Best Cavorted Poems
>>>
cavorted about as elfin brides
under a saffron maple tree^^^^
Dressed in prism-hued layers
of chiffon in ethereal shimmers
and delicate silken gossamers
They having their group wedding in the fall
And fairy folk bustled about all round
as flimsy and flighty as they could be
while henna leaves fell upon the brides,
>>>>> in ceremonial nuptial
An autumn's breezy ritual>>>Branches denuded
Yet autumn's august>>>
in honey fallen maple leaves as well
>>>>Playing hide'n' seek
with browny brownie grooms
also camouflaged in the heap...>>>
( beautiful quote 7)
Categories:
cavorted, autumn, fairy, wedding,
Form:
Blank verse
On Pebble Beach's seventh green
I paused to watch an otter.
He dove, cavorted, spun around,
An acrobat on water.
Then lolling, drifting, eyeing me
He twitched brown nose and whiskers.
His thought, that moment, mirrored mine:
"He plays all day, that rascal."
Categories:
cavorted, golf, humor, nature,
Form:
Light Verse
They danced and they turned and they tumbled
In wind, how it sighed and it grumbled
With force, how it howled in its fury
But still they bore no trace of worry
In cool autumn winds they cavorted
My foot! How they laughed and they sported
They flew through the air just like pheasants
Till set in my excellent presence
“Red Leaf,” quoth I unto the leader
“To fly, there is nothing more neater
But weren’t you the least bit affrighted
As thus from the breeze you alighted?”
“Dear sir,” quoth the leaf as he flitted
“To fear, for a leaf ain’t permitted
We’re taught from a bud in the cradle
That even a crash isn’t fatal.”
“I say,” quoth I unto the yellow
“You seem to be such a neat fellow
I wonder how likes you this sporting
Or if you a damsel are courting?”
Quoth he, “All this sporting is splendid
The days of my courting are ended
My lover has flown to the northward
While I am constrained to fly southward.”
Before one more word could be spoken
The peace of that moment was broken
Away flew those leaves o’er the treeses
Borne by the chill autumn breezes
October 25, 2012.
For the contest, Up in the Autumn Air. Second place.
Categories:
cavorted, autumn, funny, nature, seasons,
Form:
Personification
Gay Policeman
He was beautiful, the gay policeman. Wearing his silver swimming trunks. Baby oil glistened on his body. As he strutted his stuff in the gay club, it was heaven.
Everybody loved him. Even the straight people. Cat calls and cheers erupted as he cavorted on the stage. A random man, picked from the audience, added to the show.
They cavorted together. Bumping, grinding, holding hands, kissing. It was real, not an act. The acts came later, drag queens! The gay policeman would cum with many this night.
He was off duty, moonlighting to earn extra cash. His colleagues didn't know he was gay. It was his secret. Being a motorcycle cop was cool. Like an extra in a Clint Eastwood film.
Our gay cop looked good in uniform or out. He was a natural, the finest male there was. Was this why people asked him for his autograph? Coz they thought he was famous?
Or was it his beauty? Yes, a man can be beautiful. The reason was everyone wanted to be the gay policeman. He was just so natural, so relaxed, so real.
Maybe his next stage act should be arresting someone? He'd have so many takers. Just like in his day job, stopping naughty criminals and keeping the innocent safe.
Categories:
cavorted, beauty, culture, dance, fun,
Form:
Verse
Mother Nature met Old Father Time, and what a good time they had
They cavorted for quite along while, she a girl, him a bit of a lad.
Then one day when Father Time, a wrinkle set in mother natures plan
All those things she gave birth too, he decided he's not a fan.
The renewal of all things good, Mother Nature sent our way
Father time lets them flourish, and then sends them on their way.
Mother Nature keeps giving birth, a wondrous mother she proves to be
But Old Father Time throws his tantrums, he tries to be the boss of she.
So the mother and father that we all know are still battling day by day
But let’s let them get on with it, and try not to get in either ones way.
© ~GG~ 07’03’2013
Categories:
cavorted, nature, mother, father, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Sun-faded cardboard photographs
of 1970’s hairstyles
were tacked to
the brown paneled walls.
His counter was cluttered with
the shiny tools of his trade,
a chipped glass bowl
laden with lollypops,
and a jar of combs
in blue liquid.
National Geographic,
Sports Illustrated,
and Life
were spread out
like Chinese fans
on the coffee table.
On the shelf,
above the coat hooks with
forgotten umbrellas
and orphaned scarves,
and smelling faintly of cigarettes
and of mystery,
lay a stack of glossy Playboys.
I was tall enough,
but not brave enough,
and that brass ring
was never grabbed.
I sat in Gino’s cold
metal and pleather chair
and thought about
warm flesh and silky hair.
I pictured a model
on a bearskin rug
in front of a crackling fire,
clutching a champagne flute,
or a long-stemmed rose,
or another pointless prop.
