"excels" poems
There's a yellow green gas,
You can't see in your glass.
Sometimes you can tell,
It's there by the smell.
It does a great job removing bacteria,
Like Diphtheria,
Or even Listeria.
But what do you think,
Happens to the chlorine in your drink?
I don't want to alarm,
But there's a chance it might harm.
It protects at a price,
Attacking our bacteria that are nice,
And I'm sure it excels,
At killing your own cells,
Forcing new ones to grow,
When a mistake could cause woe.
Some studies have found it an enhancer,
Of bladder and bowel cancer.
Whether old or young,
Do you want it in your lung?
You have the power,
To remove it from your shower.
It's rather grim,
To have to breathe it when you swim.
You're more likely to wheeze,
Or sneeze.
Do you think it will please,
Your inflammatory bowel disease?
Perhaps it's the key,
To why there's Crohns and UC.
Do you think that your skin,
Might become a little thin,
And be filled with dread,
As it starts to turn red.
Can you not feel,
How it's harder to heal?
It makes our tissues grow old,
From what I've been told.
Our cells can only divide,
A few times before they're stupified.
With asthma and chlorine on a map,
You can see they overlap.
Sadly in the West,
Not everyone has guessed,
That there may be a link,
With the gas in our drink.
“But!”, I hear you cry,
“Without it people will die.”
Let go of your dread,
We can use something instead.
The answer is well known,
It's called 'ozone'.
Made from pure water,
It's gone when it reaches my daughter,
Unlike chlorine it's life is brief,
What a relief.
There's many a city,
That make it with electricity,
Splitting water into hydrogen,
And best of all, oxygen!
For ozone is made from O2,
Yes, it's true!
Imagine if you had,
Water with nothing they add.
Already there's Paris and Nice in France,
Where people can dance.
San Diego and Los Angeles in the USA,
Have water that's ok.
And Osaka in Japan,
Now use this plan.
But you don't have to be rich,
To make the switch.
Ask a clever committee,
To stop chlorine in your city.
See if you can arrange,
To have your water change.
I hear you shout,
“Can 'I' get this chlorine out?”
If you leave water in a jug overnight,
What's left will be slight.
Boiling will send it away in the air,
So there's no need to despair.
You can also remove it with a filter,
Or a water distiller.
To learn more have a look,
At 'Question Chlorine' on facebook.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Hope is like a harebell trembling from its birth,
Love is like a rose the joy of all the earth;
Faith is like a lily lifted high and white,
Love is like a lovely rose the world's delight;
Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth,
But the rose with all its thorns excels them both.
8.2k
Frozen in the darkness silence peacefully shrouds me
hoping that I am breathless, praying he wont see,
this sublime sorrow I am gasping in the pain
swallowing bitter tears seconds from insane.
Defining the emotion each and every time
trying not to echo, balancing on the line,
silence is a killer but not my reason to die
hearing in this deafness will always make me cry.
The shadows over take me, speak the unspoken curse
just as well I am dying can't bear to smell this hearse.
Weighed down by lost tomorrows my memory finally broke,
why is it always my own hands gripped to make me choke?
His hug comforts my stomach blindly in his sleep
not knowing in this darkness my eyes can't help but weep,
obscurity plays around me tries to steal my breath
every time I close my eyes I know I’m close to death.
Panic underestimates the power the black withholds
carving me so gently, painless as it moulds
I sweat out my reaction cause words can't find a voice,
helplessly devoted to lay I have no choice.
Everything suffocates can't bear to close my eyes
repeated optimism as I see how everyone dies,
my mind is there to haunt me it never gives me peace
all the pills digested at will, still wont make it cease.
Night is a blur now confused by chemical reaction
convulsions rage as death excels performing its extraction,
in the mix I see his face traumatised by my choice, it's made
but time has gone his actions futile as sight begins to fade,
regret stabs flesh repentantly too late to change effect
I know he’ll cry forever at his failure to correct.
