Long Clapping Poems

Long Clapping Poems. Below are the most popular long Clapping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clapping poems by poem length and keyword.


~ (~) ~ the Things of These ~ (~) ~(Part #4 of 6) ~ (~) ~

As you see, hear a few moments later a funny looking Huckleberry Hound dopey little dog
cartoon the families all time favorite as the children snicker, and everyone there comes
in the room just in time and laughs together. With our dog cocking her head slightly and
barking with us. As our kitten Timid whacks at her ears stops again and chases her wagging
tail, hysterically.

And I tell you if it is all I can do to cherish the freshness of these things, friend I
will. I tell you I've already won.

My baby's laughter there in the highchair clapping with his superman bottle sitting in his
diaper splashing away all over Him listening to Dave Matthew's' It's Not Easy To Be Me
waving it in one hand as he shimmy's and rocks too and fro to the beat of the ambiance of
the new day, yes, reminds me ... .

Our Oreo cookie looking kitten named pounce, playing alone today now there
in-the-rain. How everything from birth has remained so curious to him. His
resilience as he laid there with her saying goodbye ... . As Gracie his sister just passed
on, yesterday. So I feel fate brings us to this opportunity, gentle mercy, tender beauty,
purest of goodness, when willing, everyday. Though even we do, or do not pray.

Like the perfect feel of those glorious tender kisses. Sweet caresses flying footballs
bike riding scuffed up knees tender love and band aids humming-birds-humming.
As-they-hover by the honey water feeders. The dog barking Pounce and Timid playing with
their super bouncy ball bouncing around whimsically too and fro. The Mango Chicken
Surprise chicken in the Set-It-and-Forget it rotisserie. Slippery wet feet legs flung up
swinging arms and tossing shoes loud thunks of your older swimmer Son slipping coming in
from His morning workout on the linoleum floor being just freshly mopped right bye the
back door.

As Mama cries out ""sorry Son" the dog or cat peed and you yell too"" You alright", and he
yells back frustrated "Whatever!" "This is a crazy family"! "I want out" Let me out"! And
yes some other real good humor I cannot really hear right now, and as well yes I feel he
is like Jim Carry and Robin Williams and a lot like me and my morning coffee.

Still being drank all throughout whatever heat of the day.





http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWJVmk8s9NU&playnext=1&list=PLAAF17CBEBB7C3D44&index=78
© James Long  Create an image from this poem.


Sleigh Dream

Bundled in a horse-drawn sleigh  
warm and snug on Thanksgiving Day
the children restless, we went on our way
as the shedding forest began to sway
and the gusts of wind set astray
the vestiges of autumn's display
that unveiled the cabins along the bay
 
Past weathered barns fraught with snow
and over covered bridges would we go
through the misty river's chill
turning toward the cider mill
its churning paddles frozen still
past the farmsteads and withered fields
the ghosts of bounty that harvest yields  
caught in a breeze of burning leaves
and all the reveries the season weaves

We arrived on main street after sundown
gliding through the charming town
toward the chiming white church steeple
past the storefronts curbed with people  
in the wake of the gingerbread float
at the stern of the Pilgrim's boat
behind fairy tales and candy lands
as the revelers sang with clapping hands
to the music of the marching bands

From the celebration would we emerge
from the flowery, spangled surge
to behold a wondrous sight 
as geese took flight into the night
over the sea where moonlight sought
to quell the hues that twilight wrought 

Frosted lamp posts lit our course 
and into a trot sprang our horse
his hooves and harness jingling bells
as if to the tunes of sweet noels
while from the shops whose cozy glow
projected windows on the snow
there flashed the goods someone will leave
under a tree late Christmas Eve
the toys and clothes wrapped in bows 
and all the gifts that a stocking stows

Now past chimney smoke and picket fences
nostalgic aspects that stir the senses
where old Victorian silhouettes are found
and gestures of goodwill abound
toward the sound of waves we wound
as our lanterns flickered on the ground 
the atmosphere around us festive
while within full and restive
or nestled by the fireplace
or with their heads bowed in grace
folks enjoyed a simple pace
while outside others strolled about
amid the maize and wreaths throughout 
absorbed in a twinkling universe       
of colors snow-clad and diverse

To our delight there soon arose
a savory ambience for the nose
adrift from tables set with care
with a redolence that met the air
as we hailed the last of passersby
and climbed the road into a sky
whose stars adorned the snowy limbs
to a house on the coast, flowing with hymns
Form: Rhyme

Pouch Poetry 1-4

hereunder is served some poetry pouches full of love, 
dear reader, stir them as you like, 
if you wish you may crack them to pour into mouth, 
you may smear them on your body 
or you may sprinkle them on the ground 
and then chant the name of god 
with love and enjoyment

1.
the simplicity that rolls down 
from the body of the sweet-meat 
made by my mother 

let it bring light 
to our radish-red love-story 

to hear or to notice 
love 
does not need 
putting an ear on the wall 
of the wall-street journal 

the bottle could be filled 
from the voice 

when you go to fill the bottle 
you would see that everywhere 
the arrangement of picnic is ready 

when i want to take part in that feast 
my neighbours would drive me towards 
the home  

although i’ve spent all my life 
running behind the love 

2.
who’s won the muddy-battle
was yesterday’s politics

my addiction is actually to cater 
the pouch of love
to develop all vitamins
and all bathrooms

people say you don’t love
the claps of the rats

yet i’ll come down 
from the branch of a guava-tree 
as a wave-of-shopping-mall
to the lake of your love 

now i’ll jump out 
from this computer screen 
to register a kiss 
on your lips

don't miss to applaud 
by clapping the hands


3.
the heart is half-sunk
in the window 

to some extent 
in the lipstick too 

on the dinner-plate 
there is the feelings of the lord 

that means 
i’ve to be burnt more 
i do agree 

i would become 
the sculpture of khajuraho 

this happenings may have been 
the right search for love 

on either-side of which  
a green is being worked out 
by the nostalgic-cycle 

whose colour-texture is very much harappa 
which has too many geometric-memories 

4. 
an undertone is speaking 
from within the solitude

now i’m in very much 
distress

or i’m in love 

i don’t know my love is what-for
may be that’s an arrangement only 

so easily are those interactions 
stitched with words 

strenuous or effortless 
in flight 
initiated 
with seclusion 

but when in the sinking of the playfulness 
i  write the games of the street-charmers 
 

the birds again and again 
pierce the archery 

thus becoming ashes 
through travelling 

in time-gaps still 
the audacity to compose poems 
on you

Premium Member Universalists and Unitarians

What is the big deal difference
between universal wholeness
and interdependent HereNow fragmentation?

How are they combined
to make one Left/Right
Ego/EcoHabitat
bilateral identified whole?

In an organic system,
a mindbody, for illustrative purposes,
perhaps a mature branched-out tree trunk
supported by a subterranean root feeding network,
whether ecosystemic outside
or egosystemic inside,
separating WinWin cooperative organs
leads to expectations of natural/spiritual dividing death,
abandoning each neglected interdependent part
to stand and fall nakedly Lose/Lose alone,

Positive mutual trusted default Virility,
Resilience hijacked by LeftBrain dominant
Either Win Or Lose bipolar
fundamentally autonomous claustrophobic terror,
morbidity.

Development of cooperating
competing labels
for language interdependent with co-relational experience
studies healthy WinWin organic communal communicating ways

Noting LeftBrain developed deductive dominating capacity
to tear away interdependent transubstantiating pieces
of universal creolizing ionizing wholes
While also inductively RightBrain remembering
how we originally worked and played
cooperatively
holistically combined together.

I want to dance time backward
to sing our larger CreationStory multiculturing view.

Wholeness is a polypathic health goal
Interdependence is a polyphonic wealth outcome--
resilience with resonance

An EarthTribe ubiquitously democratic Place
we can sacredly return to
with Left deductive YangEgo
and Right inductive YinEcoRelational
reawakening Prime ZeroZone win/win
within multiculturing health/wealth polypathic us.

WinWin personal and political history
slowly unfolds, refolds, prefolds, folds
before our revolutioning newborn eyes
as we expand our DNA family organic vision
to see matriarchal cooperative universal ZeroZones
Global composed of interdependent health care Local
Wealth previews, reviews, unviews, 
double-binding Ego/Eco Creation Stories.

