"applause" poems
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo,
the three of them frozen:
Enrique by the world of beds;
Emilio by the world of eyes and wounded hands;
Lorenzo by the world of roofless universities.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three of them burned:
Lorenzo by the world of leaves and billiard *****
Emilio by the world of blood and white pins;
Enrique by the world of the dead and abandoned newspapers.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three of them buried:
Lorenzo in one of Flora's *******
Emilio in the dead gin forgotten in the glass;
Enrique in the ant, the sea, and the empty eyes of birds.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three in my hands were
three Chinese mountains,
three shadows of a horse,
three landscapes of snow and a cabin of white lilies
by the pigeon coops where the moon lies flat under the rooster.
One
and one
and one,
the three of them mummified,
with the flies of winter,
with the inkwells the dog ****** and the thistle despises,
with the breeze that freezes theh eart of all the mothers,
by the white ruins of Jupiter where drunks snack on death.
Three
and two
and one,
I saw them disappear, crying and singing
into a hen's egg,
into the night that showed its skeleton of tobacco,
into my sorrow full of faces and piercing bone splinters of moon,
into my happiness of whips and notched wheels,
into my breast troubled by pigeons,
into my deserted death with one mistaken wanderer.
I had killed the fifth moon
and the fans and the applause drank water from the fountains.
Hidden away, the warm milk of newborn girls,
shook the roses with a long white sorrow.
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo,
Diana is hard,
but somtimes she has ******* of clouds.
The white stone can beat in the blood of a deer
and the deer can dream through the eyes of a horse.
When the pure forms sank
under the cri cri of daisies
I understood they had murdered me.
They searched the cafés and the graveyards and churches,
they opened the wine casks and wardrobes,
they destroyed three skeletons to pull out their gold teeth.
Still they couldn't fine me.
They couldn't?
No. They couldn't.
But they learned the sixth moon fled against the torrent,
and the sea remembered, suddenly,
the names of all her drowned.
20.5k
Back in the days of old
when knights were bold
who with a sword or lance
in armour sought romance.
It was the age of chivalry
long ago in man’s history
when to fight for a righteous cause
one did gain considerable applause.
It was mainly for show, love and glory
they deemed themselves being worthy
to capture the heart of some fair maiden
which was the most desired prize laden.
Oh, they would strike heavy blows
on all of their opponents and foes
in a one to one combat defying death
as crowds watched with abated breath.
Yes, it was far back in those days of yore
that courage and strength came to the fore
where there was this life and death struggle;
such issues at hand the knights would juggle.
And in fighting for their country, faith and king
noble impressions on people’s minds would ring
that even through the ages are held in high esteem
those knights in shinning armour do now all seem.
There are many legends based on their heroic exploits
a legacy of tales which have been told with much adroit
highlighting aspects of human wisdom related to virtue and vice
and the lessons to be learnt are those of goodness and sacrifice.
History usually repeats itself time and again
as it often happens a situation comes when
we’re asked to do something for a just cause
and acting with chivalry we shouldn’t pause.
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 10:20 AM UTC
Be kind to yourself.
You have come so far.
Each emotion you feel tattooed
to your skin
the seasons wash away like chalk.
Be kind to yourself.
You are braver than you thought.
No longer scared of what lies
beneath your bed
but what awaits when you wake up.
Be kind to yourself.
You are worthy of love.
Only you give permission
for forked tongues
to leave passing words as lasting scars.
Only you can adopt old failures
and stack them as obstacles
upon each new path.
You cannot dictate what will be
only – who you are.
Be kind to yourself.
You are doing enough.
You cannot always be switched on.
Sometimes you have to lay down
and breathe –
it is not greed.
If you are always exhausted
you cannot help anybody.
Be kind to yourself.
You did not grow
from a single cell
born from a dying star
in order to feel so small.
You did not close the door
on friends when you expected
more from them.
Why beat yourself up
for who you were before?