Images cavorted as
Gino’s quick hands
floated around
my teenaged head
and his silver
and snipping scissors
danced the Barber’s Waltz.
Comb, snip, snip
comb, snip, snip.
Puckered red lips
blew kisses and
high heels clicked
through my head
between clouds of talcum
and splashes of hair tonic.
Categories:
cavorted, anxiety, childhood, hair, life,
Form:
Free verse
(alternately known as the Doubting Thomas Crown
Taj Mahal Cupid Affair)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fortunate (for me) thee bona fide "FAKE" Cupid
(aka Decoy Donald Duck
and side kickstarter Jay Rad,
colluded donning one alias,
which (former and latter)
amounted tube bing disguised incognito
as the cingular "Ivan Ha Bea Robber Baron),"
while same above placed
their System Of A Down on high alert
whereby, they unwittingly, fortunately,
and accidentally discerned disquieting "noise"
i.e. static electronic crackling
purportedly from nemesis, asper sans above
whereby broadcasters colluded
confusingly, congruously, and convincingly
as thee infamous digital (duplicity)
faux "Big Mac" Trump.
The chalkboard scratching, hair sprayed bouffant,
and knuckle crackling
appeared tubby the handiwork cleverly disguised
(as tinpot dictator antics of Moscow's version,
sans Putin on the ritz),
which decrypted garble (a fluke) as iterated above
strongly emanating via polygamous,
prestigious, and pseudonymous
pull no punches ploy
innocently convincing feigned
duo code named "Ashley Madison and Bert"
disclosing (when uncovered),
a heartless conspiracy in concert
with Sesame Street studded lesser known Muppets
pretending tubby oil tycoon Bedouins
intent to fleece "sensitive"
top secret military defense contracts,
which Russian motley crue ace double agents
intended this act of espionage thence sabotage
feted as a Black Sabbath Lupercalia feint
not for the faint hearted clubby fete
where Cupid given free rule of the roost
allowing, enabling and proffering
Cyrillic chattering Cherubim
hook cooked United States "figurative goose"
lock, stock and barrel, which stratagem
captured president unawares
and did significantly boost
Eastern Bloc reconnaissance (on par
with the Philadelphia Eagles
winning 2018 Super Bowl LII
which surprise clenching championship
wrought frenzied hoopla, gala, and bacchanalia
where barenaked ladies
cavorted nsync with beastie boys,
whence City of Brotherly love hoopla found
nearly every man, woman and child soused
(analogous to each person garnering
an early Sainted Patrick's pot of gold.
Categories:
cavorted, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Metrical Tale
Memories linger melancholy
as I approach the bridge
to the Gardens de Sol.
A picture forms in my weary mind;
Just a mere shadowed mirage,
like an old faded photograph
in a heart shaped locket
kept near my soul centre
for days, weeks and decades….
while
fall winds crooning blue zephyrs
frigid, incantations upon the
once verdant meadows
where the fawns grazed
and wild horses pranced
so breezy carefree
on fine spring days....
I whirled and twirled , a carefree dance
on patches of clover and dandelions
in the spring of my youth
Reveling joie de vivre of sun
Sol warming skin and soul pink
I remember our long, meandering walks
in a picture perfect rose garden
scented with redolent pines
and aromatic wild flowers
we conversed for hours,
my hand in yours
thrilling at your every word
infatuated by a fervent touch
You, idly picking petals off a rose;
the deep timbre of your delicious laugh
resounding joy to my acquiescent ears
as I cavorted playfully in the garden’s fountain
until lengthening shadows quilted the path
with reluctant to leave, sun beams
of a late summer afternoon
And afterwards, in twilight violet sky;
intimate moments by a blazing fire,
silent music of our hearts thrumming
a lovers sonata while
you kissed me;
gold specked brown orbs,
so pleasurable and beguiling,
warming my soul
full of tomorrows promise
and forgotten yesterdays
Now, as I picture this quixotic drama
rehearsed again and again
one solitary tear slowly trails down
and comes to rest on lines
that were not there yesterday…..
Dead cornflake leaves
crunch under my feet
as I walk the very same
bridged pathway to the garden
alone
my only audience
a solitary prickly cactus
in the autumn of my years.......
Categories:
cavorted, depression, introspection, life, lost
Form:
Free verse
The Jester
The castle page sent for him
And the jester could quickly conclude
That despite a life of grandeur
The king was in a sad mood
His entrance was swift and grand
Sweeping gestures as he advanced
A job all his own, to uplift the throne
As he cavorted about and danced
All the while he couldn’t help but wonder
Why the King always had a sad face
How can it be? If that could be me!
What I’d give to sit in his place!
The king appeared quite amused
Gone was his dark gloomy shroud
As the sure footed merry jester
Delighted both he and the crowd
The Jester proved quite the performer
A minstrel and fine acrobat
He regaled the king with tributes
While wearing his three pointed hat
But secretly the King was longing
Condemned by each royal ancestor
He’d gladly step down and forgo his crown
In exchange for the life of the Jester!
