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Best Poems Written by Cherl Dunn

Below are the all-time best Cherl Dunn poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

The Broken Doll

Walls of silence hold,
 Me prisoner,
The child held within,
 Cries out for release.
Relative solitude comforts, 
Not the tortured soul,
Inward coiling withdrawing,
 Deep inside. 
Shedding its outer skins,
 Protective
Layer thus preserving its,
 Inner being.
Innocents shroud lies in ruins.
Gentle spirit, cast aside wings,
 Damaged appendages.
The fallen angel kneels in,
 Shame,
Shadows before mankind.
Unanswered prays rest upon,
 Deaf ears.
Muted sobs, echo on stilled,
 Winds breath.
Hardening to stone, the
 Chilled heart
 Reflects frozen repose.
Forgotten amongst mine own,
 Kindred,
Childhood symbolizes a betrayed,
 Victim’s refuge.
Small fragile hands reach out,
 Into nothingness,
Hollow space grasping into,
 Oblivion.
Chained shackles twist,
 Imaginations warped view,
Somber tones cloud troubled,
 Thoughts.
Amidst life's trials, I'm aimlessly,
 Adrift,
Without any form of stability.
I, alone remain shambles,
 Wreckage.
Displaced and damaged,
Beyond repair.
A broken doll thrown away,
By those who should have, 
Cared for her the most.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

The House of Spirits

It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
Witchery or voodoo’s domain, it is a place of salvation for
Spiritual challenged, listen to the beautiful music they make,
Singing within this their walled cage of brick and mortar, these
Ethereal victims lost.
Here in peace they wait for the light to find them, a waiting chamber,
Of the lords misstep souls, those whom walked off the righteous path,
Yet are not without redemptions wanton of need.
Wanders of limbo’s astral plain, seekers whom roam blindly until 
Finding a doorway threshold, then crossing over, into this the house
Of spirits.
A corridors slender passageway, a way stations layover for those tired
And weary travelers to rest until their final journey’s end comes for them,
Sanctuaries power house of the supernatural.
Behind these red doors dare not the mortal flesh clasp the gilded knockers,
For within are things of the unspoken variety, creature protectors waiting at
Bay for the stray intruder to wander forth upon this sacred ground.
Angels kindred brethren whom seek out evil, destroyers patrolling the
Darker shadows for night stalkers whom wish to feast upon the forsaken.
But light’s white power is a mightier force to be reckoned with, and vanquished
Will the devils spawn into the depths from which they came, into the bowels
Of hell shall these demons be thrown into the blackened pit from which they came?
In the twilight’s ethereal hour, a mid-ways breaking point between light and dark,
A shimmering glow strikes this standing watch tower of abandonment’s forgotten,
And heaven’s flood gates are opened unto them, calling these the lost upwards
Towards nirvana and at last know true peace.
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents.
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.

BY; CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

Black Magic Woman

Madame Mistress, ebonies princess,
Southern comforts golden jewel,
A golden beauty down south does dwell.
She hides many secrets beneath her,
Glittering mask of mystery's mystic spells.
A dark priestess is this Cajun queen,
Black widows magic women,
Known as Ms. New Orleans.
In her crimson gown, trimmed by
Velvet's purple hues, she smiles
Behind her white lace fan.
A beguiling angel is she the devils
 Own kindred.
The voodoo queen of the swampy delta,
Ruling over the shadow demons,
Whom guard the everglades.
Underneath fancy face and social grace,
Lies the misbegotten heart of a
 Witches soul.
Here the trumpets sound at,
La Carnival as minstrels stroll,
Down Bourbon Street with rhythmic,
Precision's precise step.
Come join in celebrations grand parade,
The Maude Gra. Where anything goes,
Here things are forgotten as the sun rises,
This grand lady of beauty's legacy's charm.
Presses one finger to her redden lips,
Speaking not more than a hushed whispers
Sigh carried across bayou.
Thus does the Spanish moss weep, for
Those lost souls swallowed whole,
Beneath nights dark covenant of death.
Ghostly images walk the muddy side shores,
Phantom spectators existing as prisoners,
Trapped in limbos web, a thin fine line
Between the living and the dead.
Beware lone travelers, those for whom,
Seek mysteries glamor and mystic,
Of the southern by ways.
All are welcome to taste our spicy
Hospitality.
Yet beware pay homages respect,
To Mz. New Orleans, she after all takes
Great care of her own.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

The Vampire

For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Of blood.
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
Of mankind.
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been 
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania. 
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

