Long Excitement Poems
Long Excitement Poems. Below are the most popular long Excitement by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Excitement poems by poem length and keyword.
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, in France, a storyteller fella
Wrote of a girl named Cinderella,
Meant as a fairy tale romance.
Her daddy died when she was young, and she was forced to share his riches
With three monumental b****es,
A most unhappy circumstance.
For years her stepmom and stepsibs made her perform a menial's duty,
And as she blossomed into beauty,
They grew more hateful, mean, and cruel.
Each night they dined on fine cuisine and wore lace dresses with silk sashes,
While she wore rags begrimed with ashes,
And got just crusts of bread and gruel.
Then one day a herald from the king demanded entry
To the homes of landed gentry,
They were invited one and all.
It was the prince's eighteenth birthday, and the king and queen were harried
Because their son was not yet married.
Ergo, the reason for the ball.
The stepsisters primped and preened and wild excitement they exuded,
When Cindy asked to be included, they gaped at her as if appalled.
Stepmother sneered, "Look here, I'll show you!"
With self-righteous indignation,
"Your name's not on the invitation.
Just we elite are so installed."
So Cinderella went downstairs to seek some solace in the kitchen,
But 'stead of sittin' there and b****in', she started dancing with a broom.
She whirled and twirled around the floor,
Or else she'd stand there, gently swaying,
As if an orchestra was playing
Pretending they were bride and groom.
And then a flash, a crash of thunder, and to Cindy's stunned amazement,
There gliding through the kitchen casement,
A pudgy lady dressed in blue.
She said, "Hello, my dear, no fear, I'm here to grant your secret wishes,
I'll wave my wand and clear the dishes,
And make a princess out of you!"
She waved and tapped and flicked and zapped,
And what she seemed to make the air do
Was give her make-up, nails, and hair-do,
And then to make the look complete,
Out of those rags so soiled and worn and far too torn to drown a cat in,
A gown of gossamer and satin, and crystal slippers on her feet.
Without this timely intervention, Cindy's tale might have been tragic.
Could she have managed without magic,
And her dilemma be resolved?
But everybody knows what happened with a gourd and six white mice,
And how a smudgy scullery maid was made to clean up really nice,
When a fairy got involved.
To be continued...
Have you ever seen bullfrog green jump across a Lilly pad?
Did you ever see gold moth bathing in a moonshine bath?
Do you watch as teal raindrops bless and baptize the stream?
Will you hear the wood windmill song it sings each spring?
I walk real close to the sandy coast where Nana and I share things
She told me once always have fun always be true and dream
I recall those days her voice her face I can still see her smile
The dandelions seemed less boring to me a wild city child
Papa came into the house with his muddy blue overalls
His gray mustache seems to shout louder than Pa talks
“The time is close and he is nearly broke come if you want to see
The albino pony being tamed from the only pack of wild ones near the creek”
My eyes grow big and I must admit I love excitement of any kind
So I dropped my book to have a look and ponder the pony so fine
The pony kicks and then it sits as if one final stubborn nerve exists
Then it saw me it started to scream and have all kind of fits
Papa says whew! This one likes you! Why don’t you say hi?
I was really too scared and had never dared to ride a pony or try
But for some reason I had a season of unusual courage to spare
I climbed the fence went straight to him
The pony with ice eyes white hair
As soon as I came close, he let out a little noise
It was as if he had hoped to find comfort in my voice
I didn’t know what to do or how I would earn his faith
But in a minute or two our eyes like glue
Stuck and we became mates
The pony calm was eating from my palm
And I feel a new esteem
Instead breaking the pony in
I feel he broke into me
Each day the boredom was swept away
By my pony friend indeed
I would feed him little treats change his hay
And he fed me spiritually
The pony still was a little strong willed
So no one was allowed
To ride him or take him anywhere
That was too far from the house
So times were slow even so the pony and I would play
He could do tricks and even dance a bit
If I ask him a certain way.
Pony bends and I get on him
Like the wind he rides to town
I find the nurse who was at church
And she calls others around.
