Best Exclamations Poems


Premium Member Loss of Innocence

Fragrant flower, Jasmine infused,

the evening breathes comic book laughter,

colors white and green and yellow.

Our heroes, our saviors in bold of

twilight blue and mud red ocher.

Perfume fingers stretch forth on evening breeze

searching for that champion 

only to find, beneath primary hues,

a miriad of diffuse pastel hides

beneath balloon exclamations,

our vain attempt to save us from ourselves.




04/22/18

Premium Member Piece De Resistance

The Seconds grew impatient
   As Anticipation aimed its dart
Hope sat erect at the table
   Compliments practiced their parts

Breaths were held as the Chef pirouetted
   The Piece de resistance proudly poised
Triumph on a smooth, sleek glass surface
   To the accompaniment of Merriment's noise

Paradise was but a dimly lit candle
   Beside the Pheasant's brilliant blue flame
Exclamations burst forth midst salivation
   The Proud Bird had earned Highbrow acclaim

Premium Member Primavera, Sandro Botticelli

if I were to manifest 
your magic as my divine dusk,
O musk of damask starlight's glow,
must I slow-trace 
        soul’s rhyme,
explore the exotic ecstasy 
      within exquisite exclamations 

and if, 
to frame the flame of faith
within your impulses,
I must tiptoe down 
the altar of your undeniable heat,
sway ~ sanguinely in sync
with the rhythm of scribed similes,
devour the devoted desires
of dulcet darkness,
for you and the hues 
    of silent sighs ~
breathtakingly belong to
the ache within my
           sleepless highs …

so tonight,
        listen to the 
cadence of these eyes ~ 
f    a 
    l   l 
       i
     n    g  ~ 
compulsively, catastrophically, 
like a storm of firefly feathers,
         breathing you…

you are mine ~ O flower moon, 
in muteness and in musicality,
of forest-deep passion,
clothing my conscience 
             in sweet compassion,
my pulse in magnetic motion,
a breeze of zephyr ~ 
undefinable
and I am the archaic echo 
alliterating the heavenly nights
with unrehearsed reverence,
wanting to home the silhouette
       of worded wilderness…
to feel me, weave me warm

    as unspoken thoughts ricochet 
        ~ an inescapable intuition ~
quenched beneath Cupid's drizzles
         of love’s sacred rain…


Premium Member What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.

Premium Member Snobbery

The new residents at the Manor
Were in a pickle, with a dilemma
Their neighbors’ were rather posh
With exclamations like 'Golly gosh'

Keeping up appearances in other homes
Is rather hard when your name is Jones.
© Ken Duddle  Create an image from this poem.

A Shark Bite Or Song of the Lark

You!!!! Me? Yes. Forever,,,  Exclamations
and a question started conversation
...
© Ggg Bbb  Create an image from this poem.


God's Hand

Last night when I was watching the bright trail of the plane near so many stars,
 I cried. 
 My time is hiding in the endless stretch of God's hand that holds us all together in its grip. Together! 
"There's so much we went along together, and you left me." 
 Laughter can not stop, nor tears, nor time.
 
 Exclamations that do not fit any of the pain or joy 
remains etched in the memory of the gods. 
 Nothingness must have their own sense otherwise there would be nothing of our movements within our perception. 
 Changing your vision in a different environment images will not longer tied to one arm, which has undertaken to be our destiny.
 Try to keep wasp in your hand and you will understand how important it is that we might become the wasps.
 We welcome our escape in the greatest mystery of the origin of this farce. 
 Laughter can not stop nor tears nor time.
  
 "Walls of this city must fall in honor of our gods!"
 My friend takes the sword from his drawings and defend innocent busty women.
 They promised him a night to remember when he will get out from the clenched fist using their depth. 
 Sighs from paradise opens door in which guards stand. 
 Dragons and pumas on the path of transformation. Oblivion? 
"Do not come back! We will finish what we started! " 
 It's late. Clouds in aimless wandering and relief. 
 Feeling of exhaustion and laughter that can not stop, nor tears, nor even time.