It's a Mad Hatter's World

A spinning world globe just set off the center of its axis pole,
Welcome to the mad-mad Hatter’s topsy-turvy upside down
Wonderland, just another inside out hole where bunnies ware
Waist coats and fancy pocket watches!
Empty tea cups, please move down one place, as this riddler
Of whimsical nonsense speaks volumes in sheer delights oration,
In his long tuxedo top hat and tails, a gentleman amusement maker,
Whom knows how to put on the Ritz with classical distension.
It’s a mad, mad Hatter’s world after all isn’t?
The ring master of the human imagination, a carnival clown
Of wonderland but here in the mad hatter’s world of wonder,
Nothing is what it seems to be?
What a mystical place of total non-sense, just through the 
Looking glass of realities rippling pool, here time is just relative,
And the mad hatter of poetic slapstick, tips his hat to all those
Whom fall through seeking a retreat from realities harsher view
On life!
Times law breaker tossing his hat high up into the air, a gentleman
Time bandit living on a no time limits schedule, but whatever sets
His fancy at that moments frozen vision!
Fancy’s fanciful character living on the edge of the glass sill of 
The queen’s judgement, off with his head, existence’s rebel
Whom smiles at the Cheshire cat with an amusing antidote,
Mind your own business you noisy little pussy-cat!
A time juggler with flying tea cups and saucers, a mischievous fellow
Spewing out poetic illogical limericks as a caravel carney, waggishly
Winking at the innocent soul!
Wizard word magician of this outrageous kingdom, left off the hook
And out of control, click, clock Mr. Tick, Tock, this grandmaster of 
Illogical time, but the mad hatter does it with such a blaze of savvy’s
Pointe savoir-faire as he bows hat in hand unto each new arrival.
Listen can’t you hear this artistic fellow rat-tap, tapping at the
Thin glass of the tilting mirrored timepiece, laughing out loud
As another young Alice slides down the rabbit hole of
 The timeless.
On the stage of life, a royal flush takes it all, as the queen of the 
Nivea heart screams off with head one last time, the hatter bows
Low unto she of noble birth, then laughingly rides off into the vast
Horizon of wonderland, waving maybe another time your majesty!
Oh time juggler tossing fifty-two pick high up into mid-air,
As the cards spin wildly with an unearthly mystical tone, 
Whistling this gentleman gypsy, catches one by one in a 
Shuffled deck, slides them within his vest pocket, and smiles
Slyly at Alice, shall we forth my dandy gal, for there is much to
See and experience here in this realm called wonderland!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO ANDERA HOPE YOU LIKE KIDDO

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

Always a Princess

In my father's eyes, I'll always be his princess,
No matter how old I've grown, he still sees
His little girl, dancing across the invisible stage
Before him.
A living Cinderella in miniature form, whom
Will never grow up, and thinks her dad is prince
Charming, and the strongest man on earth.
Cradling within this wondrous heart, is devotion’s
Biggest fan, the man I call my father, he's protector,
Comforter, and the everlasting image, of the perfect
Man that I idolize.
No wizard's wand or sword, holds more magic
Than his tender words of wisdom, as I stroll
Down the yellow brick road of life, I'm his
Dorothy, and he is, the Wizard of my oz.
Oh Papa, you've instilled the wonderment
Of this world within me, and I know, no matter
Where I roam, he shall always be a part
Of me.
You've always said, no matter how old I get
That within thy heart, a princess remains, timeless, 
Ageless, as if Alice, hidden behind the looking glass, 
Peering through from wonderland, magical world.
Perfection's cherished rose, whom never loses it's
Petals, but blossoms nourished by loves fertile soil,
That only a father's faith can provide.
I'll always be his princess, no matter what bad
Choices I may make in life, I know he'll pick me
Up and smooth out the wrinkles in my velvet gown,
Wiping away my tears, turning them instantly into diamond
Shards, and letting me dance away again, clapping
For this his darling princess. 
So let the musical waltz of life, play forever forward,
As I lightly tip toe, across destiny’s ballroom floor.
My dancing card remains eternally full, written within
One name stands out, it is yours dearest sweet man.
He is after all my prince charming, and I am
His dearest little girl, and of coarse in his eyes
Always his little princess.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

Autumn On Fire

God’s inspirational napalm set ablaze upon the trees of autumn,
Welcome to the ascension of the fall season, bursting forth onto
The leaves once evergreen.
Colors of crisp snapping, auburn reds, fires aglow oranges, and
Subdued darken browns to contrast the mixtures blending, created
By the masterful hands of a higher powers creativity.
Tender timbers mutated into a glorious display of light and color,
Splashing the palette array of natural beauty.
Blessed in magnificence the lord hushes and stills, the mortal heart,
As inspiration captures the poets ink pen to write,
Upon the empty parchment page.
Strolling lovers huddle together, beneath a wondrous tapestry,
A canopy of leaf petals, that descend as it is caressed
By a chilling fall breeze.
Whispering softly in each others ears tender words
Sweet nothings, youth in utter splendor wrapped
Embraced in loves devotional shawl of emotions.
Behold vows promises of perfection uniting
These spirits of fall, united against the winter
Winds forever more.
Cold and slain lay the roses of summer, yet within
The wild heart of innocence, the flame of desire
Shall not flicker out, nay it lives strong in the young,
A blossom of delicate distention is true loves flower.
Oh in timeless remembrance as years will pass,
And only one shadow remains between these two
Souls united joined in life as one. 
Shall beyond another single silhouette awaits,
Tracing these burnt ambers of autumn from long ago,
 In cascading showers of melted colors of memory.
In angels tears a gentle rain does fall, yet a smile
Crosses the face of this eternal love, a blessings
Promise in one word spoken, always.
God’s inspirational napalm set ablaze upon the trees of autumn,
Welcome to the ascension of the season, bursting forth onto
The leaves of the evergreen.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

The Prince of Purple

Beneath the opal white moon, the crying doves shed their precious tears,
Causing the purple rain to fall, melting at the lavender notes of musical dreams,
Camelot’s illusionary ivory towers of brilliant colors, seemingly fades unto the
Violet shades of gray, as the minstrel’s music grows silent for the last time!
The pied piper’s fluted guitar, remains stilled in the silence of a generations
Mind, the world weeps in fuchsia stained technicolor for their slain prince
Of rock in roll, plays now within the heavenly band beyond, rocking the
Ages, lost amongst the spiritual stardust from which creations mystical
Legacies are born!
In reverences musical temple hall of fame, another name is added 
Amongst the universal giants, that have crisscrossed humanities 
Triumphant vast historical tides, rolling ever onwards within the waves
Of the timeless rebel, jamming with the beating rhyme of the 
Human soul forever!
Gentleman’s coterie of lace and satin’s refinement, is this instrumental
Conductor strumming, at the inner finite strings vibrating within the
Harmonic orchestra of an eclectic mind, a whispering dreamer whom
Heard an expressionistic tempo hidden within the color purple,
And thus wept in the violet rain!
A flickering candle quivers within the moistures clouded wake,
The concert master stands alone at the center of the musical hurricane,
Untethered from his slave marked chains, the band leader strikes against
His podium of freedom at last, rock-n-rolls final creshando, echoes
Within the winds of destiny, carried upon the voices of his generation!
Legends burnt ashes rise above this fiery phoenixes’ resurrection, 
For in truths resolve this singing firebird’s melody, shall play forever 
Onwards, as the doves cry in flights eternal soaring!
Where has the musical voyager gone, the visionary fuchsia master,
The soul captain hailing the distant shores of rock nirvana,
By playing mystical notes of color illusions, on the blank canvas
Of the horizons musical sheets, beyond mortality’s everlasting
Window of social acceptance!
Let the elegant birds of peace fly forth, with their wings appendages
Extended upon the breezes of this artistic grand master, set blazing
In lavender flames, quenched only the falling of the purple rain!
But even then harken, listen my generations of rock fans,
Can you not hear the wailing guitar, of the musical force, known
 As prince the visionary revolutionary!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

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

Details | Cherl Dunn Poem

Superbowl Sunday

There’s a new American Holiday, guess what it is my football loving friends,
It’s a classical sport of champions, where helmet headed, game geared
Warriors challenge raw brawn against skill’s swiftness, to conquer and win,
With screaming fans, cheering on these gladiators’ in this deadly modern
Arena of clashing titans!
On Super Bowl Sunday, the pigskin faithful gather, around the big colored screen
Altar of entertainment, divided team factions residing on living room sectionals,
Ready to cheer for their favorite NFL sporting champions!
  Golden Trophies of victory’s honored bound glory, to conquests shinning
Athletes whom have surpassed all rivals in competition field of battle,
On this sacred Super Bowl Sunday! 
Endurance's brutal game of physical strength and agilities stamina,
Pit raw natural force against skills mental intelligence, placed upon
Each line of defensive prowess exudes bravery’s finest, producing
Distinguished, and extraordinary ability’s athletic mark of excellence!
Lit are the flames of American glory, as flash bulbs flicker from every
Fan filed level of this modern televised colosseum, above fly’s the
Goodyear blimp, flashing messages of sportsmanship to millions
Aboard!
Within thousands of U.S.A. homes views watch with awes quiets hush,
Awaiting for the next plays excitement to take place on this massive
Green turfed stage, locked gazes of stern concentration as hearts beat
With accelerations thrilling anticipation, the rooms explosive force erupts,
With one words announcement, field goal!
It’s the half times rock party festival, while tunes of fans recover,
For the next thrill ride, to victory’s finest moments of achievements
To occur, for legacy’s future generations state of remembrance recall,
In yesteryears to come, fathers unto sons, and mothers unto daughters,
Will say, “Yes, I saw that play, and I’ll never forget it either!”
At the final battle line drawn the rival warriors take to their marked
Positions, fierce animalistic growling is heard as these diehard gladiators,’
Prepare for the ultimate collision point of no return, again anticipations
Hush returns, the silence is deafening, as a nations heart rate is set
On maximum overloads racing pace!
What earthquake shake could rattle more severely at a continental
Seam, as the underdog team wins the final championship, the victory’s
Golden trophy is placed within the grasp of these athletic giants,
Whom have proved themselves true winners once and for all!
There’s a new American Holiday, guess what it is my football loving friends,
It’s a classical sport of champions, where helmet headed, game geared
Warriors challenge raw brawn against skill’s swiftness, to concur and win,
With screaming fans, cheering on these gladiators’ in this deadly modern
Arena of clashing titans!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO: LINDA THE POET DESTROYER