Long Exclaims Poems
Long Exclaims Poems. Below are the most popular long Exclaims by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exclaims poems by poem length and keyword.
nobody on the beach today
but a little girl walking in circles
on the sand
she skips her way to me and asks
me what i am reading
i tell her i am writing a poem
she says 'oh, well can i hear it'
i notice that her voice is froggy
and i ask her if she has a cold
she said no, she has a rare throat
condition and that she just had her
seventh surgery on it
i ask her does it hurt to talk
she smiles at me and says 'only
when there is nothing to talk about'
i laugh and read her what i had written
she clapped and tells me it the few words
were the highlight of her day
i tell her meeting her was mine, and then
suddenly she begins to cry
she tells me she 'lives alone' and then says
'mommy is ashamed of me'
i then ask her why and she says' 'mommy
says the sound of my voice makes me ugly'
i tell her she lights up my life
she sits next to me and rests her head on my lap
still crying lightly
i then wipe away a few of her tears and ask her if she could
have ice cream
she nodded her head in anticipation and disbelief
i ask her what her favorite ice cream flavor is and she
exclaims 'BUBBLE GUM BLUE AND BUBBLE GUM PINK'
we walk down the beach a ways and cross the access to
ice cream place
i tell to get as many scoops as you want and she tells the lady
behind the counter 'four scoops in a cup please'
i lean against the wall and say to myself 'how can you not love
the radiant beauty of this little ray of sunshine'
we end up spending the rest of the day together until i tell her that
the sun was going down and that she needed to get home
she asked if she could stay with me, and i hated to tell her no, but
i do
real life has safety nets unlikable to man, but necessary for survival
i watch her wave sadly and walk away slowly with such depressing hesitation
i almost shed a tear, but i know deep within me that i have to move on
perhaps when i come back here at a later date i will see her smiling face again
however right now, all i can do is pray for her, accept the life that God has created, and let Him decide and do the rest
After the Occupational Therapist told me I’d never walk again (see my poem “What She Said”); I was in shock, but my being turned to my ballet days to recall when my legs were strong and I immediately wrote this, while listening to The Butterfly Concerto. It is a poem of my courage.
“THE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLY”
Oh! How she sparkles through her dance!
Tchaikovsky himself gazes from the stage’s wings
Applauding the height and instants of hesitation
Of her punctuating arabesques. He applauds
With his hands in his pockets, tapping the sides
Of his thighs and a tear of appreciation rises
In his eyes. There can be no doubt she has caught
The audience in her fluttering net, in her crossings
Of the stage so carried by the violin’s sweeps
Of the scales and the flute’s endearing notes
Of imitating a breeze-buoying flight.
But it is the ballerina herself who sets the gold
To crown his composed inspiration as she
Performs a pas de deux with his concerto!
The violin marks each pointe set to her chines.
The orchestra is a narrative riding her eclipses
Of beauty. The timpani exclaims her leaps.
With port de bras, from bow to extending reach,
Her arms become marigold wings...and
Her elan lifts her heart to address the stars.
The young girl, with her head above, yet sunken into,
The soft, cloud-like folds of her pillow, listens
To the riveting Butterfly Concerto sound up
Through the foam of her pillow
(Where her radio will not bother her parents)
...And her shoulders
Slightly rise with each crescendo. She inhales
At the peak of every releve, and, with a lifting of
Arms to barely cross above her head —
In elegant elan — before a rapid circling of the stage.
The music’s tempo mounts to conclusion. She
Takes an instant to feel she is performing her
Best...Surely, oh, surely,
Tchaikovsky, stands rapt
Aside the curtain wings, applauding.
**********************************
by sally Young eslinger 8/25/2020
Thanks be to God!
