Best Excitable Poems
An old man sits peacefully in deep thought
Missing teeth, milky eyes . . . leathery skin
Wind Rider his name – a shaman
The young man seethes in anger
Strong, excitable . . . limbs in constant motion
Standing Bear his name – dangerous and violent
Smoke curls lightly into the sky
A sacred moment upon the plain
Old to the young – a story
The soft voice rises . . . catches the wind
There is a battle that rages within each of us
. . . two wolfs circle each other
One is evil . . . it’s spirit is angry filled with
jealousy, sorrow, greed, arrogance, guilt
resentment, inferiority, lies . . . ego
The other wolf is good --- it’s spirit is filled with
joy, peace love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy
generosity, truth, compassion . . . faith
Each wolf is strong and howls into the night wind
Yellow-red eyes flair, deep throated-growls, bared fangs
Breathing hard they attack
Wind Rider lifts his heavy head
Feels the sun . . . waits
Standing Bear thinking . . . finally asks
Who will win?
Wind Rider smiles
The one you feed
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David Meade
11/28/2014
Live Generously
Heavily laden boats, rectangular sails billowing
Under seas of low cloud, braving the fierce Yangtze;
Held between snowcapped mountains, earth and sky
Indistinguishable from steaming mist and rolling fog;
A long drawn straggle of Grey Geese plummeting down
From breathless, rarefied air to stumble awkwardly onto
Plum coloured mudbanks; an unrestrained, excitable
Cacophony of frenzied honking! Then wild monkeys
Provoked into howling each side of the river.
There, at the juncture with Longjin Brook, stilted homes,
Half-hidden by bamboo groves, crouch at the waters
Edge; maidens will come to wash clothes
Whirling wooden batons, twittering like golden swallows;
Fragrant wildflowers enhance their sweetness.
At drab, pale, first-morning light, fishermen cast
Nets over the cooling, placid blue waters;
The fish that swim here are said to be the finest
In the province.
We will exchange Black Carp and Blunt-Snout Bream,
Wrapped in moist bamboo leaf, for glutinous rice
With the clans that tend the terraces inside the fertile
River valley...
Does not the Emperor insist upon good commerce?
If you are dissatisfied as a peasant
You can take the ancient "old tea horse road"
And burden your back with heavy bales stacked high
On a rail;
The road will take you all the way from Zigui
To Tibet...or even further perhaps,
And sombre ravens will soar overhead and taunt your
Every footstep.
But I will remain where I am, in the
Village On The Water
Nestled deep within the Three Gorges;
My life, the endless horizon stretched beyond,
Held in balance as if it were Shaseng
The Shadow Play Stone;
And each new morning awakening to slow,
Chiming bells.
A love letter to mother nature
Nature's fury bellows
Reminding all exactly who's in charge,
Aggressive and noisy wind, mother's
personal thug, acting all big and large,
Though, for all her wrong doing and her faults,
she also does a lot of good, like the beauty always shown,
Filling this world with such awe and wonder,
I have quite a few examples of my own,
Daffodils start to poke their heads out after their
yearlong nap, perfect shades of orange and yellow,
The branches of ancient, wise trees
made to frantically smile and wave hello,
Graceful, beckoning hills ripple throughout
the land, expanding for all to see,
While excitable rivers splash, dance and play around
their rocks, gushing towards the sea,
From melting sunsets, gorgeous
blends of magenta and peach,
Skies filled with sparkling stars,
I so long to stretch my hand out too reach,
Although our mother may sometimes be callous and fickle, causing immense torment with storms and quakes, She also generously gifts us rainbows, forests and other sources of magic, despite how much she takes,
So when you're feeling like this world is nothing
but misery, pain and people's constant drones,
Just try to remember, every once in a while,
to take a look up from your mobile phones.
Nucleus at our core
Nerve cell that enables
Naked, excitable
Nimbly magnetising
Nourishing mind-body
Nonchalant yet vibrant
Neglect at your peril
Nine lives are bestowed upon a cat to live,
In this world full of danger we travel through.
None may escape the final time appointed to them,
Even the cat has it's last moment to breathe.
Living a life of adventure, demands some extra chances,
It's the curious cat, trapped, who really needs it.
Vain cats cleaning themselves on a slim, lofty ledge.
Excitable cats trying to catch the mysterious red dot.
Silly cats flipping their tails at a dog pack.
For the "Nine" contest.
They are not natural enemies,
nor were they ever meant to be ....
True, for a time when Faith was strong,
Science was bound, cowed, driven down--
until Science began its growth spurt:
by leaps it enlarged, pulsing, tumescent,
fed by Galileo, Copernicus, Newton, Pasteur,
Madame Curie and sweet old Einstein...
then came Oppenheimer with his Big Bomb.
Now Faith is scorned by most scientists,
an unreasoning as they see it--
closing their minds as tightly shut
as did the padres of the Inquisition:
they worship Reason, whilst claiming
believers drown in imagination, fantasies--
a Big Guy God, a soaring soul?
Show me! Prove it! they shout out
like excitable children. 'Reason be all!',
they exclaim fervently--yet...
yet sweet Science grew on the strong back
of Imagination, and real Faith loves Reason
like a sister, for we are the seeing ones,
and we are also the blind ones--
every single one of us....
We may hear God's whispers but then
are often deaf to the pleas of angels.
And what we think we know is never,
never enough-- we are always left
wanting....So we can repair a torn
and damaged heart but cannot open
it to love's incessant pulling....
Hark there kind sir, what brings you here?
A message for my lady, from Sir Lyle Gere
He penned these lines, for her gentle ear
Would you have this delivered, pray kind sir
Indeed I will, my word is my honour
Fear not kind sir, for tonight it will see her
What is it butler, who wrote me this letter?
Sir Lyle Gere, my lady, has requested a titter
Pray let me see, you insolent old timer
Your sarcasm ignites, especially at night sir!
Dear Lady Camilla, holder of my heart
My eternal hope is for our life to start
Would you be so kind to join me for a sitter?
High tea perhaps , around say four or a fiver?
Note down these words butler
And pray not a word from your sour lips
Much obliged kind Sir Gere
‘twill be my utmost pleasure
To join your company for a wee sitter
Until the morrow, I will treasure this letter
Will you now excitable lady Camilla
Lady of leisure, not a spoon thou hast washed
Shush, be quiet you insolent obscene butler!
Or what will you do, sweet Lady Camille
I will have you flogged for your foul mouth
And public it will be, just you wait and watch
My sincerest apologies, my dear Lady Camille
Never would your Ladyship do anything so vile
Oh you know me so well you old timer
Subtle am I? Oh surely my Lady!
My sensibilities are fragile, I hope he knows
I can only consume delicate h’ ors de oeuvres
Sweet desserts and cucumber sandwiches
He will be fooled my kind Camille, he will never suspect
Has he ever had the pleasure of seeing your lovely face?
No, our paths have never crossed butler, are you insinuating?
Never my dear Lady, I am a mere butler!
My thoughts matter not, my heart be ripped, I will deliver this chit
Come flood or disaster, your healthy smile is my bread and butter!
Aye your sarcasm is but fraught with the devil’s own tongue
But in my life you have been for so very long
I love your wit, you impudent satirist
You crafty shrew, slyly devious!
The tulips are too excitable, it is Winter here.
—Sylvia Plath (Tulips)
Like Tulip-beds of different shape and dyes,
bending beneath the invisible west-wind’s sighs.
—Thomas Moore
Roses propose to plentiful hearts, but my soul
rushes headlong into a waterfall of tulips.
—Quote by Poet
*Rachel Ruysch - most acclaimed tulip painter
of the Dutch Golden Era
ODE TO TULIPS
tulips a treat, with trippy leaves,
a fan over roses, a relief from grief.
this delightful Dutch-y sends me.
blotched sepals amidst pastels
of Spring, in perky pink,
purple pleasure, youthful yellow.
this dandy, fellow of a flower,
full of power to please, or Plath.
Sylvia’s sentiments, a nod
of regret, blinding, grieving.
opposite of my pet. my perpetual
love knots binding me in happiness,
romantic rendering sealed with a kiss.
vainglorious leaves sans thorns,
luscious darlings to stroke. effervescent
brilliance in a clear vase of water.
ostentatious presentation of Ruysch.*
florid field of treasures appeal to my eyes,
a sea of tulips as far as the eye can see.
Dutch-y draw near, your ship overflows,
in Miss Universe’s arms, cradled in a bride’s.
Ladies parade around in their skimpy bikinis
Looking for rich dudes driving Lamborghinis
I'm not rich but possess
Big biceps and chest
And more important is my excitable wee genie
© Jack Ellison 2015
I have not ceased—
I have not.
The things of the past
Do not rot, do not decay,
But I have not ceased—
I have not.