Be kind to yourself.
A faltering dancer who gets up
again and again
draws the loudest applause
at the curtain call.
A person who spent half their life
at war with themselves
knows the value of peace,
the feat of getting out the house;
the measure of good mental health.
Be kind to yourself.
You have come so far.
They say ten thousand hours
is the time it takes
to master an art.
You spent so much longer than that
learning the patterns of your heart.
You can pull at those common threads
that keep you together
even when you are falling apart.
Be kind to yourself.
You are stronger than you thought.
Like Leonard says,
“there’s a crack of light in everything. “
You do not have to be perfect.
You do not have to live in the dark.
Be kind to yourself.
Make sure you get to the end.
Do not worry
how you stumbled at the start.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
Slipping into my apron,
Hungry in body and soul
Humming as a song played...
I grab my knife and chop-board
Unsure of what to cook
Strange inspirations possess me
Filling me with *****
My kitchen becomes a stage
In my hands- a plectrum and fretboard
Silver utensils- my live audience!*
As I play divine recipes
Strumming master acoustic chords
Chopping fresh, colorful vegetables.
I dash to the remote,
Punch "Repeat" and dash back on stage
Landing on E♭ minor,
Scaling impossible notes,
I slice with razor-sharp plectrum,
On onions and other root chords
My fret arrayed with colors,
Of spinach, lettuce, tomatoes
Carrots, potatoes, olives
Pepper, cabbage and cucumbers.
I hear a thunder of applause
As I ignite the cooker
Butter sizzling in the hot pan
A staccato of sharp notes,
*Ready to modulate innocent vegetables
Through spicy aromatic crescendos!*
I fight hard to suppress a sneeze,
No sneezing on-stage! Unprofessional!
Multitudes of seconds rush by and…
Voila!!!
I stand for a moment
Salivating, awed at my bravura!
Wishing I could hang it on my wall
Tis beautiful like art
But I can’t eat this cake and have it!
So I dig in…
Heaven and earth kiss for a moment
L U S C I O U S!!!
Luckily, it didn’t taste nauseating
Like my last attempt.
No time for ceremonies
I munch from pan to mouth
Pausing for what may pass for a prayer,
I relish every bite!
Not that I’m a foodie or something,
But nothing beats this combo-
Of good food and soul music.
And yes,
*Music is indeed food to the soul!*
I devour, in view- the next meal...
© Raphael Uzor
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
A graceful water weaving dolphin
swirls wakes of gentle waves -
a white, silver blue phantom
shimmering in the noonday sun.
Piercing the surface,
she dances an aquatic ballet
of corkscrew pirouettes
and majestic somersaults.
Diving beneath the spray
she churns her engine upward -
soaring through the flaming hoop
to the "oohs" and applause
of a throng of short-sleeved hominids
bleachered beyond the rails.
Plunging into quiet depths,
she lingers for a moment
perhaps to recall the fresh sea air
and the borderless waters
in the golden days before the ships came.
January, 2007
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
Steady rain falling
end of a five act day
applause
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
I stand in the middle of the room
My classmates are commanded to listen to me
I am the 14th person to present and so far, everyone has done a good job
I stand in the middle of the room
I begin to saw the name of my project
“My Poem”
I cannot remember what it was about
I do remember, what I felt
I stand in the room,
Hoping that everyone feels what I felt when I was writing it
I felt excited, my stomach had ‘butterflies’ I think
I felt the heat in my heart and the cold on my shoulders.
I felt the tingles all over my body, and the air escaping me
I stood in the middle of the room
I stand in the middle of the room
I was in the middle of the room and said
“My poem”
I heard a chuckle.