Rain drips as windchimes sway
Fog penetrates porch and all
Today no chance of outside play
Only on the porch while raindrops fall
Roosters desperately
Try to bring up the sun
As tree frogs croak sadly
Soft rain pitter patters doesn't run
In the distance, train whistles
It exclaims dinosaur remnants
Railway doesn't play a big part
Train only lingers in one's heart
Yesterday one could ride the rail
Maintain a lifestyle of freedom
On the open trail
Sway with the click-t-clack
As one road the train's strong back
Acquaintances once came fast
Decay set in now thing of past
Things change; life goes on only on God's track
February 14 Heart for God Bible Meditations Based on Numbers 7-8
Key Verse – Numbers 7:4-5 And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying, Take it of them, that they may be to do the service of the tabernacle of the congregation; and thou shalt give them unto the Levites, to every man according to his service.
HEART THAT ENJOYS SERVICE UNTO THE LORD
Our heart enjoys service unto the Lord along our trust
That proceeds from our spirit’s core and crust
Truly, we ask for His help so compassionately just
To overcome attacking carnal lust.
Our heart enjoys service unto the Lord along our supplication
That expresses our dependence on His action
Truly, we lean on His goodness-perfection
To go toward right direction.
Our heart enjoys service unto the Lord along our despair
That manifests our feelings of futility midst worthlessness’ stare
Truly, we entreat for His revival for our spiritual welfare
To escape from worldliness’ destructive affair.
Our heart enjoys service unto the Lord along our repentance
That shows our grief devoid of rebellious resistance
Truly, we need His ready assistance
To aspire for eternal importance.
Our heart enjoys service unto the Lord along our sighing
That exposes our frustrations over unmet goals with distress-bringing
Truly, we beg for His upholding to which we are cleaving
To move on despite failures that are tremendously attacking.
Our heart enjoys service unto the Lord along our surrender
That exhibits our submission against being an arrogant pretender
Truly, we seek for His approval along His mercies so tender
To labour well with our best and utmost to render.
Our heart enjoys service unto the Lord along our gratitude
That exclaims our worshipful attitude
Truly, we beseech His guidance for ministry-fortitude
To continue in His will by His satisfaction’s latitude.
February 14, 2026
When I take my nephew
to the park to play basketball,
I look around to spot trolls
who litter and destroy.
" Look at those hoodlooms,
how they behave and talk! "
" They are my friends " he
exclaims. " Your friends?
Has your mom met them? "
" Scondrels and slanderers
have the foul smell of rats in a sewer;
they scatter soda cans everywhere
and say words we never dare to say! "
I notice that I have embarassed him:
his bond of friendship seems stronger
than the depictable things he sees;
he'll try to defend them, then he lowers
his head and admits they aren't worthy keeping
if they are always getting in trouble! "
He asks me taking another look at them.
" It's very obvious how pitiful they are
with thin bodies and scruffy appearance...
do they ever go home and eat dinner,
or even take a shower and study hard? "
" No, " he replies with a saddening look.
" Do you consider them friends or worthless boys?"
" They are both, uncle!, I am ashamed of them. "
I wanted you to see what they become
without putting words in your mouth...
their bad upbringing reflects their personality
and their behavior; I must blame their parents
for the freedom they shouldn't have! "
And turning to him with a mellow smile,
" You like to go to college and be a basketball player? "
" Yes, uncle. " he whispered with a glow
that sparked joy in his intelligent eyes.
Written on 10/26/2016
Our Stolen Moment
*
It is early morning,
we are on our way to
Provincetown, Cape Cod.
*
The radio is playing
one of our favorite songs.
I smile at you
in your white halter top,
blue jeans and
bare feet with polished red nails
on the dashboard.
*
Oh my god, you say
our favorite song is playing.
You start to sing.
Your hungry voice
taking shrill bites
out of a song by Journey.
*
Provincetown Inn
is where we will stay.
After the unpacking
we lay on the bed, hug, and say,
“See you in a couple hours.”
*
Upon waking, we make love.
“Do we do it better in motel rooms?”, she asks.
“It's the ocean air.” I suggest.
“Of course, that's it. The all too familiar smell of the sea air”, she exclaims.
*
After showering, dressing
then downing a quick coffee
we go to our favorite eatery
for a late lunch.
*
The day is sunny, warm
with a light ocean breeze.
After lunch, we browse the gift shops
and purchase a few items,
to remember our trip, by.
*
In Provincetown center
there is MacMillan Pier,
and we walk to the end
where an empty bench, awaits us.