Once the pitchfork's prongs
Did so deafeningly twang,
I shriveled and cowered,
And found myself prancing
With the headless chickens.
Beneath the naysayer's feet
Are six cockroaches:
One for good luck,
One to ward spirits,
One to find holy favor,
One to initiate a curse,
One for venting,
One for simple disgust;
And the massacre was denied.
I stopped,
Trapped in translation,
A transparent body in an opaque cage;
Bleeding profusely on a sterilized table,
Compromising the hygiene of this place
And questioning my helpless wounds.
Please, where is the salt?
The bitterness to cleanse me?
Pain before numbness before death?
He blinded me with a sound,
With the violent beat of drums
The size of islands,
Jarring my excitable pupils
Forever.
Who is she?
Then came a day of mourning:
On the morning of a day
Of mourning
Of a day,
Lost.
Belief is philosophy.
An idea was conceived,
Was found to be nonsensical,
And standardization transformed
Into an inert totalitarianism,
But who are we to rebelliously be
The pompous leaders of nonconformity?
We write poems
That influence books
That influence manifestos
That influence wars
That influence consciences
That influence bodies
That influence wars
That influence wars
And wars
And wars
And dullness
And brokenness.
Why do we detest exhibitionism
But complain about kept secrets?
When the first snowflake fell,
She was a star of beauty,
And lauded by many,
For she was unique and unmatchable.
The Satan cursed his creation
For being whiter than the pure,
And she melted, never to return.
And then she said,
"Hell spoke to me to say,
"'My little girl, come hither,'
"And I went and was felt
"For insecurities,
"And they were removed from me.
"I was like the waterfalls
"And tingly with bees beneath my skin."
.
See us
her in pastel
flowering
and the long strands of her hair
from the
gentle breeze of Spring
dancing
See us
as we frolic
under the soft touch of
Spring's sun
See us
as we fix our eyes
to each other
while Spring's rain
tenderly cools our
excitable
flesh
See us
fuse with
Spring
Something in your face
something kind and warm
and something with a trace
of sexy
like the rain in an excitable storm
Something in your words
and in the lines of what's unsaid
drew me to you
like a ball of string or thread
something to unravel
a mystery in your eyes
something exciting, a sweet surprise
So hold the cup, take a sip
taste the sweetness of friendship
I'd like to know what makes you tick
and all there is to know
but hunnie there is no rush,
So let's just take it slow
Learning another language, excitable fun
As tongues wildly run.
Enriched vocabularies with foreign words,
Elevated like flying birds.
Step away stagnant conversation crew,
Jump in rainbow of speech
To teach,
A new view.
Eliminating dreary words,
moods of blue.
I have a best freind from france,
French!! The song of romance.
Even though for now, my spoken french is not a lot,
Un petite peu,
I'll continue to learn french
For fun,
So my tongue can wildly run.
-
I crossed the road in front of a red 1947 Oldsmobile. Horns
honking throughout the city. She sounded young and free on the
phone when she called last night. Not meaning to clip the wing
mirror I step on to the sidewalk. The driver tipped his hat as if
hoping I was fine but drove on anyway.
I had little on that day and let my typist off. These days money was slow
for private dectectives. Maybe I might hit on her or at least get good
expenses for the job. I pushed in the buiding's front door and unloaded my
mail box. No pay checks but a warning note. Who could have dropped off this
violent threat. Some low life shmuck prepared to do a cheap hit. Yeah.
I ascended the stairs to hispanic baby cries and creaking stairwells to
my office. I visioned her drapped across my desk brown pencil skirt nylons and
long blond hair. Available. Then a cry of Phillip. I quickly juggled my coffee and
donuts to same arm that had my coat and clicked the brass handled door.
Anticpation high. Excitable and sweaty in this downtown Los Angeles heat.
Bang. A bullet riochets off the door frame splintering the wood at right
angles.The broad was not available not suductive not a flowing blond.
But dead. I looked carefully at the victim. Her habit covered in blood.
Curtains blowing inward I realised it was too late for her and I had been
framed. Needless to say there would be no pay check here.
(My Son)
A joy to be with
Smart as a whip
Annoying at times ;)
&
(My Daughter)
Delightful little smiles
Annoying at times ;)
Never a dull moment
Intelligent little girl
Extremely smart
Lovable to no end
Lovely in every way
Excitable when bubba is being mean
By: Misty Leccese
© June 29, 2009
Everyone keeps saying try something new. Well here you go. I figured that I would do one
for my children. You guys are the best, thanks for all the help and encouragement.