Categories:
cavorted, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
But is it true?
Does flesh impart
the spirit heart with mystery
to synchronize its beating—
fare its child with golden history
beyond its bloody birth,
its soft resigning death
to spur romance alone?
There is a touch of sainthood
in the firelight raconteur who
sketches in the apparition of a god
to dress his reach into the past...
from where did that emerge?
In truth, inside of us.
In truth, each journey to the mountaintop
will pass the lions in the heart,
medusas on the sands to lure us
to the lands of strange delight
where men and beast unite,
where totems tower
beyond our failing sight.
And with it all, the fantasy of song—
the legend sung to men
far long upon the trail
who caught a glimpse
of that old highway through the mist
from earth to fair Olympus
where the demigods cavorted
one last time, and left their imprints
in the golden dust.
With humankind there just is not enough
to raise the breath of life beyond,
yet with the fabled must
of prowling lions, teacher and disciple
feed their mind and soul
not from the carrion of Eden
but the cradle of the Ark.
~
Categories:
cavorted, dedication, myth,
Form:
Free verse
Afraid to be unsupported.
With not posting, she cavorted.
Till a spirit did appear,
Saying, cease all fear.
With that, she penned undaunted!
3/21/2023
Write a limerick to celebrate this day, do!
Categories:
cavorted, celebration,
Form:
Limerick
Dust Danced
Dust danced above the unset table
mocking the sun’s attempt at warmth
randomly cavorted through the vacancy
of forever, and never, in collision.
3/19/2017
Categories:
cavorted, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
ah, tis in regard to praise worthy of zee
sylph van halen wondrous sigh door house
where boot LIX phallic ruled thee,
this missive (fertilized ova byproduct),
sans newly wedded whoopie
between n betwixt carnal existence
involving stiff joint courtesy of randy
(loch ness hike hood only imagine)
engendered pleasurable scree
ming, when enfilade eruption occurred
sans papa's engorged tree
into verdant valley shaped like miniature "v"
when bare naked lady n beastie boy - with re:
tractable shaped magic flute
mountebank upon late
(then young) mum when she
acquiesced bing dominated
during nude version with glee
club (prickly ***** per papa)
unplanned romp or x game of thrones
whereby rampant animal urge beckoned to free
flagellates searching mini verdant zyder zee
which warm fuzzy i.e. cop u lay shun
nine months later with meself as baby
baked to imp perfection second to none
this futre puff daddy slated
tubby conceived via sex pistol gun
in tandem with mull ate mum,
who cavorted in naked fun
begat word whiz as second brood ding bun
in the oven o me late mum...
gone against desire tool heave anon!
Categories:
cavorted, 12th grade, 6th grade,
Form:
Silence was frozen in the morning cold:
no movement seen, except for untold
clouds of ice crystals drifting in the air.
Of their glittering cascades, I was aware,
as I was of patterns upon my window panes.
A frozen display of drizzled, moisture veins.
Formed overnight, they sparked imagination,
and for a moment, I was lost in admiration,
for the artistry Nature had blessed my morn,
on Fall’s last day. The day, Winter was born!
Through opaque panes, naught could be seen,
but I knew I’d find a pristine snow scene,
once I dressed warmly, and stepped outside.
A scene that mirrored the white dressed bride,
who in her innocence, like the virgin snow
excites the watcher to understand and know
the joys and pleasures of life will unfold,
as the warmth of passion, dispels the cold.
With the last day of Fall came memories
of warm summer days, and zephyr breeze:
of flowers in colourful extravagance,
and grasses waving in summer dance.
Today? A white, blanket covers all,
from valley floor to mountains tall,
as Nature embarks upon hibernation.
However there were cries of jubilation,
as children cavorted in the fresh snow!
With Winter now arrived, we know
it’s Christmas soon - a time to celebrate.
The last day of Fall, is an auspicious date!
Rhymer. December 22nd. 2017.
Categories:
cavorted, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
So fondly I remember,
We would gather ‘round and sing
Mom on the piano, as Christmas
Melodies would ring.
Music always brought us joy,
Come and join us, by all means!
Come fill the house with melodies,
Saxes, trumpets, violins!
We would try to sing our parts,
Smiling all the while together
Building gilded memories
As we cavorted altogether.
Now we live in different places
And our pianist has gone home,
But we will gather ‘round in heaven
And sing again near heaven’s throne.
There, angelic chorus
And all of heaven’s host-
Will raise our mightiest praise
To the God we love the most.
How I thank Him for my family
Whom I’ll see, I don’t know when,
But I look forward to the day
When we’re gathered ‘round again.
Categories:
cavorted, bereavement, christmas, devotion, family,
Form:
Rhyme