*
I place my arm around her,
she cuddles and says, “I love you.”
I pull her closer.
Looking out over the ocean
our breaths in sync
she says, “It doesn't get any better than this.”
*
I say, “I want to shout out, my love for you”
“No, sweetheart, you can't, we must remain quiet.”
“Why my love?”
“It's our stolen moment.”
I'm trying to count on these fingers the umbrellas
I've lost on windy days: wasn't it hard chasing them?
And swallowing raindrops, I challenged the mayhem!
Wasn't it funny laughing at the desperate fellows?
I'm drenched and so mad walking home a half mile,
doing this weary walk was a mere, worthless dime;
the nicest lady invited me in, " Drunk some tea, Jeff,
it'll do you good: wait until this rain tempers off! "
We chat while drinking tea and eating a delicious cake,
" I just moved in a week ago, I love this peaceful town! "
Lilian exclaims with a delightfulness of cheerful clown;
I thank her saying," Not many people can really bake! "
I get up and hug her, she does resemble my pretty mom,
" You are welcome anytime, neighbor; the door is always open! "
And with joyfulness in her glance, she's broken her norm;
I look up and sunlight peaks through: I wave at the pale sun!
This hi-tech table set unfolds unfair
For words inscribed to turn romances ripe,
Since just by finger-click can loves compare
Verse penned for they against their archetype.
Alexandria’s tomes are phone condensed
The same as Congress holds its truths we scroll;
And though indignance now is evidenced,
I do confess at times I online stroll.
But seriously - What cruel circumstance!
If mine was paint - sad Lisa’s moans you’d hear!
da Vinci’s grin exclaims I’ve got no chance
To stir feminine swoons, near well as Shakespeare.
Instead, self-conscious rhymes self-pity lurch,
From fear my muse knows how to Google search.
1/31/2017
"Nope, nope, nope! I already know why you're here. Don't you dare fell me with that chainsaw!," exclaims the dying tree.
"Well, I need firewood. It's rather obvious you've seen better days", I said.
"Why shouldn't I cut you down?," I asked.
"Because I could spring back to life," the tree replies.
"Spring back to life? Ha! Look at you. You're quite literally a shell of your own self; stripped of leaves. You truly expect to sprout new blossoms?"
"Well, impatient man, I'm still standing, aren't I?,"
asked the tree, with a hint of irritation
"You call this standing? The autumn wind is not your friend. You don't look erect to me.You're fighting a losing battle," I retorted.
"The fact is, I haven't toppled yet. Just leave me alone," says the tree, frustratingly.
"Who says you have to topple? The fact is, you're clearly on your last legs, or should I say, leg?" I asked.
"Ha! How funny(sarcastically). Wouldn't you choose to stay alive as long as possible if you were me? I need more time. Why not come back after spring?," pleads the tree.
"Your tenacity is admirable, but you're already disintegrating. What makes you think you'd survive the Fall season?," I wondered.
"I'm not getting through to you, am I?," says the tree.
"Nope!, "I replied, emphatically.
"No changing your mind, huh?"
"I'm afraid you're bargaining to the wrong guy," I said.
"Fine! You win. Cut me down. Enjoy your firewood, says the dying tree, with resignation.
Date written: 06/15/2023
"Nothing to Fear"
"We never know when death will come,
so I cast my worries aside.
When I first heard the news,
my heart went numb,
and then the diagnosis I denied.
Finally acceptance came as I cried.
Sands are pouring through the hourglass,
but faith now saves me from fear.
The beauty of heaven waits and I have a pass.
At God’s plan, I will not sneer
as I prepare to approach a blessed frontier."
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2012
This poem of Carolyn Devonshire exposes her faith, exclaims her trust in God, and expresses her perspective of death --- that it is not to be feared. I am personally blessed by this muse since it exhorts me to view death in a biblical way. According to 2Corinthians 5:8, “We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.” Likewise, this reverberates her comments to my poems, which I treasure as a Christian writer in being “vocal” about my spiritual beliefs.
August 26, 2021
Contest Name: Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry: An Uncontest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich