which
She seems to understand will get results. Lately, Tr
She tries to speak with variations of sounds so
Nearly parroting song. She seems to hope she may
Receive the “Oh my!” exclamation that causes
Actions, meeting her trying and desires
In response to her every vocalized “Yrr-owl!”
Plus, Gigi has learned to hop with precision into our
Unexpecting, cradle-embraces on our chests or
On our laps. ...Like a toddler, she
Will then set herself, intent to show her affection,
Laying her head on our shoulders by our necks,
To give and to receive hugs. They are amazing,
Such sweet hugs for a couple with no children near!
She exudes a telepathy, locking her soft eyes’
Sight to my own, so fixed, while I relay the extending
Of my heart’s love to hers, dear girl,
Almost angelic, always coming (with what feels
Like true compassion) close to my sad moments,
Patient and never considering fear.
Oh, little girl, Gigi, you brought love
In the door with you
And your hugs will live longer than time.
********. **********. **********. *********
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/2020
IDENTITY
I just want to be who I am, or even to know
Living this modern life is like being in armour
True freedom, now merely a fading memory
Following the script like a long running drama
But perhaps something out of this might grow
Personality, misshaped by many laws and rules
So what then, does individuality mean anyway
There’s a chest of treasures locked up inside me
That in this age, may never see the light of day
In our millions we’re numb, and acting as fools
Can it even be safe to release the unknown beast
That prowls and explores this unexpecting world
It might be a cute little mewling thing that blinks
And if threatened, huddles like a flag that’s furled
But it still deserves it’s freedom at the very least
Yet maybe this is mere hesitancy and speculation
The first challenge I must face, is to know myself
To be embraced for what I am, or could become
In life’s mission to discover all that hidden wealth
And to have caused at least a minor perturbation
Unkept promises are hard blows
that hit the psyche unexpecting.
Unkind words are harsh slashes
that rip through the essence undeserving.
The mind becomes the fire in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flares.
Uncontrolled, it boils the blood,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The scorching words stoke the fire,
the smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the disbalanced conscience.
Words rise like Sphinx from toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of forgiveness signals.
The mind turns into volcanic inferno,
erupting fiery lava called anger to flow
in torrents of blistering apathy,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazes a furrow in the timid life.
Beautiful to look at;
Glittering, shiny, chilly, sparkling, frosty, freezing ice.
Gently it started, a light mist descending from a leaden sky.
Looking harmless, clinging to grasses, roofs, roadways and branches,
Soon covering power lines, getting thicker and heavier,
It glimmered in the evening light.
Darkness obscured its total take-over,
Until the lights went out!
Cold came creeping into our homes,
While flickering candlelight barely showed us the way.
Suddenly a shot blasted outside!
No- it must be Ft. Knox,
Shooting cannons in the middle of the night.
The whole house shook and rattled.
Large branches, weighed down by ice,
Broke off the troubled maple trees,
Crashing onto the unexpecting rooftop.
One is followed quickly by another, and another.
Knowing to stay away from windows and glass doors,
Yet we want to see what is happening.
Apprehensive we peep out into the wild, yet still night.
Still only until another utility pole crashes.
Ice pellets slowly change into fluffy snowflakes.
By daylight we find a wondrous sight.
Hard ice covers the snow, more ice under that snow.
The world has become an ice palace.
Doors are barred by fallen, broken branches,
Yet still, we admire the icy beauty we see.
Even the smallest limb is coated with the frozen substance.
The world we see looks fresh, clean and white,
Sunshine turns it into a magic winter wonderland.
Ice- it has the power to stop the flow of life
As it is, freezes transforms, and redecorates.
It has the strength to pull down poles, power lines and trees alike,
One tiny, freezing drop at a time,
It grows until it evolves into a mighty, unstoppable force.
The depth of life
Mystery having a history
Untold story
The life of one person
Hardships
Beaten words that were never torn
Angry thorns
Unexpecting eruptions within
Approaching storms
Names beyond given
No appreciative centerpiece
Remaining strong and holding one’s own
Fought individual battles and wondered about victories
Newer complaining
Silent voice within the heart
Fortress
A story no one knew
But no matter what, head up and pursue
Man up
The moment was always the place
No pause
Smiled through circumstances
Tacked situations head on
No choice just responses
Actions
Still here
It will always be
Chosen to survive
Learning experiences in strive
A story told
Bold and behold
Survival chances
Beware of whats in front of you
Not everything appears true
Walking around sugar town
Sweet old lady living up the hill
Offers you a drink and slip in a pill
Invites you in when your feeling sick
Then kills you dead for her fix
Careful who you trust
Suspicion is a must
Walking around sugar town
A group of kids play in the park
A closer look hits you hard
Misguided youths throwing knives
With no respect for passerby
Things you see
You cannot believe
Walking around sugar town
Security gaurd on street patrol
Mysteriously walking too slow
Looking for an unexpecting victim
To hit on the head and steal their things
Open your eyes and look hard
What you see will break your heart
Walking around sugar town
Young lovers cuddle on a bench
Second looks witness needles stretched
Not playing an innocent game
Zombified idiots in drug shame
Dont always think its all nice
Naughtiness will take you by surprise
Walking around sugar town
GOTCHA!
Poem written for GOTCHA Poetry Contest, Mystic Rose, sponsor, July 25, 2025
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise,
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art !"
With a flick of fate, the chubby cherub archer draws back his bowstring,
haplessly and happily straight for my unexpecting heart.
Cupid does not his dart maliciously aim
but rather with whimsical, childlike fancy.
With an impish grin, he lets his dart fly,
stirring the dust of my dreams and wishes.
With expectancy whirling like confetti in the soft wind of fate,
I am poised, torn between the known and the unknown.
"Oh, Cupid. Do you know your arrows blur the edges of my reality,
turning my mundane world into a magical one?"
“Oh, dear poet,” he bemuses, “I aim my darts not just at hearts
but also at the essence of what it means to wonder."
“Oh, dear Cupid! How I love when wonder sparks my creativity,
transforming the ordinary into astonishment.”
“I gotcha!” he proclaims. “May your words strike your readers’ hearts
like my arrows.”
“Oh,Cupid! “*you’re an impetuous, knavish lad.Sometimes I’m rather somber,
for the weight of my imagination drives me quite mad! What am I to do?”
“Remember,” he continues, “when Cupid’s arrow aims for you,
there isn’t much you can do!"
*Note: "You’re a knavish lad”, are William Shakespeare’s words about Cupid, not mine.
I am a man born with two hearts,
So I have an excuse...
To love everything in twos,
From beautiful women to mixing top-shelf booze.
I even drive two cars,
One for 'to' and one for 'fro',
And for my education,
It's two degrees, wouldn't you know?
But one day I was challenged,
By a woman that was born with three!
Her mode of operation is quite different,
As observed by me...
She avoided the number as she lived,
Raising a total of four kids.
And for marriages, she had five,
By many unexpecting guys.
When flowers she would put on display,
It would be six or seven, but never three.
And many Gods she would praise,
Was she indeed mocking me?!?
I began to realize how silly it is,
So I now roll as if my two hearts are one.
And I feel as if...
My life has just begun!
22-September-2021