I ignored it because the ‘in love’ heart in my chest was more excited than It should have been
I continues and my voice began to play tricks on me
And the r’s rolled and the words were suddenly in another language
My mind still ignored it and continues
Because I felt I could write, and read this and everyone could love it
I stood in the middle of the room,
I waited for the, applause, the smiles, the congrats, or even a simple ‘good job’ like everyone else
Instead…
My teacher said, work on pronunciation. She said it again. Pro-noun-ci-a-tion
Ok. ‘Work on grammar.’ ‘Work on sentence structure’
“Work on being American” the chuckle said
Or the person who chuckled?
It didn’t mean much, you know
I loved writing so much that it did not matter
I would be a writer, I would continue to
STAND in the middle of the room and share my talent
And when I did, he chuckled
She chuckled, I was Mexican
Not a writer. Writers can’t be Mexican
Unless you write in Spanish and in Mexico
But I was too American for that at this point…
SO the next time I wrote I was ashamed,
Maybe if someone else wrote my writing?
But it didn’t matter,
When the teacher began reading,
The chuckle reminded the class it was the ‘Mexican’ who wrote it
“Mi nina” My mom would say
She reminded me that no only was I Mexican
I was a woman,
Only men thrive in this world
I believed it
And that is why my name is ‘The Voice’
Not my actually name,
Disclosure: I accept criticism on how to better my writing
NOT on what to write or on my background
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
#Preface
This is not aimed at a single person, nor written for applause. It is a naming, a mirror, a reminder that truth spoken with accountability carries its own fire. The Witness belongs to anyone willing to bear that flame, even for a moment.
This is not accusation, but naming in clarity:
Projection is the currency.
The herd is the instrument.
Seduction is the method.
Obscurity is the shield.
And when truth enters,
it unsettles the herd.
The first defense is always the lullaby..
soft verses sung to calm the trembling,
to cradle the anxious back into sleep.
But the lullaby is no vision;
it is anesthesia, a narcotic of words.
It soothes so that no one questions
the darkness that holds them.
Yet the mantle descends where it will.
A word spoken in accountability burns like flame,
piercing the fog, shattering the spell.
Even for a moment, it breaks the hold
and shows the rulers for what they are:
*unclothed,
powerless,
undone.*
#
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
Haughty Sphinx, whose amber eyes
Hold the secrets of the skies,
As thou ripplest in thy grace,
Round the chairs and chimney-place,
Scorn on thy patrician face:
Rise not harsh, nor use thy claws
On the hand that gives applause—
Good-will only doth abide
In these lines at Christmastide!
9.4k
Oh Generational gap, a cancer of to all mankind. The father of lack of communication between the young and the old. A difference brought about the tastes and values.
The pain faced between young and aged but can’t be touched. It started by 1960’s the decades of revolutionary change. It cut across the world in values of *** religion and civil rights. The disease the emerged earned its self a name by social scientists. It then became “Generational Gap”
I would love to quote a man of great thoughts, Alexis De Tocqueville, who commented that;
“Among democratic nations, each generation is a new people” I have come to appreciate these words.
When I walk down the streets noticing the rising incompatibility existing in our society
Though I admire the old days when the old and young associated freely, working on the same farms
Grandparents telling stories to their little ones; what a lovely society they had.
With the invention of television and computers some families were bonded in communication
While others live in agony especially the illiterate.
The old desire different designs from the youth, whose trends change per living day of nakedness
Young people prefer working in executive places like offices compared to the donkey farm work considered to be for the old
Another cause of generational gap is decay in morals; the young people feel like they know everything and don’t like to be corrected thus taking information from old people as outdated, young people finding lots of hardships to great their elders
In the field of music elders prefer oldies and more preferably educative songs, and as for the youths they delight in Hip-hop and dancehall, am sure those present here can testify to this a term with no disco dances makes us dull students.
When it comes to religious issues, youth find it a burden to go to church and if they offer to go they prefer it to be in a club way. Praise and worship accompanied by jazz unlike the old days where drums are the centre of music.
Cultures in this way have greatly faded away; the trend of western culture has flamed up the world.
