Best Exasperating Poems
Let me set something straight -
Right here, right now!
Let me put India in the right perspective,
Let me banish some myths,
Some gross misconceptions,
And take you beyond elephants,
Sacred cows, snake charmers and yoga,
Beyond Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Taj Mahal,
To a civilization rooted for
over 5,000 years in the past
To a land rich - majestically rich -
In many cultures, customs and traditions,
In a bewildering variety of races,
Religions, languages and folk arts,
In a vibrant tradition of dance and music,
In religious festivals and traditional events,
In saints, sadhus, gurus and sages,
In gods, goddesses, munis and mahatmas,
In temples, palaces, shrines and monasteries;
I'll baby-steps you through a land
Of Vedas and Upanishads,
Of epic stories and incredible mythologies,
Of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita,
Through one of world's great spiritual sanctuaries,
Where religion is a way of life;
An overwhelming, complex land -
Its charm, its vitality and yes, its confusion,
Atonce alarming and enticing.
And that's the way India is:
Elusive, confusing, contradictory,
mysterious and exasperating!
Beyond easy description or analysis,
A phenomenal diversity of dress
and manners making one aware
of a different world -
A veritable fairyland!
No other country offers quite such
A spectacle of teeming masses that
continue to enrich the heritage of mankind,
Nowhere do the past and present
coexist in more colorful promiscuity -
An incomparable country,
Easy to love, hard to forget!
"There's only one India!" raved Mark Twain,
"A wonderland of fabulous wealth
and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags ..."
"The cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history,
The grandmother of legend and
The great grandmother of tradition."
This, indeed, is my country
Where I was born -
An Indian at heart,
An American in spirit!
Namaste!
Khuda Hafiz, Jai Ramji Ki,
OM Radhe Shyam, Sat Sri Akal,
Jai Hind!!
~Love letters to the sub continent
contest by cyndi MacMillan
If my mind were a war torn map and anxiety an invading force
A thorough search of my cerebrum would avail no remorse
Is there a hoard of grotesque assailants standing at the border
Or do I suffer from tensions dispensed by some mental disorder
None the less I attack first with nothing but the element of surprise
No weapon, no armor, no countrymen, just a crumbling enterprise
I swing my sword in the direction of the pale ghost filling the night
Cutting to ribbons the notion that I released a lost dog in the fight
Misfortune is mine as the battle rages in the back of my optical lobe
Fixated on the fact that there is a fixed fight at the end of the road
Without negligence I execute the figure who seems to be orchestrating
The darkened world in which I have been unsuccessful in navigating
With a cough of blood his mouth released a final exasperating word
A man cannot win when he cannot escape falling on his own sword
It took years of tears, torture, trials and tribulations for me to see
Thine own enemy I could not circumvent was me and my “anxiety”
Topics of conversation seem to change as we approach maturity.
As kids we talked of love - now it's lumbago and social security!
It once was enlightening to simply discuss the weather,
But now it's a litany of their ills when oldsters get together!
When a teen we bragged about that first voluptuous kiss.
Now all we can do is talk about such and lamentably reminisce!
Girls whispered amongst themselves and cast a furtive glance,
At the high school "hunk" pining for a torrid romance!
In our courting days, sweet talk we'd whisper in the other's ear.
Now it seems we must yell to be heard unlike in yesteryear!
As married folks we debated about money, bills and kids,
Exasperating table-pounding sessions where we'd flip our lids!
Seems that no matter where senior brethren congregate,
With each other their aches and pains they must enunciate,
Discussing the woes of arthritis, phlebitis and laryngitis,
Bronchitis, bursitis, gingivitis, dermatitis and gastritis!
I reckon I could simply say, "Gee, you're looking swell!"
Then perhaps upon these gloomy topics they might not dwell.
I enjoy repartee with folks about religion, politics and sports,
But talk of doom and gloom leaves me sorta outta sorts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Further days are passing, lapsing long
Upsetting to unbecoming
At dawn, always loneliness undaunting
That continues on...
By inward breaking in
Will it ever come to fruitions end
The offsetting, untiming, to complete unnerving
This I ask myself, as the sun and I are quickly becoming
Sinking, drowning friends
Deep into each others night of nexus, merciless and unrelenting
The drag of it, an exasperating friction exhausting
By this not forgetting, beneath the spotlight of a taunting moon
As too soon, again the beginning
Of, the into giving
Another phase unto going through
And hence, once again to my own undoing
Upon this orb I do not move, but yet I am spinning, drifting
With a consequence left of, more of nothing, more
But, creeping cracks eroding, what once was forever yours
Of this tattered soul, that now must face its first inquisition heartbreaking
About a love in a tilted world, serendipitous it seems, only when it's still
Or, a branding upon a human’s fragile heart
With "why's" which one will never be fully comprehending
Or rather a hope that may never even be fulfilled
I am losing you again
White, oh your skin, whiter than pearls…
I sit here, trying not to stare,
Serene you are, as you lie in your bed,
How awful could agony become?
I am losing you again
Chapped and faded your divinely drawn lips…
Opaque, the spark in your eyes, it no longer exists,
Uttering out the words, "you had my heart from the start,"
Lament, your words are, as your lips part,
Does God really need another angel by His side?
Exasperating, your paralysis, suffocates me…
Abashed I awake, from a nightmare,
Throbbing, I almost submerged your sheets with gasoline,
Yelping,
Oh poor baby, you are so soggy from the chemo,
Undying, everlasting we are, hang on my love,
Rusting your skin, your sickness is so ruthless, to kill you,
Could I really break the wall my pride has built?
Angst haunted me as I listened to the mournful,
Notes of the saddest symphony existing…
Could I please place a red rose on your mahogany sepulcher?
Endless our love is, as a paroxysm of pain,
Rushed through my blood,
Amid the purple phlox, and the emerald elms,
Waves of distress, overwhelm,
As I realise how your anguish was so true,
Yesterday, I wished I had died instead of you…
Where we go the road is very rough
To survive we must be very tough
Do not expect the barriers to ease
The upward climb is not designed to please
There are trials and troubles along the way
Exasperating situations every day
But we can not turn our back and run
Nor sit down and say our work is done
The temptation to stop is very strong
At times the road seems just too long
We travel it seems at snails pace
And we never seem to get any place
Somewhere I'm sure the road will end
We will travel around the final bend
There we will rest the tired and weary bones
Thankful that we did not walk alone
That idiotic and exasperating, disturbing Rosanne Barr,
walking around gaudy and tasteless, acting like a star.
Blatantly obvious no sane person should be employing,
such an earsplitting voice, so obnoxious and annoying!
CLERIHEW CONTEST Poetry Contest
The Name Foresakes Me
July 21, 2018
The curse of an
inflated imagination.
An escarpment of thought
in a blistering mind.
An invasion of insolence
amidst a tempest-tossed
cacophony
of mewling memories.
A throat restricting,
heart galloping,
and eyes trembling.
A voiceless scream for help.
A crouching body
in cold defeat.
A quivering being,
gasping for an
exasperating breath.
Then, a ferociously seized breath -
transplanted
from an enchained soul,
gives birth to grave apathy.
A silent tear dissipates
into an endless ocean
of trepidation.
I had the joy when I was younger
Of seeing my three baby daughters born,
The first in the summer of 1985
It made me go weak at the knees,
It was the most awesome thing that I had ever seen
The miracle of birth, is a precious event
And watching and helping them grow
Was the best experience I've ever had,
The most fun times and exasperating yes.
Then some years later in 2010
In a new life and love
I was expecting another daughter again
And that was magical too
But in the hours during labour she lost her fight
And without warning out went her light,
It tore us apart
And broke our hearts and every time I shut my eyes
I am back in the room and I am holding her in my arms,
So precious and beautiful only lacking one thing,
That thing called breath.
After a time, about a year, we tried again and now I have a son
And he is amazing in everyway, he makes me laugh
And drives me around the bend
But I know he's another miracle in the end.
And each day is different and challenging
But I would never give up on him for anything.
08/07/2018
My muse is like a carnival,
a celebration of kaleidoscope colors,
a dazzling display of light and sound.
Circling slowly until I feel dizzy.
Will I crumple and fall?
A house of mirrors
with peculiar shapes and sizes
evoking flustered feelings
and contorting my cognitive map.
Which avenue shall I follow?
A tunnel of love where my mind
lingers on the ways emotion
plays with my heart, at first
soothing, then exasperating.
Liberating or beleaguering?
A house of horrors where
I live out my darkest thoughts
and flex my remarkable resilience
to the beckoning of the dark side.
Can I be truly free?
The roller coaster is exhilarating
and sets my mind free again
the ups and downs of life and living
and the fear of death
Is that so wrong?
Titillating tilt-a-whirl,
multitudinous perspectives
twirling one side then another
seeing with curious fly eyes.
Am I, or my muse, to blame?
I hear her
When, in stillness – peace,
She surrounds me with her promises,
Light, mist on the morning, hope
Lifting away all the doubt, the darkness
With a feeling, a soul stirring scream
I hear her
Beating, in rhythm – harmonizing,
She echoes in reflections of sweet joy,
Soft, erasing all the night’s stardust dreams,
Inspiring me to give my best, my heart
To the moments of laughter, the scream
I hear her
Dancing, in tune – waltzing,
Breathing hope through the spirit,
Singing as the leaves whisper, falling
Autumn remembering summer’s hesitation
To hide behind the beautiful, blood curdling scream
I hear her
When, at noon – cloudless skies
Embrace the earth, tempting, satisfying
Reassuring the soul that together with time
We can arrive at our destination, our finish
Pouring out forever in the spirit’s the scream
I hear her
Gifting my heart with light, intense
Feelings so gentle, so giving, so willing
To agree with second thoughts, the secret
Hopes flooding, flowing through the brilliance
A love that agrees, passionate, a scream
I hear her
Like melancholy and memory, singing
The rich, cool alto – then soprano, notes
Pure gold, God’s voice pleading with us all
Nature, forever – endless treasures of hope
Foreseeing the everlasting life, in the wildness of a heart
– the scream, fading into destiny, graceful
Like a peace that can’t be seen or touched
The scream is anxious and floods the hopes
With winds that blow through the oaks
Satisfying the blossoms, the laurels and pines,
Preparing hearts for reality’s chime, the vibrant highs
Determined by the blood curdling scream of sunset’s trembling
Blending with endless feelings…
Blessing away the scream’s repeating over the ridges,
Soundless, yet – still resonating such an ache
Fleeting heartbreak, yearning for the peace that comes
With the dawn, the serenity that takes
Away the scream’s raspy voice, it’s exasperating grating
The scream… it drains the wish from the dreamer
Like the autumn weaves warmth
With hope and grace,
Inspirations in temptations of laughing scarlet,
Blazing tangerine and glorious gold,
Soothing away the darkness as beautiful
Casts its shadow over my spirit,
A dream reflecting peace that rouses me to remember
Where there was a choice, reserved for joy,
Light was the sustaining power –
Arriving in my unwritten absence,
When bold flames of passionate bronze
Faded into the summer and reminded me why,
Why I was like the dwindling moon, sliding beneath
Stardust dreams, coloring the night
In ebony history – grimly waning ways,
Soothing away the fog of yesterday and creating
Intimacy in the bonds of laughter and compassion,
The seclusion so liberating, smiling into the moments,
Erasing the black and putting away the smallest tasks
Excusing melancholy and blaming dusk
For its exasperating way of giving in to doubt,
Listening to the enchantress, lunation
Who boldly praises the nocturnal memories,
Roaring and seeking temptations,
So wise and wonderful they cling to the flesh,
Like sweat shimmering and sliding,
Sticking to the moments in an abiding grace –
Is memory so brave as the reflection it gave,
The intimacy between two echoes,
Night and day, yesterday, the past – weaved
Into the present moment, erasing the wistful wish
Who dreams light yet focuses on the night
And remembers only to agree with autumn’s brave kindness,
The memory like a taunting of two thoughts,
One of love and one of sorrow, each with their own fears
Their very own tears and so many trusted years
When everywhere there was light
Poured out on endless stirrings of what it is
To give in to the past and its spirit,
The blessings rising like a mist across the mountains,
The moments when life fades in sterling sands
Visions of kindness when life is truth
And life binds the days with praise,
An aching praise who restores and renews,
Invites the beautiful to breathe
And the sadness to grieve…
This is the past and it’s healing will give hope
To the ones who remember
A clinging ache, meant to break…
Yes, there is victory in the faith who believes
God wins – in the end, GOD WINS!
I am sitting in hovel writing nothing
For the hovel has taken every last drop of energy.
Hey, wait. Is that an ant?
An ant in the winter?
What is she doing?
I get out my magnifying glass of course.
She is wearing a backpack full of something that has a sweet smell.
Pardon me, I say. Can I have a tiny taste of that?
You would take the food out of the mouth of sixty ants? She asks me.
Lucky that I talk ant.
I back away.
Trixie walks over and kicks my hand.
You are horrible! She tells me.
I had forgotten I was supposed to wake her when I got up.
There is nothing more exasperating than an angry muse.
Thought you’d write something without me?
Well, yes, um….. I am stammering now.
We kind of have a little rule.
She whisks away and stomps off.
Out of all the muses in all the imaginations
in all of the universes, I developed a female muse?
Hmmmmmm I have to ponder that.
But not right now.
The ant is doing a tango and her backpack just flew off.
What is it about two people holding hands
That says so much about life
First of all it says love sweet love
But when you see couples in their golden years holding hands
We smile and say awww!
It means after a lifetime of ups and downs
These people are still in love, are still the best of friends
All too often, we lose that loving connection
When the trials and tribulations that confront us each day
Put love on the back burner and we forget about the one thing
That brought us together in the first place... love
Try to remember that feeling and how overwhelming it was
How we lost our appetite, how we couldn't focus on things
Exasperating yet the most glorious feeling we've ever felt
Unfortunately we can lose that as we age
To be replaced by a more mature kind of love
But OH... that first glance, that first kiss, that first embrace
The first time someone says, “I love you!”
Nothing can match that glorious moment
We find ourselves wishing we could relive those joyous moments
But they are replaced by a mature love
Because to maintain that youthful exhilaration
Would certainly make it difficult to carry on a normal existence
Oh the memories, thankfully we have them
What is it about two people holding hands
That says so much about them
First of all it says love and usually young love
But when you see couples in their golden years holding hands
We smile and say awww!
It means after a lifetime of ups and downs
These people are still in love, are still the best of friends
All too often, we lose that loving connection
When the trials and tribulations that confront us each day
Put love in the back seat and we forget about the one thing
That brought us together in the first place... love
Try to remember that feeling and how overwhelming it was
How we lost our appetite, how we couldn't focus on things
Exasperating yet the most glorious feeling we've ever felt
Unfortunately we lose that to a degree as we age
To be replaced by a more mature approach to love
But OH... that first glance, that first kiss, that first embrace
The first time someone says, “I love you!”
Almost nothing can match that glorious feeling
We find ourselves wishing we could relive those joyous moments
But thankfully they are replaced by a mature love
Because to maintain that youthful exhilaration
Would certainly make it difficult to carry on a normal existence
But oh the memories, thankfully we still have them
© Jack Ellison 2015