Long Exclamations Poems
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Patrolling the jungle, testosterone surging, muscles finely tuned
He stumbles upon Jane swimming naked, in an open lagoon
This handsome stallion stopped dead, beside waters edge
Me Tarzan, she just smiles, stepping out by thin hedge
Standing before her, beads of sweat glisten his well toned chest
Long mane of hair, ripped biceps, a specimen, alpha the best
Spellbound as she kisses, hush my baby just let it happen
Breathing heavily, in submission, Tarzan oozing passion
Dynamic forces at play, in virgin jungle, latency is being woken
Pheromones, endorphins, gushing rivers, packing implosions
Arboreal creatures gaze down, with perplexed trepidation
Positions below change, moans turn into exclamations
Her statuesque body, his athletic frame, create perfect recipes
Both out of control, relentless, inexorable pain, and ecstasy
OH-EE-OH-EE-OH-EE-AW-EE-AW, Tarzan roars exultation
My God you beast! says Jane, an indirect translation
Not finished only getting started, she too is insatiable for more,
Naked in the wilderness, aesthetic bodies, primed to explore
With a Herculean physique, Tarzan’s pulse keeps on giving
Jane meets halfway, this goddess takes every collision
So marathons ensue, flesh upon flesh, tugging pushing delight
Lusting thrusting each other to a standstill, going until night
Tarzan swings her home, a safari campsite nestles nearby
Same time place tomorrow, you got a rematch big boy.
OH-EE-OH-EE-OH-EE-AW-EE-AW, triumphs with joy
By
David kavanagh
MAKE LOVE NOT WAR
I feel the need to say a real loud poem,
A poem full of WAILS!! HOWLS!! and YELPS!!
It doesn’t need to be about anything at all,
But if it is then I guess that that helps.
AAAARR!! Now that feels better,
BOOM!! THRASH!! BAP!! WHAM!! and BAM!!!
Just like in the comics of old there’s a VRAP!! SMACK!! ZAP!!
Then a CRUNCH!! and a BIFF!! and a SLAM!!
Actually, in the comics of old, it was profoundly loud,
With all the yelling and fighting.
Those words were in yellow, in bright red shiny stars.
It was all so thrillingly exciting.
With a KABOOM!! and a THUD!! the hero saved the damsel.
Then a POP!! and a sudden KABANG!!
The hero was muscle bound, long hair and strong jaw.
Always one man against a whole gang.
Imagine writing poems where words can be invented,
Just block letters with two exclamations.
BONK!! or WHACK!! followed by WHUMF!! or PHOOMPH!!
Even your words are your own creations.
Written 19th march 2016 but never for any contest..... Till now :)
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)
“A Reckoning of Illumination”
Autumn winds fall delicately upon my weary soul
Light from a heavenly place surrounds my interpretation of the scripture
Elemental hues of grace cascade down from the enlightened sky
A mystical proposition of truth sets the somber filaments of inquisition ablaze
As the Herculean sun lays bereft in the unforgiving atmosphere of the eloquent horizon
There we walk with reverence of all knowledge and wisdom toward the inherent peace of the celebrating land
Ensconced within an intimate haze of glory and intrigue
The chorus of an angelic choir vibrates through clouds
Reflective insight about the complexities of the entirety of man
Resounds in all it’s simplistic convolution, governed by the infallible laws of the natural world
A prayer from an innocent heart rings out through the land
The whisper of a Holy current moves, leaving glacial imprints upon the water
The gentle caress of emotional morning sunlight touches the surface of my skin
And I am bound by the integrity of this earth to continue to breathe
As the emblems and symbols of revolution evolve with the marking of a new dawn
Respite from the suffering of solitude descends upon the crescent moon
While the epitome of liberty and elation exalts across the sentimental elements of fire
Come toward me, together we shall depart unto this torrid pathway of uncertainty and lament
And brace ourselves for the beauty and bountiful exclamations of indisputable divine inspiration
As we lay there upon the ancient ground, listening to time itself combine with entropy
To create a never before seen moment of purity that transcends youth and hope and lies
So that we may return to our deliverance,
Where the weary souls must rest and wait for the essence of existence to reveal itself
Through the intrinsic absence of thought pouring through the atmosphere of our minds
Copyright Elizabeth Moroz 2024
My food is simple, unlike my music
Most of the time I spend in excellent company
My muse is unobtrusive and only appears with dessert
If I were vain, I would compare my work
To the labour of Sisyphus, but incidentally, I don't consider it meaningless:
I see more meaning in the fall of a boulder than, for example,
In the jumps of parachutists who risk getting tangled in their straps
But vanity is infinitely inventive, I like to observe
The tricks of the psyche that justify these pleasures
My music seems abstract, although it is merely
Autobiographical, and therefore translatable into the language of emotions,
At least in allusive episodes
Although I am not inclined to reproduce ready-made formulas
To serve as a worn-out armchair for the audience
I am for leaving the comfort zone for the zone of sadness
The zone of rhetoric of deliberate inconveniences, where I am like a fish in water
I ask questions and answer them myself, or
I simply ignore myself, thereby mocking my
Scattered plebeian curiosity.
If the crowd listened to my ellipses and exclamations,
My falling cupboards and jokes at funerals
Would be appreciated and supported,
And I would be recognised as a genius, for which, of course,
I would apologise to the crowd, even though their romantic ideals
Are utterly nauseating, but well paid.
But the number of simpletons is truly infinite
It is inversely proportional to the number of geniuses
Cynics write music for the crowd
Something like Yesterday and Candle on the Wind
And my indulgent attention goes unnoticed
My subtle jokes do not elicit smiles
And therein lies my happiness as an avant-gardist
Success would destroy me, but the indifference of the noosphere
Prolongs my life, which I pay for
With my music of spheres, squares and tendons.
Autumn
Let us begin in the current season, Not the season of beginnings but of seasoning.
Leaves bold
Wise, old
Winter
Hither it comes, white or gray, falling, failing, smarting, incredibly enlightening.
Lets go
New show
Spring
New birds of millenials herded into facebook frames, those cribs engaged with each month’s age. I look on, remembering how this boomer’s recollection is in a box, more than one.
Face crib
Ad lib
Summer
Watch those new birdies fly. Life is fleeting. Parents hold onto their wings, sometimes clipping. Grandparents no longer open their wallets to show their pride, but with much more intensity and videos, besides, put the kids front and center for thumbs up, hearts, exclamations, tears, never anger.
Emotes
Devotes
I'm lover not a fighter,
me spilling exclamations
instead of blood,
its what I resamble,
the ink in my viens that paints not images
but setting reactions on the loose.
Please! blame me not,
creativity is access,
mean not to invade
but i'm without bearings,
this din in my words,
put flames to my surrounding,
I mean not to brag,
help me extinguish this overflow
in my system,
it just can't be contained,
it wanna consume everything before me,
like a natural disaster,
my presence devastates,
tie your attentions,
before i'm charged for being creative.
I am poetic ink.
not to dilute your egoes
but to uproot your reactions,
like acid,
i'm here to burn not your minds
but your word perspective and perception.
I said it i'm poetry
not that I was born of poetry
but soldiered enough
in gathering meaning
from all sources to your presence,
of what poetry is.
#Poetic_Ink
I'm finding myself
Inside many sanguine moods
Inside many inviting worlds
All in anticipation
Of love
Not for anyone
Or anything
In particular
Just looking deep within
And deep beyond
The surface matters
That clog our anemic hearts
That jail our vapid senses
From welcoming epiphanies,
Ecstasies and
Electric declarations
That await our famished souls
From stoking incitements,
Boisterous joys
And elegant, mystical memories
Burning to lash out
Into indelible grins of
Happiness and you-so-deserve-this
Maybe it's this music
Charged with classical tantrums
And movie-like maudlin exclamations
Maybe it's my past revving up
With ghosts more handsome
And meaningful than ever
Or maybe it's my dreams
After years of desperate confusion,
Fractured esteem and salty embraces
Finally granted permission
To live in vividness
To dance the hues
The conniptions of color
Drooling endlessly from the mouths of our precious ids and willing egos
Summoning self, compassion and sacrifice
To adrenalin's edge
To flesh-removing, death-imbibing levels
This is where love resides
Here is where I visit
Here is where I wish to stay.
(7/2/12)
Having seen an endless hall
doors either side,
I wandered,
a white dingo
joined me
at magnolia runners end
my blood turned to take flight
his fangs crept to
a grimace
as he leaps
Now,
with paws on my shoulders
he laps
from the river coursing
my face
I release what I thought
were exclamations
of a beginning
enlightenment
and brush to cross the fire
searing within my flesh
his mouth took my hand
leading me to the first
of many doors
this is my totem
the path I shall follow
this is just the beginning
my hand rests in destiny’s
soft white coat
stilled
Ancient detour
Route to nowhere;
Stray moments meet
~~~~~~~~~
Inward journey
Mind seeks heart;
Soul matters most
~~~~~~~~~
Blue moon arcs
Misty mystic mood;
Stillness blooms
~~~~~~~~~
Touch of sad feel
Emotions linger;
Loss entangles
~~~~~~~~~
In your eyes
Truth is telling;
Charming gaze
~~~~~~~~~
Dusk comes now
Abrupt sweep;
Attires dark sky
~~~~~~~~~
Stray purple hues
Floral exclamations;
Garden gate creepers
~~~~~~~~~
Family gathering
Cheery promontory;
Celebrate good cheer
~~~~~~~~~
Beauty greets grace
Touch of fond face;
Time allures space
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
02 September 2019
Singapore