So that summer I lost and found things
I would never willingly give up
Nana and kittens and Papa getting bitten
A pony and farm full of love.
A NOTABLE HORSE CONTEST
10/13/2021
SPONSOR ROBERT JAMES LIGUORI
Her eyes a sapphire blue,
An awesome sight to view,
Her nose aristocratic,
She was so charismatic,
Her lips a rosy petal pink,
One had to blink,
Or been seen as staring,
Her nature a sheer blessing.
Her hair pure black like coal,
Her ears so dainty as if she stole
Them from a pretty fairy,
Her friendly attitude quite flirty,
Her peeking bosoms such a tease,
Begging for a squeeze,
Her tantalizing always alluring waistline,
Her demure look whilst sipping wine,
Her legs, toned and smooth,
The actual truth,
Those legs were the best in town,
Caire lived in a cottage down
The hill, her ankles slim and slender,
Her speaking tone ever so tender,
Her teeth pearly white,
Her nails and toe-nails bright
Red, wrists strong, fingers slight.
She was betrothed to the mayor,
Was this beautiful girl Caire,
To be married next week,
By a sandy beach near a sheltered creek,
Excitement was mounting,
Two days to go, she was counting,
Claire had ordered a Dior designed dress,
This was the perfect wedding, oh yes!
Her parents arrived the day before,
They were excited wanted to explore,
Mark’s parents acted a little strange,
There was never any form of exchange,
Of phone calls, no answer to a wedding invitation,
Future husband gave Clair limited information,
She looked radiant as she walked down the aisle,
She turned everybody’s head, unique was her style.
Happy as a lark to be her beloved’s wife,
She looked forward to her future role in life,
Suddenly, police sirens heard,
The noise moving closer, how weird,
Two cars arrived and, four or five policemen,
Walked towards the couple, in fact ten,
Cuffed her future husband, read him his rights,
Clair fainted, Mark was a criminal, many nights
She often thought he was too secretive,
Which made her sad, certainly not appreciative,
Claire dear girl, you forgot, habits are difficult to re-arrange,
Mark was set in his ways, so hard for you to have him change.
Mark was wanted for fraud, millions of pounds
Involved, had cooked the books, so out of bounds,
Claire's mom and dad put her gently into their car,
And took her to their home which was far,
Claire took some time to get past this catastrophe,
Over a man she loved and about to relinquish her chastity,
Ralph a divorced writer was her parent’s neighbour,
Who soon stole Clare’s heart and her chamber!
Santa felt all out of sorts up there in the pole,
the elves looked at each other and shook their heads.
They had tried their best to jolly Santa along
but the more they tried, the sadder he got.
Finally one asked him why he was so sad
shaking his head Santa said they no longer believe.
No more do they send me letters of what they want
and telling me how good they have been.
As he sat there the tears rolled and mingled in his beard
and his belly shook and rolled over and over in folds.
The North Pole House started to melt and fall away in chunks
what can we do to get belief back into people's hearts? one asked.
We could write letters and send them to him said one
that will not work said another he knows all their names.
WE have to find a Believer and bring them here to him
for if there is no belief the North Pole house will die.
The elves searched around the world looking for just one
any one would do as long as they still believed in Santa.
Try as they might none could they find. Until one elf heard
a child crying out his heart. Why do you cry? little man,
Santa never answers my letters he said I have sent him so many
The other children laugh at me and say he no longer exists,
that he for many years has never replied to their requests.
The elf shook his head in disbelief as he listened to the child.
He threw some Christmas dust over the child and whisked him
away to the North Pole house. The child's eyes were popping
right out of his head as he watched the elves busily working.
He does still exist he screamed in excitement. He does, he does.
As for Santa, he soon cheered up and busily got to work
loading up his sled with many brightly wrapped presents.
Why did you not answer my letters Santa the child asked?
What letters? I have had no letters for what seems like years.
This mystery puzzled the elves, where on earth could they be,
It was Mrs Santa that had the answer. That old fool she said
he tucks them away in his pocket and then forgets about them
see there are hundreds it is no wonder no one still believes.