Perhaps the primal difference
between LeftBrain Universalists
and RightBrain Unitarianists
is this difference
Between which one hand is clapping
Which one foot is dancing
Which one integral voice is cooperatively co-passioned
co-arising
SecularHere with Sacred MultiCultural-MultiGenerational Now.

Premium Member Our Shining Star

Impatiently we stand in line, tickets in our hand
At last we are ushered inside, hoping for seats up front
But people push ahead,...so we wiggle into row two
A tall head sits in front of me...............................................oh well, never mind.
Crowds fill the chairs, and chatter fills the air
Small children held up high for better view, mothers hold small bouquets in their laps
Fathers hold Canons or Kodaks, with extra rolls of film
Opening my program...I look for her name
Her name should stand out like neon....brighter than any other!  Oh yes! there it is!
But her name is printed like all the rest.................................oh well, never mind.
With a dimming of the lights, the first chord of music meets our ears
The show begins.  We clap politely, and watch patiently
It's not yet her turn.............................................................oh well,   never mind
Finally we realize her turn is near!  Anticipation is building!  We sit straighter in our chairs!
We crane our necks a little higher, camera is ready.....YES! THERE SHE IS!!
OUR SHINING LITTLE STAR!!
Oh dear...she misses a step...................................................oh well, never mind.

Her hair touched with sprinkles, her smile is glowing
A little wrinkle of concentration on her brow, ...
Taking care that she makes each move on cue
She is shining, amazing, and wonderful!!
Doesn't everyone see it?  How could they miss it? That she stands out from all the rest??!!
We clap madly...why are the others only clapping politely?
Our camera flashes brightly!  Why aren't other cameras flashing too??
Could it be that all these folks....all these other mums and dads, 
All these other grams and gramps, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles
Do they see different stars than ours?  Perhaps.
Oh well.....never mind.   We know those other stars can't possibly, no not possibly
Shine as bright as ours............................................................oh well,  never mind. 

There's a star in the heavens we'll name, 'Sweet Claire'  for you...so don't you ever mind...   


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For Linda Marie's contest..."Shining Star"
Form: Narrative


The Traditional Story

In my little village, Nkporo,
We celebrate the Iza Afa Festival
And the Most Magnificent Igboto Nma Festival.
The two are more than four hundred years old,
Our forebears told us that it began with
Their ancestors who immigrated from Heaven
When Chukwu was sharing the earth to broken Humans.
They got their teethless share of the earth and
There the magical festival began to grow teeth.
It is celebrated in the Eight Villages of Nkporo
But, not at the same time nor the same earthless year;
On that day of the treasured celebration, everyone is a nobody and somebody,
The wind would howls in sweet poetry, 
the trees would dance back and forth in a blissful form,
And the papers and leaves go up in merriment.
Then the open windows shut with a clapping hands
Welcoming the house roofs which rattles with songs.
The most dreaded guilty masquarades come out,
Helter skelter, the lost children run here and there;
As their homes skip and elude them in the square.
The Villagers feel nothing but the joy of excitment in the air,
As the dusty sand fill the tensed atmosphere.
The houses clear and the streets is filled with people.
Then, the men and women of the festival comes out
All glowing and shining like the sun in their ragalias.
A bright flash takes the entire village,
The whistler whistles by in an unknown tone,
The Igboto Nma people are excited and joyful too
Because they would soon stop the payment of taxes
And levies among their age Grades.
Their responsibilities in the village ceased as they drop the heavy knife on the village square.
But the new responsibilities now lies on
The shoulders of the Iza Afa age Grade
Who are now being initiated into a new phase of Life.
The Igboto Nma clans leave a legacy to be remembered for in the innocent virgin community.
The sky in joy makes night of the day, 
A noise that deafened comes from all the corners of the land,
Then the Eze Aja blesses them all and pray for long life and prosperit.
The rain makers keep the rain far off,
The fortune teller and the diviner dances all
Through the day and night,
At the end of their rituals at the village square,
They all goes to their tents and celebrate till dusk.
Food and drinks are abundant till the next day,
It always a day to reckon with in Nkporoland.
Form: Narrative

Under the Tree In Africa

Under the tree in Africa, we sap strength
from the songs of the sparrows before sunlight.
as we walk to the farm, the 
morning breeze brush our 
body from the billowing branches.
We pick up our hoes and cutlasses
and keep our basket and calabash,
the big Agbadas of the elders and our little 
catapult hang on the bole as we plough and plant.

Under the tree in Africa we relish
 the radiance of reality as we rest 
after the rigor of raising ridges.
we break the dried branches to make fire
to roast the harvested maize;
we stroll with the spirits as we slumber,
 listening to the whispers of the wind
and wake up to feast on the roasted maize 
with some cold water from the serene stream.

Under the tree in Africa we share
the shield of shadows, 
shying away from the sun 
as we walk back to the village.
We use our traps to tame birds;
making some meat available mama's, 
meal by moonlight, throwing stones at some 
ripe fruits we have a feel of freshness 
and get some fruit for friends and family,
we get locked in luck as we get lots of grains 
and goodies that gives us passion and pride.

At twilight, under the tree is a place to be in Africa, 
the elders drink from the cup of culture.
Passing the calabash with love; there is enough Palm 
wine and bush meat to go round,
quarrels are settled, feuds are finalized as the echoes 
of the evening resounds.
The day's delight are shared, friendships are 
found and formed as fresh fragrance flows.

The children chant with vibrating voices, moral 
melodies are mimed with clapping of hands under 
the tree in Africa.
Graceful games and spirited sports go on as 
communal creeds cruise in their conscience.
The elders feed their seeds with the water of wisdom 
as they share folktales and facts,the children are charged to 
be charming as they listen to the tales by moonlight..

In Africa the women sings with virtuous voices 
as they make mats, beads, basket and raffia
under the tree.
nursing mothers keep their sucklings on the mat
for the cool breeze to caress their soft skin,
at twilight, women roll out local pots, mortal and pestle, 
to prepare pounded yam and melon soup for their household,
as the food-is-ready alarm sounds, folks and friends 
gather to dine and wine as the moon peeps through 
the leaves under the tree in Africa.
Form: Narrative

Hey My Honeybunch, You Let My First Wedding Anniversary Unforgettable

Guys I would like to share my FIRST WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
                          wrote by Mrs.Madhavi

 Hey my Honeybunch,You let my first Wedding Anniversary unforgettable.. 

        Hey guys, you know what?? I had got a pleasant surprise from my hubby.It was our 1st Marriage Anniversary on 24th April 2013. Actually we both had tight work schedule..and hubby was at pune..It was too hard to digest that v couldn’t meet each other..but some hw prepared mentally that its ok.. will meet @ weekend..After few hours bro called and said that he is going to organize party for my in-laws and mom-dad n he said..your hubby wont come bt he askd me to conduct party tonight..I got too upset bcz f dis again..dat hw cud i without hubby :(( but after few minutes i got clue frm my momma n i ws at the top f my world..everyone was waiting to cut the cake n my eyes wer desperately searching suyog..hotel assistants wer asking quite oftenly "shall v bring the cake n i ws like..no no wait..just wait.." but later dey brought the cake aftr bro's signal..n dey started clapping n played music for wishing.. Everybody said : Now stand n cut the cake..he won’t come..my bro also said how eagerly u bin w8tin n searching fr him bt he really wont cum..my bro n my family members not only confused me but hotel assistants as well regarding suyog's arival but i said where is my hubby??????? i wont cut the cake without him..gt too too upset again n emotional :(':(' was trying his phone bt he avoided my cal n msg popped out..he is busy with other manager..talk later..gt really upset bcz f dis..den i felt now seriously he won’t come..Suddenly i had glimpse f suyog n i ws like is it suyog??????? dat ws the touching moment....gt too too excited n my happiness was beyond bound..Everybody around me laughed.He hugged me n wished me..I too wished him..later we cutted the cake n he gave me nicely decorated flower bouquet..Really “You made me insane..you made me sick..men..in your love..Without you my life will be incomplete..” Heartiest congratulations to you my Honey!!!!muahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh and I wish you to b as my life partner fr all seven birth's..n lastly thanks fr hp pavilion lappy,beautiful sarees n amazing jewelleries.. :) :) /\./\ 

by:
Madhavi
© Maddy Sp  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Trials of Meretrix Canto V

Here, this day, on this inglorious
Field
Thy vain struggles will count no
Valour.
All hope now abandoned,
Imminent defeat unconcealed;
Erstwhile countenance display 
Such waxen, languid pallor.
Surround by your dwindling 
Forces
Ye will but sadly find...
That the stout keep of your 
Valiant fortress is all but breached,
Once strong foundations failing -
Wherest badly undermined!

For a rigorous examination beckons
ye;
Stood before impassioned jurors 
Chosen from the feared and all
Powerful families of the ignoble
Medici.
Black curtains drawn back from 
Deep reveals
That look out over the enlightened
Years...
Where conceals...
Hidden between leafs of peremptory
Decree:-
A blight spread upon these lands,
Inflicted from Romes insidious 
Plans -
That cause stain upon the
Renaissance of a golden century!

When clapping thunder breaks and
Brazen lightening clashes
Still I would know ye again: 
A pounding, frenzied reflex devoid
Of all Godly purpose -
Detached from any amount of 
Blame!
For I have sought ye out, O lowly 
Meretrix;
Heaping upon you with bondage
Enforced through servitude and
Shame;
And I, O lowly Meretrix,
I...hereby command thy name.

A fastidious Advocate of intellectual
Character
Shallst I elect,
He who be a practitioner of 
Theological proposal unrefrained,
To represent you -
Raised from the rank files of the
Dead and slain!
A public gallery, wherest seated,
Ghostly phantasms 
That I purposefully select;
And for a judge - A deathly one:
Ill measured, worshipfully detached,
Beneath it all,
And hopelessly arcane.

This "Innocent" fool, dressed in
Guise of highest ecclesiastical 
Enforcer,
Perpetuated a medieval Inquisition,
Both protracted and prolonged,
That openly boasted and rejoiced
In its zealous slaughter!
Thereby spawned a terrible edict -
"Ad Extirpanda":-
Cannon law that advocates the
Use of "Legitimate torture"!

Know thee also, Meretrix, the Pius
Pontiff,
Heaven sent,
Who in his greater wisdom 
Convened over
The council of Trent:
Four hundred years spanning 
Across a Reformations fears;
Reaffirmed when Pope John,
In reflective reiteration,
Was heard to chillingly hiss:
"What was...Still is"!

TO BE CONTINUED...
Form: Rhyme

Zoological Zoom

Cobblestones of pantry and a wide toothed grin. Visitors from afar pay no heed and paramount is the settling and uprooting of cultures old. Might as well be blood in that feather quill who prints octagonal lines on a parchment. The otters are arriving on their many boats. Their hats adjusted. Times of  affluential fashion and norms carried in a wide brimmed basket hat. Always with a bow. The many eyes and ears of tree lined shores listen to the arrival. And as the booming stick pounds on the floor of this jungle the rush of brown skin dashes to the floor. Garden not a wilderness. Dangerous it is to attempt to train a beast. Attempt not to understand a culture. And harvest only what us necessary upon landing. Beginnings are not a temple they are akin to a whisk. Whir whirring and causing carnage, chaos and death. The cavern then utilised for storage. Those that had dwelt side by side now shuddered in the new comers presence. Myths are a faith and a comfort when the camps of the intruders are land lepers. Lesions. Talua the wise woman of dragmo  speaks. Ordering all precious items be hidden in the sacred cavern. Enshrouded by canopy. Therefore unreachable. There it would be guarded by the blues. There it would come to no immediate harm. Yet, if one day the total environments were threatened with loss then the blues shall rise and with their many gifts call upon the sky carriages to assist the lands. Thus ensuring no single specie would be eradicated. So now to look upon the dawn. Imagining life as a fish or a prawn. Diving to depths but with no passports. Clapping and dancing with the bullfrog parade on bulletins. Tickets are not trains but trampolines to flies. Under a mountain pass moves a mammoth. Giggling bears in vaulted chapels. Undergrowth has reclaimed this place. And planets due are akin to pouring cream on strawberries on a very hot day. Weaving wavering weaponry weapons weeping wept webs weekly waking winking walking waves. *** potency. *** pickled ice cubes. Xx a pickle ice skating *** myriads of time paths in a juice. *** balmy bacons *** I think not a morning I wish fir a harmonic interlude of a dancing flower at midnight in a noodle broth. *** brethren. Brotherhoods. Breathe. *** zoological. X
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