My selfish, vengeful actions will speak louder than my word
he never seen the suicide…do you think he finally heard?
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 7:07 AM UTC
Oak-leaf hydrangea blooms,
Have a sweetness that's profound.
When the wind takes the sweetness,
The bees come from all around.
They are perennial plants,
Growing well under the trees.
They have a scent that's fragrant,
With it noses they can seize .
They like it in a full sun,
And can bloom there well also.
The oak-leaf hydrangea,
In tree shade and sun both grow.
Oak-leaf hydrangea blooms,
Excels the man-made perfumes.
I
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
Lady from deepest dirt, deeper than the ocean, denser than Marianas Trench, speaks so proper, in a sweet subtle voice: “I do.”
Gentleman from highest sky, higher than the clouds, brighter than the morning star, speaks so assertive in a firm and quiet whisper: “I do.”
No hesitation in either of their voices, as always they give off the radiant atmospheric glow of love. In their lives, long lasting is his proposal, long lasting is her gaze.
The greatest of events is this wedding, greater than time itself.
He is a ‘gift from God’ to her, and he forever ‘excels’ to stay by with her.
He dreamt of her before, but never like this, she fantasized her wedding but never dreamt of him.
Can there be anything more right than the love of husband and wife?
Can there be anything more right than the pact they have formed?
Can there be any place more special than the familial bond?
If there is than by the magnitude of heaven, it should be destroyed.
Hope is so well-founded, faith is so assured, joy is so abundant, but love creates them all.
He never lost trust in her, she always felt rested in his arms.
Kisses always tenderly embraced, a long ogle at all times; every coming together.
He stands always ***** never bended to one knee, she understood as the love they share together was and is always never traditional.
They understand each other with little but a gaze, they care for so little else but their love.
No necessary dreams of the future anymore; fantasies are now their reality.
Dreams exist outside of the head: the nightmares will be fought together.
The dragon is far from slain, but together they ward it off as one.
One flesh, One soul, One mind, One heart, all fighting together.
The battle will be forever, but Love never fails.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:46 AM UTC
Who is Silvia? What is she?
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admirèd be.
Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness;
And, being help’d, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.
2.1k
I am nothing special.
Just a girl,
Just a girlfriend,
Just an advice giver.
But underneath it all,
I have a story.
Like everyone else.
I have a complex life, like everyone else.
And I also have a difficult love,
One for everything I hold dear.
And you may too.
And you may also share my story.
A small, thin, preppy girl
Who loves the color pink.
Excels in school.
And gives good advice.
But has always been compared to
Her younger
And weaker
And less intelligent
Brother.
A sexist father that
Never spoke to me.
And a mother who blamed me for everything
And still does.
And both of the people who raised me
Had problems with alcohol
And cigarettes.
And it didn't help at all that
I had mental and intuitive
Capabilities that were lost to me.
And a disease plaguing
My mind that generations past
Have passed to me.
Friends that have betrayed me,
Past loves that have ruined me,
A new love that has made me
feel more than I ever have
And a vision that darkens my skies.
It has ruined me.
Broken me.
Scarred me.
But I am who I am,
Just like you are who you are.
And we are nothing special.
Sorry to disappoint you.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
Black, beautiful intuitive and strong
The matriarch the stabilizer the earth's backbone
From the beginning she excels determined to survive In her womb the seed of trillions through the ages she will provide
Unfazed by obstacles perpetual is her drive
Kings, Queens all royalty alike
are inherently in her blood line
Against all odds she presses on not a
moment does her love wane
She looks down through the annals of
time and realize she must maintain
Her aura of invincibility her spirit of
strong will Her disposition of I will
succeed regardless of the mountainous
hills She is black, bold and beautiful
her strength personified from birth
She is the matriarch, she is our mother
the backbone of the earth
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
In your heart is a bouquet
Beautiful in many ways;
It is one always in bloom,
Your love gives it golden rays.