Dear oh dear said Santa my mind is so forgetful lets get them read
that Christmas children world wide received so many presents
Once again belief returned and the North Pole house was saved
As faith in Christmas was reborn and happy faces smiled and smiled
written 11/27/2014
The train, halted under the shade of sacred hill
They flowed out, and, wandered here and there
holding big, small, colorful, old and new packs of belongings
To, find comfortable chests and knees
some carelessly slept on un-desiring places,
but many there stood still
to face the misty, white clouded sky beyond the ridge,
Perceived their feet had reached
the starting point of adventurous tramp
Men, women, young and old with little ones
crept forward Just like a bunchy row of ants
filled with amazement; some stood, and watched
the vivid green forest canopy and flowering ferns
swinging in the frosty breeze!!
The minds filled with compassion, harmony
and respect each other
By murmurous chanting, that oozed into their veins
in the morning twilight
Tenderness of beams brighten the white dresses
of devotees
Time passed slowly
And the far valley down, a string of people moving upwards
on the zigzagged narrow path
Surrounded by thick green vegetation which
being the habitat of bees, birds, butterflies and
variety of big and small animals
Oozy willows dropping pearl like cold water drops
But few of moving people put a glance
at the phenomenon!
What a peregrination, having a cool gust thrill
which each body and its soul begird
The strenuous walk will bring to a halt at the noble foot print
Some managed to reach the desired end
but some could not attain the will
they stopped hopelessly, stepped down
with forsaken aspiration
those who topped the hill, huddle together
engaged customary rituals,
The eco of the ringing bell spread over the chilled atmosphere
through hill tops, forest, and the moving folks
Excitement broke out
Devotees squeezed catch a glimpse of sunshine!
The sun appeared slowly with a trembling smile
through the glistening horizon
Sunshine! Miraculously radiated across the mountain range,
forest canopy and everything
open to tender beams of light
What a huge strength,
Noble hopes and wishes
fulfilled the pilgrimage!
J.Weerakkody
(This poem is about pilgrims who climb the summit of breezy sacred mountain of Sripada, the holy mountain of Sri Lanka, where suppose to be emblematized the footprint of Lord Buddha. After worshiping the sacred footprints the devotees anxiously watch the panoramic maiden sun rise over the sacred mountain. The poem is vividly realized descriptions of nature.)
My Pet Poems, Max
I hopped onto Craig’s List, made a phone call.
Next day, with a royal blue, nylon carrier, which had a small, zippered door, sitting on the back seat ready, we drove an hour southeast for this scrawny boy — white with beige/blonde markings on his back and,too, on his amazing, static-charged, flying ears. The first short-nosed dog I’d ever gotten, with quite an underbite.
The couple taking our $100 for this shih tsu told us: well, he’d not done well on their farm; was bullied by the other dogs; and was fearful of horses.
In turn, I thought: well, who wouldn’t be? This tiny, white fluff of a boy with that pronounced, huffing smile, all teeth from chin to nose. I told Jim on the drive home, “The funniest thing I ever saw.”
The vet record the couple gave us was fraud —no such vet. And, apparently, Max had a nerve disorder, too,which sent him into a fit of physical contractions and screaming at any point of any excitement. “He is one for the medical books,” our own vet said, as we tried every approach to help him. He suffered in those fits, as our ears and alarm for him did each and evoery time for over three years, with us finally stopping the meds, simply going to embrace him gently, saying softly, “Max! Max, jt’s all right...”
Now, some several years later, the fits are no more...I try not to, but I wonder what horrors he knew on that farm: if the bullying dogs bit him when he screamed? And if the couple tried kicking him out of his fits with their heavy farm boots? My intuitions all but saw it. Oh...
This little boy, who became the shadow figure at my feet... like his ancient Chinese-bred ancestors, lying guard before the holy places, and taking off to bark away any possible predators at the door; and, too, lying half-wakeful aside their sleeping monks or the town’s children in case some monster rose out from a dream, or some other need indicated a command.
Then, when Gigi came, he became instantly a big brother, as a dog will do it, he always abdicated as she insisted on being so at my side, in her little princess way of wedging her way between. Thus, Max has taken to Jim’s affections and shadows him. The boys there. The girls here. Affection throughout the room!
********. *********. ********. ********
(c)sally Young eslinger 12/23/20
Always Thanks be to God
I stand on the highway of hope getting ready for the train to go on a trip to the mountain sphere, the passengers are pouring in, the seats are filling up, and everyone is in a mad rush. What on earth is going on? The passengers have been here before the break of dawn and excitement is all over the lawn. The cities and towns are flooded with lights and everyone has made an early sacrifice, smiles and laughter are everywhere and the people have nothing to fear. The highway of hope is taking me to the show, you can get an all-inclusive ticket wherever you go; you have a ticket for the train ride, the theatre, restaurant, cinema, the football games or just to go jogging up the lane. You have tickets to go shopping or to work out at the gym; there is a bus and a train for everything and there is one reserved only for music, singing and dancing. You can ride the bus or train any time of the day and your mornings and evening will never waste away, every ticket you buy will contribute to the blue sky and your donations will not die. Meet me at the highway of hope and I will show you where to go, the mood has change and joy is spreading everywhere. If you have nothing to do, put some snack in a bag and join the picnic train, and view all the terrain. The goal is to make a million in an hour and leave the sorrows in the showers. You will have something formidable to look forward to at the end of the day and your burdens and stress will surely roll away. Come with me to the highway of hope and join, the campaign fundraising train .Every ticket you buy will raise my ambition; every train you ride will elevate you to the sky, the numbers are growing and the passengers are swelling and my life has just begun. I have five-dollar tickets, ten-dollar ticket, a thousand- dollar tickets and any money tickets. There is a bus and train for every price and someone to show you how to roll the dice. If you don’t want to ride the train, the bus will do the same; a hundred bus and a hundred train is parked up on the highway of hope in every state so buy your tickets and join the masquerade. The goal is to make a hundred and fifty million dollars a day in the all inclusive bus and train ride on the highway of hope in all the fifty states so join the fundraising effort before it's too late.
Meet me on the highway of hope anytime of the day and don't delay.
(following on figurative heals
sans, l'amour,
i.e.,and that bastard conception
of life, liberty, and the
pursuit by George - Marshall ling, Grant
ting, and Bing Frank.)
Expectant motherhood generates aurorean
sonogram x-ray zooms
bringing developed fetus
healthily shimmering viz,
quasi hologram seen
glowing halo, inducing
jubilant kickstarter lil bean,
administering capitalone
earthlinked joyful lyft,
natural pheromone readying cerulean
tommorrows, venerated ecstacy doth gleam
zinging bounteous
dizzying feelings hormones houseclean
jackanapes leviathon nestling
pinterestinly interocean
reaching terminus vista
xing zee birth canal mien
doctor readies Fallopian tube cutting
helping jiggle little nymphean
possibly ranking...
as future topnotch venerated Olympian
fast forward to joyful loving neuro
logically plain resplendent teen
knee weeny tiny
vaunted expanding zing
baby dripping Vasoline
like goo fully gesticulating
happy jolly newborn.
Which miracle whipped
purely by chance
given reason to the most orthodox
to sing and dance,
sans said singular biological
phenomenon does enhance
freshly minted parents,
or the mommas
and papas genetic
copy wrought grants
who already passed along
to a brood of offspring
gushing with excitement
akin to fire hydrants
spewing forth fountain head
treasuring such Kodak moment,
cuz such instance
and subsequent tender
wonderful blessed
Instamatic reverent cherished instants
will zip at greased lightening
via speeding hurled lance
sing remembrance of things past
during twilight years,
an eye blink those yesterdays,
when my troubles seemed so far away
and upon being centenarian,
doddering fogie gripping hold,
hugging intensely, indubitably decrying
how quickly of
decades long ex pants
didst elapse, when tendering
to a coliciky, finicky,
inscrutably lemony snickety offspring
wishing infant would grow up already,
now onset of autonomy
Das Agean sea sunned
father or mother
hood doth rants
at father time, he doth access
without a word an excel lent
power point demonstration
with near vertical line brevity
of how mortality slants.
IMPORTANT LOVE EMOTIONS
Love is good,
Love is important,
Important are the emotions,
Important are the feelings,
Feelings can hurt,
Feelings can heal,
Heal will the heart if honesty lies within it,
Heal will the mind if the thoughts are just.
Just is love when being sincere,
Just is the heart when life is genuine,
Genuine is the emotions if heartfelt,
Genuine is the feeling if they are earnest.
Earnest love must be to find God,
Earnest is the heart if God is within.
Within the mind thoughts must be authentic to the heart,
Within the heart that authenticates love is truth,
Truth is hard to find,
Truth differs all the time,
Time is of the essence,
Time heals all that is broken.
Broken is love when is unfaithful,
Broken-hearted is the unfulfilled love;
Love is beyond reason,
Love is the most blessed thing created,
Created by God, love is sublime,
Created by the sublimity of God’s love is straightforward.
Straightforward is a marriage that abides by love,
Straightforward is a family that consumes love daily,
Daily the heart congregates with the mind,
Daily love collects feelings from the heart.
Heart that beats fast is a heart in excitement,
Heart which doesn’t feel emotions is better dead;
Dead is the heart that doesn’t love,
Dead is the mind that doesn’t think,
Think before you commit adultery,
Think before you jump into a bed for lust.
Lust is not love,
Lust is unclean.
Unclean is the mind which ponders of the flesh,
Unclean is the body that is uninhibited,
Uninhibited is the lover who fakes love,
Uninhibited is the heart without compassion;
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be controlled;
Controlled feelings bring sorrow,
Controlled emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is controlled.
Compassion is a must,
Compassion is a word of God;
God created love to be given sincerely,
God did not create a lover to be manipulated;
Manipulated feelings bring sorrow,
Manipulated emotions are dangerous;
Dangerous is a love of a promiscuous woman,
Sorrow shall accumulate if love is manipulated.
03/02/22
''B'' Forms, 10 Plus lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Girl are born. But not every time they are lucky enough to live. Many a times they are killed by their families who were expecting a boy child.
This poem captures dreams of a girl child. Her dream revolves around getting love, affection, acceptance from her parents but these dreams can never be fulfilled. Her destiny has something else in store for her.
Poem – My stupid little Dreams.
(Some dreams are never meant to be fulfilled)
My dream is to be born cuddling in my mother’s arms and staring in her eyes,
My dream is spending my childhood hopping in my father’s lap,
My father tickling me until I cry out of joy,
My dream is feeling my mother’s soft tender lips, as she kisses me wishing me
goodnight,
My dream is enjoying weekends hopping on my father’s back;
As he play a horse and I a brave knight,
My dream is to fall down, bruise my leg and watch my mother rushing out for me,
My dream is spending endless nights sitting beside my father,
His hands coiled around my neck, re-living my favorite bedtime stories,
My dream is treading on roads shimmering with sun rays escaping from canopy of trees that leads nowhere,
My dream is racing down endless streets crowded with people; teeming with life;
Happiness, fervor and excitement spread everywhere,
My dream is to live, prosper and watch all these and thousand other dreams come true,
But I won’t live long enough, so bye-bye dreams; I bid you adieu,
I have committed a sin, as grave as a crime,
My family needed a boy, but I am born a girl child,
My dreams, my wishes will stay alive with me till I am in my mother’s womb,
Seconds after I am born; they will travel with me to my final destination – my own personal tomb.
If born; No respect, no acceptance would have been the saga of my life,
Thanks to my father, he saved me, by taking my life.
No time for my dreams, I died paying for my sins,
Once born; I was send on a long vacation in some local dustbin.
I was born like a flower that could bloom and thrive
But I was plucked as a bud, never allowed to ripe,
Not only me there are thousands more lying in rains,
Moaning in pain, their blood gushing down the drains,
No more dreams, no more wishes just one cry,
O God! It’s enough. Please no more girl child.