 God's hand grabbed us from the very beginning of our existence.
 We were wrong in only one that we did not know to keep an endless pleasure. 
 So do not ever ask why the universe is infinite. 
 God is watching us all the time and can not stop laughing, and neither tears nor time.

Some Clerihews To Make Jack Laugh Or Scoff

Jack Ellison wasn't from Nantucket
I read prose that his cleaning lady had a nice bucket
But he vowed to look in silence quite as a mouse
For fear of sleeping in the perpetual doghouse

PD, appears and disappears like whoodini
I have seen the poems where she's a meanie
She also wrote about trading seeds for a donkey
She could have just as easily traded seeds for her monkey

Thephilosopher, what a silly nick indeed
He would trade if he only had a seed
A good monkey he could certainly use
Or would the ass he choose?

I would write about a Star I once knew
But from sight has she flew
Entering contest after contest without fail
A questionable close here could lead to hell

Wayland Bunch mentioned afore
He often rambles and can bore
His idea of humor often misconstrued
If he were a famous writer he'd be sued

There is a poet here named gigno
What is up with him though
Commenting with three exclamations
Does he think they equal explanations?

The Gaijin, clerihew after clerihew he did write
He gave up being Haijin, mostly out of spite
Who wants to write only three lines of poetry, he mopes
Haikus are for dopes              (haha, that one should draw some attention)

He's called NietzscheThePhilosipher on Mocospace
Beware moco is a dirty dirty place
He went there often just to chat
But found out that perversion was the welcome mat

The boy from Texas wasn't scared though
He heard much worse, although he says it aint so
One time or two he wrote a clerihew
Becareful lest the next clerihew be about you

He read Jack's quatrains almost everday
They were medicine to the soul he would say
Maybe vodka to the inhibitions explains it best
If not, he'll just drink the vodka and forget the rest

I think I should mention Linda once more
I won't even write what you think, I don't need the war
I live by peace for all, that's the key
What happens if this last line contains piece and monkey (hahahaha)

Dreaming of You

...leaning closer for a kiss
mmmuak, smooches into a happy land
arms wrapping around breathless
echoes of steam engine 
shooting out exclamations of amazement
adding zest to the citrus flavor of our spiritual being
I feel indulged in the softness of your voice
as you fine-tuned your love to my frequency
gliding on the same wavelength 
spiraling into fireworks of lemon and honey
with each drop falling a sparkle to Mother Earth
landing in harmonious union of two flames entwined 
You move your fingers with a crackle and hiss
electrifying my body arching to your touch
a fiery tango under your spell
You make me sizzle in your burning passion
I feel unscathed by the gentleness of your soul
as you embrace all of my imperfections...

Kinder-Writing

i.
I've learnt to play with words
Like a kid in kindergarten
Gathering thorny roses from the garden.
With words, now I play.

ii.
Despite the spikes
Pricking and tick-ly
Still, I pick words as toys
Making the alphabets my buddy.

iii.
I don't joke around Joke.
Being juxtaposed
Don't necessarily mean our thoughts don't oppose.
Nevertheless, figures of speech I literally kissed.

iv.
I'm learning to understand
Every actions in verbs
Why adjective steals informations attributed to nouns
Why exclamations don't play, with every vocal sounds.

v.
Now, with my eyes I perceive
The scent of everything around
And when my mind is alarmed
I seek refuge; swimming with the tides of letters.

Music of the Heart

Black
--------The heart throbbed 
with complete absorption of light
clotted passageways 
pounding through vessel walls
degrading sighs thinned the air
clutching the heart at its low
 the mind shut down

White
--------The heart fluttered
with all the colors of the spectrum
smooth passageways
flutter-echoing throughout soft surfaces 
uplifting exclamations breezed into the air
opening the heart at its high
 the mind unfolded itself

Colors
--------The heart rejoices
basking in the brilliance of nature
iridescent pirouette   
swaying to a Chopin's Ballad 
enlightened epiphany in an instant
sprouting blossoms from the heart
the mind transcends

Premium Member The Infuriating Gnat

I was sitting here today writing a poem in my little place,
When all of a sudden this gnat comes flying in my face.
I swatted once, I swatted twice, but he got away.
He was determined that he was going to stay.

My house is spotless…how did he get inside?
Gnats are a thorn in my side I can’t abide. 
The gnats in Georgia are infuriating beyond belief.
Why did God create them just to give grief?

Their reason for living is to cause endless aggravation,
And my exclamations are just useless verbalization.
I’m going to get that little bugger if it’s the last thing I do.
He crossed the line- when in here he flew!

Exclamations of the Perfect Child

Goodness Gracious!
My classmates are all hot messes,
They all managed to get cookie crumbs
all over their dresses,
They have warped into little monsters!
Attacking snacks as if they were Edward 
Scissorhands,
I can't bear to look,
Their antics are repulsive man,
Please stop the presses and the publicity!
Someone needs to show these kids how to
eat,
How can anyone go from enjoying a meal,
to being the most notorious violators
of fine cuisine...?
There is no peeling, patting or baking 
involved, so why is it so hard to partake
politely, without being ghastly and unsightly?
Goodness Gracious!
It is such a turn off when youngsters act like
complete slobs,
I wonder how they would fare eating pasghetti
in globs? Or cotton candy melting by the millisecond?
They would probably need a Nursemaid......
I reckon.

1169857

The 
ocean
open its arms to me, comforting
in its thunderous exclamations of love: “come to my 
foaming embrace and I will carry you, fragile
one”, it caws through the 
beaks of ravenous seagulls circling with beady 
eyes,
searching 
for the breadcrumbs of your desire.
Its sand-dollar shores beckon you to search and discover,
to wander aimlessly like a child again and 
ignore the salt biting fresh 
wounds. The shimmering pebbles draw you to 
gently 
ro l l i n g
arms; “wade deeper, deeper”, the ocean 
sings, “and I will rock you like a baby 
as the tide creeps in. Come to me, 
fragile one, and I will 
never let you fall”. The ocean opens 
its 
arms 
to you, comforting in its thunderous 
exclamations of love: its roars and rocks, but you 
are unafraid. You let it carry you as 
you float among the stars.

Knock Me Out

KNOCK ME OUT
                                AGAIN
                                  AND
                                AGAIN
                         ~~~~~~~~~~
Annual rose resurgence is imminent, rested and renewed
daily inspection to assess progress from bud to full bloom
enduring and alluring, sweet perfume brings past memories
though more subtle and subdued than I can recall
                             R~O~S~E~S
The most perfect plucked for viewing in vases or jars
exclamations of oohs and ahhs  will excitedly ensue
color and beauty and perfume admired by viewers
happiness and joy from presence of fresh flowers 
                           K~N~O~C~K
Enticing with their beguiling poses and perfections
appearing so delicate and fragile and weak
when strength and tenacity is the truth hence
 " tough as a boot !! "
                            M~E  O~U~T
Some are high and mighty and proud, shouting
 " look at me !! "
others begging for you to seek while they hide
introverts and extroverts like us I suppose
all deserving equal attention and admiration
                          A~G~A~I~N
Appropriately named ' Knock Out Roses '
survival requires hours of sun for flower power
and pruning and plucking of withered petals 
root protection vital, limitless water from Heaven and hose
                             A~N~D
A silent seduction occurs without uttering a word
power without pressure or pranks or propositions
mere existence without strings attached
leaves us breathless and begging for more
                           A~G~A~I~N
Impatience and anticipation beginning to occur, and stir
roses yawning and stretching, sensing it's time to wake up
and show the world what a little rest can accomplish
the New Years' resolution being to be bigger and better 
and bolder with renewed purpose to produce and please
and roses never break their resolutions
      ~~~~~ READY TO BE KNOCKED OUT AGAIN ~~~~~

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