Drugs and *** are a hobby and celebrated amongst the youth, yet *** to the old was for companionship and co-creation.
But when we came to medical technology we all applause in general, young or old there is easy treatment, use of scanners, and medical facilities cuts across.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
I thought I would be raising a glass to freedom.
But my counterparts didn't know that history had its eyes on us.
The choices seemed apparent,
Yet, we have been left bewildered and scrambling -
Wondering whether we did all we can.
My glass is raised to freedom -
The end of freedom.
History has repeated itself.
The beginning of the end.
And thunderous applause filled the amphitheater.
Those that have felt wronged have decided the fates of those that have had no wrong doing.
Two exes.
One overwhelming Y...
It's ineffable.
We may weep and mourn today.
We may weep and mourn tomorrow.
We may be frozen in the moment -
But our legacy isn't etched in stone.
It can be changed by us all if we choose..
These sleepless nights will wear us down.
The disrupted R.E.M. may disrupt our rest.
But we must only rest until we are capable to go on.
And when we move, we will move as a force of love.
Love will oust the darkness that has descended upon us.
Love will out.
Truth will out.
We will endure the worst and rise.
And then we will raise a glass to freedom.
We will raise a glass to all.
We will raise a glass and drink to the revolution-
The revolution that will be a beacon of light for those that need it most.
In a sea of red we will be the silver lining
In a sea of red we will be the light.
We will call those home.
We will call to those that need us most.
We will be united against the fear.
We will rise and rise and rise.
We will rise until lambs become lions.
We will overcome.
We will show them that we cannot be killed or swept aside.
We will rise up.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
I am a caged animal, not a human being.
Not a caged bird, though I know why it sings.
More like a circus lion, forced to jump rings,
The world is my audience
And everywhere I walk is the stage.
People say I’m free to walk but someone keeps me caged,
The crowd gives applause,
And point their fingers,
I’m enraged.
I’m just an angry *** animal, not a human being.
I have animalistic behavior and beastly features,
Can an animal be a savior and a beast a preacher?
We’re all God’s creatures,
But what you see is an animal caged,
Like I’m not a human being.
Even though I’m on this stage,
There’s not a being more human than me.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 12:18 AM UTC
What a sight to see
Your perfection shining through my flaws
A reflection so pure the universe comes to a stop
Pauses in applause
She declaws the frightened dog that learned to act one with the wolves
It pulls me
Yet pushes me greater
For my soul it is the knower of all
The wisest translator
The pen
And paper
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
when thou hast taken thy last applause,and when
the final curtain strikes the world away,
leaving to shadowy silence and dismay
that stage which shall not know thy smile again,
lingering a little while i see thee then
ponder the tinsel part they let thee play;
i see the large lips vivid, the face grey,
and silent smileless eyes of Magdalen.
The lights have laughed their last;without,the street
darkling awaiteth her whose feet have trod
the silly souls of men to golden dust:
she pauses on the lintel of defeat,
her heart breaks in a smile—and she is Lust….
mine also, little painted poem of god
7.6k
poetry readings have to be some of the saddest
****** things ever,
the gathering of the clansmen and clanladies,
week after week, month after month, year
after year,
getting old together,
reading on to tiny gatherings,
still hoping their genius will be
discovered,
making tapes together, discs together,
sweating for applause
they read basically to and for
each other,
they can't find a New York publisher
or one
within miles,
but they read on and on
in the poetry holes of America,
never daunted,
never considering the possibility that
their talent might be
thin, almost invisible,
they read on and on
before their mothers, their sisters, their husbands,
their wives, their friends, the other poets
and the handful of idiots who have wandered
in
from nowhere.
