Best Clapping Poems
When we abide in restful quietude,
divine energy gridlines come alive,
held still with vibrancy and fortitude,
causing nectar to drip from soul’s bliss hive.
There is no mystery in words we speak,
being simply devout intent of heart,
wishing to be still to get a sneak peek
at sparks that cause bliss ignition to start.
Though the seeker who seeks does not exist,
heart’s desire emoted needs a response
which it receives, manifest as a mist,
throb of bliss magnetism, held in love’s sconce.
The aspect of us entwined with the whole,
is imbibed in heart as whispers of soul.
Ooooh wow...a nice classy fortified wine dressed in a milky white dress. Shimmering for all to see. Injest not the erosive clatter of a purple frog. As it is far to dangerous. One may end up quacking. Or shivering in a bikini on a desert floor at three am. After midnight loopholes are often embellished with sounds so one can use a curly stick to jump into and over the many plates who arrive with handbags edged with carefully extracted silver. Who sounded the hunting horn of Thor? Not I said the fourth dimensional rune stone.I am happy to keep my inscription in this lovely luxurious box. Tinder cartoon it be not. I will wait for the wind. Erotic cries of Freya balancing on cymbal clouds. Exonerating falsities with wisps of sunlit hairs. Box shut. I marvel at the eighty nine acres of a moonlit street. Standing in a sinkhole. Sunken jag. Sunk not a beetroot though. They are very pleased in a jar whirling. Questionable is the beak of a large lobster flying. Often disguised. Disguises are unnecessary and unneeded and often the cackle of a candle can evoke a wandering godly orb. Orbital sound then. Oh good. Injestion and resulting in synchronized delivery in a swamp. Turds are often great for expulsion yet a turnip can be quite quick to move. So tread very carefully in a vegetable patch to avoid scarring. A mist in a mountain is a dew ball but free-falling with a thousand foot golden baseball bat is akin to holding a sword to a heavenly cloud to release acronyms and cones of very charismatic mind orbs. Viewed in orbicular centimetres and carried on the breezes by the caterpillar planes. Planting painting properly posted placed characterful colourful clown club visiting iron rays of dome. Sap seep swept sweltering swelling serpentry sent son. Sun. X and now I will have a sit down on the appropriate asteroid. And drink a large cup of air. Under Up under Up xxxxx
There was a farmer knew his vowels
And this is what he'd sing-oh
A E I O U
A E I O U
A E I O U
And sometimes W.
(And Y.)
There was a farmer knew his vowels
And this is what he'd sing-oh
A E I O CLAP!
A E I O CLAP!
A E I O CLAP!
And sometimes W.
(And Y.)
There was a farmer knew his vowels
And this is what he'd sing-oh
A E I CLAP CLAP!
A E I CLAP CLAP!
A E I CLAP CLAP!
And sometimes W.
(And Y.)
There was a farmer knew his vowels
And this is what he'd sing-oh
A E CLAP CLAP CLAP!
A E CLAP CLAP CLAP!
A E CLAP CLAP CLAP!
And sometimes W.
(And Y.)
There was a farmer knew his vowels
And this is what he'd sing-oh
A CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!
A CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!
A CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!
And sometimes W.
(And Y.)
There was a farmer knew his vowels
And this is what he'd sing-oh
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!
And sometimes W.
(And Y.)
I thought it was punishment and a job so un-cool
To have to clean erasers in the back of the school
Until I found out that it was a job meant for two
And the other eraser clapper was gonna be you.
I watched you take an eraser in your left hand and your right
Then clap them together with all of your might
Through that cloud of chalk I saw you smiling so bright
And wanted to clean erasers for the rest of my life.
First we clapped by ourselves then we clapped with each other
Didn’t bother us that in a cloud of chalk we smothered
When the clapping was done and the erasers all clean
We stayed in the back of the school house and learned some other things.
... one who claims he's heard
the sound of one hand clapping,
mad or just joking ...
Clap,clap...clap all clap,
Clap to help,self,clap,
Clapping found a therapy,
Span life,increasing to be happy,
Clapping just,improving BP,
Adjusting fine the FBC,
A contest in France,clapping-
Five hours to clap non stopping,
The contest itself a different,
The two winners also a different,
Right hand left clapped,
Left hand right clapped,
All winners,we call able,
This contest winners,two differently able,
Single hand,how to clap?
Other than the lap of that and this chaps,
In all angles self confidence,
Bringing mind oneness,
All want to live long,clap,
All say no,nothing to help,
Clap,gap,clap,gap,clap,clap!
Clap long to live long clap!!
Case unlocked
Lone Ranger came out in theatres
Awesome! Johnny Depp is so brilliant and wicked!
Painstaking regrets shown on stage
Pangs of depression cling to me like the Pirates of the Caribbean monkey
Iris turns blue...the pupils of many decrease in size
Never felt so much pride and happiness
Grasp vast grace
insanity clapping
just look
at
it
flapping ears
elephant wingd
wingding with
out
ing
bam bam bam
bambooing beams
brilliantly bashing blue
berrys burning cruise
connecting cooperation doom
eons elation elevates emotion
fusion focuses firmly finding
grindind greetings global go
holding hopes hands hyme
indigenous impairment
impacting icicles
justified jews
knews know
knees kneel
love longs
lasting
loud
mine
me
mean meanings mostly mumble
numbing nerves nimble necks
neon nights numbering none
nine ovaling opening odes
pheasant players plucked
question quaint qualms
reassured rest resting
testing times tiltings
under umbilicus
uncle umbrella
virtual vices
viral-'ing
victory
x ing
y
z
?
She walks, her high heels tapping
Has all the guys on the sidewalk rapping,
an audience dancing, clapping!
Turns her head and sees wots happening,
gets in the groove, thigh slapping!
I was only out to do some shapping!
Bought some heels and all the trappings,
me Mrs took one look and burst out laughing!
'She Walks', not for the contest!
Clapping
My thoughts march in a familiar band.
With music I heard so very long ago.
I listen for the beating of my heart.
Wondering if it is in sync?
The pattern of my life is woven
In a blanket of discoveries.
Knowing I can sing loud enough.
Wondering if others will listen.
I am strong, yet I am weak.
I am energized, but I am tired.
Trying to lead, willing to follow.
Trust has blended in with the pain.
How hard it is to separate the two.
Believing in myself, not old messages.
Stepping beyond apprehension.
People can watch and even applause.
Still it can be easy to find
The one with hands not clapping.
Heidi Sands
A fragrant vagrant isn't a bad thing it is wise to fill a dolly bag with silver coins. Drooping dressing doopy doggy draperies draped. Cabal cable carnage. How not so idyllic. And a two ton carriage of bees could never really do the twisting dance at a disco. Such is the heavyweight marathon. Stomp swim. Stomp stamp. Wow. Naivety varies amongst tidally adjusted soldier fauna. And be very wary of verification in a smoking tent. Tuna bubbles in a sandstone kebab. The all knowing grape warbles a systematic song of carbon brushes. Oh how the cushion swings with delight. An opposite apothecary of courteous van's. Archaically archived histories are unjustified in tones but mutational racks of fleas can form fresh ground and a format is neither a rock or a deity so therefore skip over fifty nine petals with agility. Erotically placed erosion of a salad dish with slippery large leaf legs. Hahahaha. Dreamy dandelions dangling doves. Clapping custard covering carpets. Xxxx combustion xxxx hahah xxxx
structures of our existence
rankle like fire spewed by a volcano
figurative patterns form by natures way
elements of destruction thought beautiful
mesmerize in formed flight...pathways labeled
“fixed” doesn’t matter where...up close
and personal through barriers of sight
textual wisdom reminders washed away by the
flow of existence slowly and surely making its way
stars pinpointed reflect glowing embers
sonic blasts never heard by anyone except trees
one tree falling, one hand clapping never more to
be heard across eternities of the ages.
Old? Oh, Goodness!
The old lady is jiggling the bed!
With her earphones on, bobbing her head,
Tipping her shoulders to front and back,
To up and down — her chest the same.
If the partial-paralysis hadn’t set in so
Eight months ago, she’d be in a quick go
Up jigging across the room to reel with
That Irish, God-praising banjo she listens to.
Old lady, her moves shaking the sheets off!
Quite a sight to see! And, too,
With the angels around her bed clapping in time
And tapping along to the beat of joy’s music.
Her physical therapist had said to keep moving,
“There’s no such word as ‘can’t’ and you
Aren’t old ’til you hit three digits,” which means,
The old lady tallies: she has three decades
Of swaying, twisting, bowing and turning to go!
———————————————————————-
(c) sally Young eslinger 1/18/221
Thanks be to God
the pale moon hovers
over the village at sunrise.