It's made of understanding,
Gentleness and TLC;
It is well known for kindness,
Your virtues give it beauty.
This bouquet has much power,
Light in hearts it does infuse;
It's a bouquet I treasure,
That I'll never want to lose.
This bouquet I sure treasure,
It means very much to me;
Its beauty excels sunshine,
Around it I like to be.
The bouquet found in your heart,
Is a bouquet highly prized.
Each day it gets lovelier,
This my heart has realized.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 6:46 AM UTC
With the intelligence &
stamina of the wolf,
My willpower & endurance
excels beyond most,
With the stealth &
craftiness of the fox,
I take much from my
opposition & vanish in
the night like a ghost..
With the massiveness &
memory of the elephant,
My mind runs deep & retains
emotions for the better of my clan,
With the camouflage &
ingenuity of the octopus,
I escape the pursuing demons
& continue with my life long plan..
With the patience &
strength of the crocodile,
I ambush & clamp down on
my oppressors treading unnoticed,
With the devastating roar &
isolation tactics of the tiger,
I accomplish amazingly by my
lonesome while dominating
my foes with unmatched focus..
With the power, speed, &
belligerence of the mantis shrimp,
I hold the fastest punch in the
world & my power equals that of
a rifle bullet which allows me to
take on all comers on earth,
With the majesty &
grace of the argali,
I climb the highest mountains
with the greatest of ease
staying clear of my enemies
& watching over the scenes
til the next generation is birthed..
True originality...
Shows through my personality..
This is my animality..
What animals do you compare to???
Whats your animality???
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 1:54 AM UTC
I'm sure the obscurities of the lenses clouding my vision
Are nothing more than a hologram of the world I never knew
But always thought existed in the window panes of my brain
The outside world my thoughts are too afraid to venture
For the warmth in the home of my realistic perception
Is the safe haven of who I am and what I know
And going outside my homestead into the dark forest of the things
That are undiscovered to my left but known all too well by my right
Are what excels my lenses to constantly change when the room is the same tint of light
Transitions from one thing to the next don't necessarily need to have a change one can see
I feel the forest calling me as if I'm some bewitched prophecy
But the foreboding dank blackness that thickens my view
Has always stopped me from entering into the unknown of my own self
These hazy retractions of light may cast dark shadows
However right now my mind is a whirlwind of calamities that can only be tranquilized
By venturing into the unknown darkness inside of me
This time these obscured lenses draped over my glass orbs
Create a tint similar to what is within the forest
My transitions are nonexistent but all the more in constant motion behind closed curtains
So my first steps out of my safe haven are slow
The door creaks like an old mans rusted weathered body
And I feel the pang of hysteria hit me as the outside air tests out my foreign skin
When I enter the blackened forest I begin running into what I have never known to my left but know so well in my right
The nightmare-conjuring mysteries of this realm are ready to be battled.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 8:58 AM UTC
Some kids at school don't like me. That much is obvious.
But the problem is, I don't like me.
But really, how could you like me? With my limp brown hair, and my grey-blue eyes, its pretty obvious I'm no beauty.
My parents don't know.
And then, there is my brain.
Sure I may be in the class that excels in education, but compared to everyone else in the class, I am as dumb someone who can't spell 'car'.
I hate being me. I hate myself.
My first kiss was at a party as a dare. I mean, come on.
I don't deserve to be School Captain.
She deserves it.
She is a better person than me
I must punish myself.
I skip my next class, run home.
Get these things: 1.8 metres of rope, a hammer, an empty glass bottle, a knife, a chair, salt, a pen, and some paper.
I go into the bathroom.
Write a note about how sorry I am to my friends and family.
I smash the bottle. I draw pictures on my arm with it. Using my blood as ink.
I look in the mirror. I see a crazy girl staring back at me. "I hate you! You are worthless!" I scream.