I am ashamed for them,
I am ashamed that they have to bolster each other,
I am ashamed for their lisping egos,
their lack of guts.
if these are our creators,
please, please give me something else:
a drunken plumber at a bowling alley,
a prelim boy in a four rounder,
a **** guiding his horse through along the
rail,
a bartender on last call,
a waitress pouring me a coffee,
a drunk sleeping in a deserted doorway,
a dog munching a dry bone,
an elephant's **** in a circus tent,
a 6 p.m. freeway crush,
the mailman telling a ***** joke
anything
anything
but
these.
7.7k
Walk onto a stage called life
and take a look around.
There's much to be found in such a small space,
more to give and much to take
as the curtains called and you're pulled into this performance.
Stare into the audience and pray for applause
but what if you're met with silence?
Spotlight on you as your hopes are ejected
and you my friend have just been rejected
and that is a hard thing to take.
So take a seat, a rejection seat.
Front row to your failures as they come In-ter-view.
Call it the Dragons Den the Lions Pit
and yet they ask me what kind of animal i'll be
as i sit and daydream about Spiderman in a suit
listing qualities of make believe
as he's forced to fill in a CV just like me;
not that i'm a superhero,
i'm just saving face you see,
it's just an amusing thought to ease the anxiety.
And the voluntears they come in turn.
Call em that cause they come momentarily
to remind me involuntarily
that sometimes i do need help and not all things are easy,
not all things are meant to be.
So i take a seat, will you take one with me?
As you watch that relationship sail
and wonder how did it fail?
Bon voyAge is irrelevant.
Whether it be school crush folly to divorcee
it's a learning curve right?
Hard when it seems the only thing you taught me
is what it means to feel lonely.
It's cold in that place called the one way street,
so take a seat. Pull up a chair to something that's no longer there
and share in despair as you stare at your feet.
But you will raise your head eventually.
Adopt the thinkers pose, indulge in some feelosophy.
Cause a friend once said to me that rejection is a time for reflection
and i tend to agree.
So tell me, as i stare into the face of rejection
why is it that i see my own reflection?
Am i cursed to take this personally?
It's always the shoulda, woulda, couldas that get to me.
Do they get to you?
If so take a seat.
And are you sitting uncomfortably?
Cause you shouldn't be.
Take comfort as you stare along row upon row of chairs
that stretch along beyond you and me.
Side to side, across from and diagonally.
Filling the Feartre.
There's many to be found in such a small space,
more that give and much that take
and though this may be the closing scene
there's another show tomorrow
and you and I will receive our standing ovation,
just take my hand and stand with me.
Cause this seat was only ever meant to be temporary.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
A third down my life
Assuming living till 75 or so
I stood with pride
Waving profusely towards the younger me
Vulnerable age
Anxiously lost
Yet,
I seek for your salvation and comfort
So Brave, Silly and Bold
Even in great fear you step out for the unknown
Applause for your courage
Appreciate your sincerity
Adore your ignorance
Mostly
Being Awkward with yourself
Avoiding intimidation with the world
Used to loath the sight of humans
Endless introductions
Just drained the helpless soul
A third down the road
Accepting new faces
Enjoying small talks
Occasionally misplaced myself as well
Still,
I Am become a statement to hold
At ease with my presence
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
Running amok black bellies of hail-clouds
divest their hard cargo
on near-ready harvest and thunder claps
in spiteful applause.
Scudding sails of racing white galleons
arrive to the rescue
and change weather's position as quiet
breaches gale's disorder.
Setting the sun throws magenta feathers
across dark horizon
and to settle the issue parades jade tints
as the landscape transforms.
Waiting small boats plod homewards in
fish-laden formation
while wives run to stoke hot-kettled fires
of ready bath water.
Lighting a pathway half-moon winks as
heavier catches in
hauled nets silver the harbour and men
start night's final performance.
Sating hunger with coming and going
sow-and-reap women know
the meaning of sharing male labour in
scaling and salting chores.
Fisher-folks' world begins and ends
with the vagaries and quirks of weather.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
A fitness woman who had a boyfriend who didn’t train
But the love affair that did remain
The fitness woman being named Jennifer who always took care of her body even when she was in her teens
Yet Ted being her boyfriend really didn’t have any interest in exercise
But it was Fitness Jennifer that captivated Ted’s eyes
It wasn’t until Jennifer introduced Ted to a competing male bodybuilder named William
Ted Seemed Ah and noticed all his muscle detail protruding through his T-Shirt of William
Later Ted went home and gave a good thought that maybe he should try exercising and thought about William in giving him guidance
Fitness and muscle running through Ted’s mind
But will it convince Ted to exercise with the thought divined
Well barbells became Ted’s start in train
William who was a competing Bodybuilder to help Ted through various exercises in helping Ted establish his own physique
Well things were on go with the idea of mystique
In a span of two years, Ted now had a muscular physique that he could be proud of, and was thinking about stepping onto the Bodybuilding platform
Well Fitness Jennifer gave Ted all the encouragement he needed
Persuasion became defined into pursue
It was all the encouragement coming from Fitness Jennifer due
Ted stepped on stage for the first time, and was a little nervous, but when the music started and he started to pose, the audience gave a raw of applause and being totally amazed
He was standing next to other Bodybuilders who were more advanced
But Ted saw a vision, and wanted to take a chance
As names were being called out, there was a certain anticipati8on in how Ted did
Yet Ted felt he wasn’t going to win and it was the end
Suddenly Ted’s name was called out in first place
After all that there was no time to waste
Ted proposed to Fitness Jennifer right there on stage
Fitness Jennifer was very surprised and she said yes without any hesitation
The multitudes of applause
Fitness Jennifer and Ted kissed with a cause
Immediately, muscle became two heart shapes
Muscle being true love and the flexing of two doves.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
Die for your applause;
Collect your cause.
Just keep your flaws,
Away from my claws.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
A pin drop silence
An unusual serene calmness
A solemn way to start a day
in an empty classroom
Even the softest moan...
the loudest roar
Sighed...
counting my own breathing
as I was fidgeting to and fro
in an empty classroom...
123 my heart was beating slow
456 my heart was moving faster
789 my heart was thunderous!
blood boiled up to the head...
from cheerful to moody
from pretty to ugly
smiles... yawns.. smirks... temper!
the veins fighting in the face...
dark red with anger burst!
A sudden... gentle knock on the door..
broke the golden silence
a sweet angel walked in
with head held down
"GOOD MORNING TEACHER"
Applause... Applause... Applause...
Thank you to the sweetest soul..
An empty classroom came to live...
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
Serendipities torrential deluge
Of dulcet applause reigning
In the divine dynasty of
Empiricisms arcane lore,
Heavens most high of heirachies
Beyond the veil
Drowning in altruistic
Reflexive salutations;
The regnant patent mutitioning
Of the waters Lethe from
Serpens poisened chalice of saints
Evoking the advent vigil of
Dusts chaldean dreams,
The sabbatical ordination
The fatal ravens annunciation
Heralding valediction
Convening betwixt and between
Gates of ivory and horn
Arraigning the apostolic conclave.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:35 AM UTC
Beware if you don't want to get checked
I am a knightmare
A pawn when you step
My bishops are a big scare
Bishops are unsaintly
Slaying enemies daily
They sacrifice themselves for a higher cause
I'm playing out this game even though I get no applause
You're a novice when you play
I'm Sun Tzu at his best
That means my strategy can withstand the test
can subdue your mind
and in time you'll find
My thinking's not black or white
It's ornery
Never tip my king
Even if you corner me
The rooke is my home,
defense from those who prey on me
My queen is always loyal
Til the end she stays with me
Til the end she lays with me
My mate til mate
Your hand's reaching for the clock
but it's far too late
And so to end this rhyme let me slow the pace
And drop a heavy message in this empty space
Chess club is coming soon
You can learn to play
Room 285
Monday through Thursday
9th period!
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC