Short Exclaiming Poems

Vespers of the falls,
Exclaiming the earth’s past pains;
Whispers in the mist....

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The angel works the tollbooth
Exclaiming commands for change
They are a barber on the side
with faded tattoo arms
Holding shears made of fire
coated in silent pious rage
Hiding blood in their thermos
Waiting for a Judgement day
...

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When the cosmic horn blows
Enchanting soul and spirit, miles 

Apart.. Draw closer, it says and
Reach for glory...  With one mind, 
Egged by the mysterious eschatology 

Of the end... Together, we shall all
Name one destiny, with one voice, 
Exclaiming, "WE ARE ONE!!!"...

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Children,
as tiny rays of sunlight
they play in the little field that I observe
with my tender eyes...
Sparks in me
with the happiness that I feel painted
in their blissful faces
with full joy...
I feel fully exclaiming to the heavens!
Toast to life!
Hey childhood... !...

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Thinking of you in everything I do;

gratefully, deep thoughts of you live on.

You are so missed- yet, promise it is true-

until my days expire and I am gone,

live memories remain while I pursue

exclaiming, “Mom, I love you still,” each dawn.
...

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Though taught 
to be prayerful:
“to pray
without ceasing”*
we are admonished
to tarry for answers…

taking heed 
not to become 
“prayer patients”
exclaiming this
to the Father above:
“Lord, give me
patience right now…”

for such is 
impatience
at work.

*1Thessalonians 5:17 Pray without ceasing.

August 5, 2019...

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• Back from a lengthy trip to the clinic
• Haven't taken my first injection
• My hands are constantly fumbling about
• Causing me to fail morning inspection
• Dad finds the hormones
• Exclaiming "what is this garbage?"
• Then he leaves me be
• My device is seen charging
•In its humble abode
• Can't use it while charging
• Else it would explode
...

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No hope.

Not even on birthdays or Christmas.

Opening presents, and smiling,

Exclaiming in joy, only to never speak of it again.
 
Then the next day is normal.

Just doing things that I am told are what we are meant to do in this life.

Like dusting around the house.

And breathing in the dust which is dry and rotting.

Just rotting, and rotting gracefully....

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a standing fish in moving streams
colliding currents sewn between
you’re perfect prey i dare to say
trapped inside your own routines

and you say claim to know the way
I dare so disagree
you far to quick abandon streets
not seeing where they lead
you’re far too quick exclaiming that
its change that will save me
when i could argue all the same
its patience that is key...

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Hester's a jester. Gutteral laughs.
A throaty, Ha! Ha! Bathe me in it.

Healthy and complete, please delete
All sadness, letting in only good stuff.

I can't get enough of Hester, a Jester.
More, more! Exclaiming with my glee! 

Be free. Break smiles to unbridled joy.
Not coy, with your gift to bring mirth.

I give birth to my girth to hear you so.
Stay, stay with me, and don't ever go....

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“All is verily the absolute Self.
Distinction and nondistinction do not exist. 
How can I say, "It exists; it does not exist"? 
I am filled with wonder!”


inner light caged
by ego upstaged
whenever tested
in jest we rested
feral lower mind
choosing love kind

awake in the dream
where illusions stream
the vaporised self
dances by itself
suffused with bliss
exclaiming ‘I am this’...

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What will you say
as we sing out of tune?

Will you stand up
and strike out
with me?

What would you do
if the world were insane
as a flat screen TV
proclaiming his need
to be me?

When will we see
with our Earth's lighter eyes
as we listen for win-win surprise
exclaiming our power
to become bicamerally dexterous we?

What will you sing
when we talk out of tune?

Will you strike out
and stand up
with me?...

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 Wind-driven, deceptive, mysterious,
cries vixen's pulsating, debauchery
with haunting arias, mesmerizing!
The lighthouse, fearlessly, captivated,
by siren's symphonic orchestrations 
shines brighter, exclaiming calamity!
She cautions vigilant navigators...
fog's mirage masquerades mortality!..


______________________________
Inspired by Nette's Contest: The Lighthouse
9/23/14  By Carrie Richards...

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As for our shown universe, to have maintained faith in its creator, reasons not, just to know his realm lay even beyond the many new stars past our own night's sky; whereas, these soon viewed as newborn points of light and distant to most, but when looked upon by the righteous few, therein each new star now shown joining in as the many manifested joyful tears - faithfully exclaiming exaltation to, "He who Causes to Become," - Jehovah our God!...

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Zest still lingering on the golden beach,
afar usher flocks of flowers of spring peach,
sprucely greeting ensemble yet snappily nodding each.   
Estrangement erased, elysian exclusives elope into earthlings' reach.


Pink petals, scapes o'er scapes, 
weave and wave boundless drapes;
bracing aroma, miles after miles,
spins and spreads serene smiles.

azure sky, exclaiming no such crafts in heaven yards;
disguised as radiant sunshine: her wistful regards....

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Many would spew their syrupy flair,
exclaiming that true love exists everywhere,
Yet, it is only in the minds of those who
perpetuate fairytales,
 
Because love hurts causing its victims to
grow weary and pale, love at its best may be 
compared to fair summer days but it has some
peculiar ways,

It is unpredictable to a fault, it makes the heart
feel heavier than a vault, no one really understands
its reasons, it just exists......

Fiddling with unsuspecting believers....

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The brook babbles
and rambles
over the rocks,
tumbling down
past the cabin
among the trees
at the foot
of the protecting mountain. Under the watchful eye
of deer
and bear 
and chipmunk.
In the intimacy of bedroom
the first desperate cry
of the newborn rises. 
Searching with foggy eye exclaiming existence
pondering purpose.
Unaware
the gift of life
paid for
by the giftee
in moment installments.
In far flung decades
returning to birthplace
facing the final portal....

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She knew the truth,
But smuggled it,
Underneath her weary cloak,
A thousand holes,
Peaking,
through

Worthy, is she?
Accomplished, a wise woman,
Exclaiming her wisdom,
Her shadows are hiding,
Through the murk of her foggy mind,
The silhouettes swims,
Her scars sing,

Wonderful her energy squeals,
Witness me!
Gallant her spirit,
Honor me!

Her voice, flaccid,
Life, resilient,
Silence, exuberant,
Strength, transcendent,

Fire, it roars,
Burns the whole,

H-E-R...

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Acceptance 
is not an instant 
shimmering golden 
key 
to a warm 
and brilliant
future. 

Pursuit 
pushes it away
into void
black. 
Acceptance 
is temperature on
vulnerable, naked
skin.
 
Then, 
you open up
letting in
truth. 
Exclaiming
to the heavens
"I am 
cold!"

This
does not cause
suffering to  
end.
Instead, 
the slow passage 
of patient 
time. 

Whispered 
promises of tomorrow's
life giving
sunshine; 
Warmth
and a new, 
brilliant morning
song....

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