I grab the hammer, smash the mirror.
Use the broken pieces to draw patterns into my leg. Rub salt into the wounds.
I am feeling weak. I am hurting. I am feeling dizzy.
Nearly there. Nearly done.
I grab the knife, slit my wrists.
It hurts. I scream in agony. Blood is streaming out.
I sit on the chair, sobbing into my hands.
I sit up, and try to make a hangman noose.
I can't. I'm too weak. Instead, I rub the rope against my neck until it is red raw.
Finally, when it is all done, I sit on the floor and think, just think.
My parents will find me. I will be featured in the news. I can see it now:
'Human Ragdoll - Girl kills herself in family bathroom, but not before torturing herself.'
Next it will say: 'Parents of the girl say, "We had no idea. We thought she was fine." what is the world coming to?'
Of course you didn't know. Not that you ever took the time to care, I think.
I can hear my parents walking through the door.
I whisper "Goodbye." and I can feel myself fading away. Today was fun.
My father walks through the bathroom door. He holds me and whispers "Stay with me baby, I love you."
I get time for an "I love you too." before I am pulled into darkness.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 11:46 PM UTC
*Like a pin on a spike
the dim light creaks dull bright
and fungus glums in the 'tween
as it might... and a yearling takes a day
to bring about the long, wrong night
as amber drools
from the lungs
of a stunted
kite,
the
wind is an idiot
pruning the sun
from a
suspect
sky.
how we talk in the interim
is nuts, but the lust
excels.
it grooms the pollution, and yes
it threatens the fresh blood
of our last regrets.
but... yes
fathom the windmills
of our mangoes
as a fruit -
Less.
some other joy that -
has a boy gone
more less
than
kept.
and
crease the wrinkle
in your starlight
to moon
if not to
breath*
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC
Hidden in the grey morass out there amidst your workforce
Are Pearls in a lattice work of intricate disguise.
Gems of enlightenment and soldiers of conscience
Who battle with adversities’ regressive, shut eyes.
Clad in the rigging of everyday costume
Hidden to all but the discerning few,
Seeing the gold of the extra steps taken,
And observing initiatives made there for you.
Gold in the form of an everyday worker
One who excels far above average way,
Unrewarded and unacknowledged
Responsibly shouldering this all in his day.
Towering over the mass mediocrity
Holding the strands of a mess of loose ends,
Always dependable, doggedly purposeful
Easily marked as definitive friend.
Driven by his own hard volition
In striving for that extra won mile,
True champion of mans’ Endeavour
Unheralded in his own low profile.
The movers and the shakers all
Fly their flags of self acclaim
But the Pearls of the Unobvious
Shall be this nations’ future fame.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
24 November 2010
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 2:44 PM UTC
Love is just a gamble and the novice has to lose
One sells his heart to beloved and soul to muse
For some it is a suture for other it is like bruise
Lovers are condemned along with their views
Knowing fully I will lose still I aspire to play
She is my dawn who has carried away my day
Beloved excels in heart and a lover has to stray
Under all circumstances price of love is to pay
But If you just take my hand in to your hand
Then we will have same frequency and band
I lost my love in heaven and loser on ground
So what do you think what may be loser's stand
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
A Volunteer
A volunteer does believe in the patriotic spirit but serves
Carrying gun powder in his body excels to be so great
Wants to surmount all hurdles and hardships on nerves
Under adverse conditions is ready to portray, ameliorate
A volunteer with all his sincerity wants to climb Siachin
Without taking but his health and condition in to account
To remain away from his duty he considers crime, a sin
His real duty is not to stop in the way but just to surmount
Duty is hallmark of excellence this is what he learnt, knows
God is with him in his wonderful and valiant struggle, pursuit
On every step he seeks help from God and submits, bows
Allah looks after him bears his courageous efforts with fruit
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
there are those days
so sunny and so bright
that you begin to think this is the time
for some achievement that excels
of which the people tell for many years
admiring stories of heroic deeds
the morning passes then the afternoon
the sun sets casually as usual
the moon is hiding behind clouds
like dying ember
and when night falls in earnest
shrouds the world in darkness
you recognize it is the day
not you
that people might remember
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
i think about all the lessons i have been taught. i take them to heart.
i think about how even when you want to urge "drop dead", the moment they tell you they would cut their throat if you didn't love them, the words burn up in your mouth. i love you will not roll off the tongue as easily. when i find myself throwing away everyone who excels in ways you never could.
when someone invites me to walk besides them without words, when a stranger is just inches in front of my footsteps. crossing the street, passing them, being anywhere other than behind. how i can never walk besides someone in case they pretend like you did.
when friendship was about grabbing a fist to pull your muddied self off the ground, when the hand that feeds you is the same to slap you. how you say you're sorry and when i say it doesn't matter, it means more than one thing.
what happens to me when i don't speak my mind. what happens to me when i do.
putting a name to the workings of my heart
a funnily familiar word. it comes to me, where i've heard it before, that time i heard you spit it out when i was walking home.
somehow it still doesn't come as easily as it did for you
looking at the mirror
wondering who in their right mind would, if your sick self hadn't wanted to.
and what a pity for you that you coaxed me out of my shell but not quite these intimates.
i wonder how i was too young to know better, and too old not to by anyone else's standards
i don't patch myself up as much as i do try and build over, hibernate for winter in a coffin i picked out myself.
do you think that if i had my hands in your chest like yours had mine, i'd finally be enough to make your stomach turn?
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 6:25 PM UTC
Why employ an ordinary word
When an extraordinary one
Excels?
Let us wed, let us vow,
Henceforth, let us never
Wish ourselves away plain humbly,
Goodbye.
Let us end our day,
Bid our lovely comings,
The tragedy of our departures
With a gentling
Fare thee well.
In the company of the dawn,
Let us greet the one
Who lies besides us a stirring,
Not with merest hello, morning or
The accursed howareyou,
Replace haste with a deliberate
*Welcome, well comely,
To this newborn day!*
Tho do confess,
That like numerous others
Who have counted the ways,
There is no sweetener substitute for
I love you.
I will n'ere address thy grace
With appellation dissatisfying of "girl"
When woman suits thee best,
With all its attendant glories.
Should we encounter upon the street,
Address me as man,
For of that word I am a fan,
But say it not with routine irrelevance,
But in tones of softest reverence,
For I am not a child or dude,
A sir or sire, a mister mister,
But I am a man.
Our lives are not a game of chance,
Yet chance aplenty do we countenance.
Having stumbled, fallen into a subterranean,
A place where I know thee well
But likely not your face, your visage,
Thy honest name,
Accept these excelsiors as mine
Poeming opening gambit,
My closing statement,
Summary of the that, that has and yet to pass
Between us:
Peace be upon you.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
Why should I entomb my hatchet
after so much toil in the honing?
After all its blade excels alls measures
for heft and keenness
and no finer tool can be had
to strike the ultimate blow -
except perhaps the one you're holding.
So here we stand my friend
ensnared by pride's inertia
with everything to lose
but one or another's demise
within our imminent grasp.
Then without a sign or preamble,
our eyes meet as if by chance
and in that unsought instant,
the shame of forgiveness
saps our strength and sinew.
Our weapons clang to the pavement.
Unless we're history's fools
we know it seldom ends this way.
How much must we sacrifice
before the worst we have been
can give up its sorry shade
to the best our souls demand?
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 8:17 AM UTC
My love knows no Louis Vuitton or Cartier
she doesn't belong to the city
she lives in a farm with her parents and siblings
in the faraway country.
My love thinks not of manicures
her hands are busy in the soil
the flowers and plants relish their tender touch
from dawn to dusk she does toil
My love didn't go to uni
but she knows Keats, Byron and Shelley
even French, German and Russian poetry
lots of Sartre and Camus--she takes delight in philosophy.
My love is no Maria Callas nor Joan Sutherland
but beautifully she sings Schubert's lieder
opera and folk songs she takes delight in
like none other
My love never had music lessons
how she excels on the piano
she plays Mozart, Beethoven and Bach by ear
at the music-hall the villagers love her as she plays solo
I am the son of old John Mac Gregor
her next-door neighbour
I went to school never
too shy to date her
Dad and mum said
learn to write poetry
send her a sweet love poem
if she likes it, she will marry you---happily!
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Let us assume,
that in this life
we obtain about
ten thousand different words,
employable and reusable
the exact number matters not
this accumulated list is your
Outer Structure
the how and the why we write,
the compulsion and the illusion
is DNA at the cellular level modified
by every second of our lives,
every word tabulated and stored
this is not an essay,
this is a poem
This is a 2:42 in the mid of night poem
when the the basics rule,
when the questions get asked,
and the answers (for me)
either
don't come or are
not oft to your liking,
but good for you,
good for us,
that the asking of the questions
is our poetry
so let us confess,
so let us address,
the primary screen,
the essential filter
the place where all poems begin
is the me
most of me is given,
but you add words,
you pick and choose the vocabulary,
that refines your me
sometimes your me excels,
you use your me words
so so well,
but sometimes not
this structure
is where we all begin
but should not ded end
move beyond,
translate your me
into us
find the way to comprehend
that you must pass over the line
of me and
excel anew
write a near and new me,
take your own vocabulary,
your own DNA a given
super duper impose your word~life structure
on me in ways that
gasp me into a new seeing
give me your genes, your word cells,
teeming with new connections,
then happily
will I take
your poems,
delete the Y,
make it
our poems,
add it to my cellular vocabulary,
by doing so,
establish a physical genetic connection
truly then our ink is our blood,
and we are poet brothers and poet sisters,
cousins of the words
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
I've shouldered heartache, shouldered pain
And I have taken all the blame
For through my weakness of volition,
I've relinquished all ambition
To be more than just a vacant gazer,
Like one who claims their soul is braver,
Yet capitulates before the saber.
And man excels in lies and treason,
Extinguishes the age of reason
For if all men are free to think,
Then surely the Leviathan must sink
And with it take down all degrees of
malfeasance is stormy seas,
And from the ashes birth and rise,
a phoenix silhouettes the skies
Who pirouettes and sparks with glee,
Arching towards the bourgeoise
And whenceforth now but down below
This sinking pit you surely know
Cannot be held, cannot be kept
Our Natures toil their final breath
And with the fall of all from grace,
The wolves oh long ago they raced
For all there is a time to rise
Our ignorance lay in our eyes
Through history I again recite,
That dawn doth fade before the night
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 7:26 PM UTC
Fast fiery flicks fly forward
Immediately intense infielders implode
Everyone enthusiastically emerges
Lively leaders let loose
Determined defenders deny dangerous drives
Hustle, hard hacking hits
Outstanding offense overpowers opponent’s obstacles
Clever corners control circle
Kibosh! Knocking knuckles
Explosive energy excels
Yippy!
- MMM
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
There was once
This dream I had
Of a land so far away
Cotton trees
And licorice grass
This place was made to play
Roads were made
Of chocolate bars
Safe from the lemon head sun
Not until
The peach ringed trees
Did I feel some honest fun
I climbed
And I climbed
And I still climbed some more
I looked
Over the branches
There was much to explore!
This strange dream
Has got me now
This is better than I know
Oh my my!
Think what it's like
When this place begins to snow!
Sprinkle flakes
Of candy snow
Which I catch upon my tongue
Imagine
Summertime
Sweet candy rays of sun
Think of
Candy corn
Grown up from this dream itself
Snow caps
And Fanta seas
From real life this dream excels
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC