Best Frisk Poems
Oh, the stress-free, carefree world of children
O' take me back to the lil kids' playpen
When we tried on mom's cosmetics and lipsticks
and built playhouses with plastic blocks and bricks
And had fun with cooking set picnics
Anything could be a toy
and our racket could annoy
We turned everything into play things
We played pretend queens and kings
We then played 'mom and dad'
Oh the squealing fun we had!
Teasing, chasing hens and kittens
climbing the grumpy neighbour's fence.
There was paper airplanes
and frisking in the rains
Paper boats too were made
and hide'n'seek was played
And when that wasn't enough
we played blind man's bluff.
We nimbly climbed the trees
hair flailing in the breeze
But our child's play naturally mimicked the grownups
Lil plastic ones instead of real porcelain cups.
Life was all play and games
in our growing mental frames.
Sand castles and kites
childish fights and frights!
And kind parents just let them frisk and play
for all work and no play makes one a dull boy
Categories:
frisk, childhood, children,
Form:
Couplet
Attune yourself to see the miracle of music.
Merging with the dance is truly ecstatic.
Hey! Swing, sway and frisk, every way it’s fantastic!
Stir your senses, I wanna hear your riotous roar.
Unbound and bounce, in you I see Terpsichore
Just dance, just dance! Forget every frightening chore!
I call it meditation, the best way of catharsis.
Whirl, twist, sway and spin under wonderful hypnosis.
Dance! Just dance, it needs no basics!
Hey! Go with the beat. Dance to the tune of your heartbeat.
Don’t stop, keep stomping your feet.
Groove, groove, groove!
Don’t stop, don’t stop that move!
Yes! You are a blend of perfection.
I know dancing is an addiction,
Unbound soul’s reflection.
Groove, groove, groove!
Don’t stop, don’t stop that move!
To hell with the stares!
Come on come on who cares!
Dance to the music of spheres!!
17/03/2019
Categories:
frisk, addiction, dance, dedication, devotion,
Form:
Lyric
Howard Marks and God Almighty
Shared a spliff, and had a whitey
Then had the munchies, and a bong
Annoying Peter with the pong
By which time it was far too late
To frisk young Howard at the gate
God, seeing Peter’s consternation
Outlined the process of creation
How on day three he made the weed
With every other tree and seed
To raise in some, apotheosis
And test some others, with psychosis
Now, Howard’s stash was pretty small
And didn’t last too long at all
So, as he didn’t see the point
Of heaven’s joys without a joint
He got his bong, and skins, and tin
Chucked all the roaches in the bin
And, following a wicked smell
Went wafting off to score, in hell
St. Peter looked above and groaned
As all the angels flew past stoned
by Gail
Categories:
frisk, addiction, creation, god, heaven,
Form:
Couplet
People pass on foot or bike
Or skateboard, wheelchair, scooter,
While chatting, singing, texting
Via iPhone or computer.
While in the sky the birds take wing –
The pigeons, seagulls, sparrows,
A few in pairs as if they’d felt
The sting of Cupid’s arrows.
Beneath the river, I presume
Are lots of local fishes,
Which swim and rarely do fulfill
The anglers’ fervent wishes.
Between the bushes and the trees
The squirrels frisk and scurry
And sometimes mice or rats join in,
But always in a hurry.
A sunny day out in the park
With life around me teeming;
If not for masks on every face,
I’d think I might be dreaming.
Categories:
frisk, today,
Form:
Rhyme
The wave, a distant statement
“trust me, I come in peace”
The handshake, firm and strong
held just a bit too long
the hug, a gentle frisk
to minimize the risk
to those who must decide
to double down or let it ride
John G. Lawless
©11/14/2021
Categories:
frisk, peace, political, war,
Form:
Couplet
Written: October 12, 2023
Cinquain Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Ink Empress
______________________________________________________
Guile gust
I grasp your gasp
goad grafts gently glowing
the gray grove greenery growing
glean grace
Skies Straight
I snared your sight
Schizoid swing of Steward
sewn souls spewing as oxblood stems
stark stance
Wince, wight
I've weaned your whiff
the world-wedged wink was wrapped
while not washing down the wild waft
when whet
Froth flow
your frisk frame flits
follow fall foliage
freshly framed flimsy fruity field
faint flame.
Sand stake
of smog steam sieve
you stride in silence steps
by slamming a skulker-shaped slope
spread string.
Categories:
frisk, analogy, appreciation, character,
Form:
Cinquain
A few yellow leaves, diminutive bless.
The subtle birth of Fall— my eyes impress.
Verdant green—deep visual for my dreams.
The season’s frisk—Jack Frost snips at the seams.
Soon the froth of frisky leaves, everywhere.
The flamboyant tango, showering flair.
And oh…the burning Autumnal passion—
the sizes and shapes, bittersweet fashion.
I forget my bathing suit, bundle up,
vigorously jump into loving cup
of apple cider, pumpkin pie and leaves.
Season’s change, cheeky-warm, with knitted sleeves.
10/6/2021
Categories:
frisk, autumn,
Form:
Couplet
My spiritual umber a-rose
Full in bloom, as in an erupt!
There was the a sweet scent of flora
Too… the frisk, of spring feeling fauna”
I viewed through that verdant screen
From my bough brushed tranquil dene
As all on the Easter time
golden daffodils silent bell ringing did,
in innocent pantomime."
© Joe Maverick 3/3/2013
Categories:
frisk, beauty, easter, daffodils,
Form:
Rhyme
I scoot as I scatter
and toss all around,
I break and I batter
so miscues abound,
I dim and I damper
demeanors so sweet,
I hurt and I hamper
those fast on their feet,
I frisk and I frazzle
each honest days' work,
I blunt and bedazzle
the judge and the clerk,
I grin as I garrot
as your failure unfolds,
I crack like a parrot
as frustration explodes.
So, have you figured me out-
the end sting of my tale?
Not bedevil, but D E V I L !
and I'm in the details!
( Ah, yes, it's me! Ha Ha Hee Hee!)
( I love to turn you red..like ME!)
Categories:
frisk, allegory, fantasy, parody
Form:
Rhyme
~~~ Songs My Soul Cried Ended the Psalms of Songs ~~~
Grace was inside my soul, I’d love his grace
Please my grace travel the world, find peace please
Face of darkness of the deep grace did face
Knees freeze and their prayers had no bowed knees
Risks ensnared the soul waiting for life’s risks
Perils times, beliefs lost liar’s perils
Frisk my soul falsehood frolic death did frisk
Morals abandon humanity; dung looted morals
Known and unknown lost all grace they had known
Peace was feared in the world, they hated peace
Alone with lost faith, their soul all alone
Ceased beliefs, lost their twin towers grace ceased
Kiss of hell walked the Earth, souls did kiss
Love healed hearts on the Sabbath that was love
Bliss with no respect, cold souls mingled bliss
Above, joy of life gone; hell now above
Songs my soul cried, ended the psalms of songs
Wrongs unforgiven, no life was dead wrongs.
© 2015 DiLinda Adams, All Rights Reserved
Fourth Shadow Sonnet – As you can see this does not meet the challenge guidelines in this pen. I added an extra stanza to keep the meaning I wanted to achieve. Please join in if you like; it has to rhyme, 10 syllable count and 14 lines to meet the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do. I cannot wait to see what you all are going to write about.
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Categories:
frisk, black african american, community,
Form:
Sonnet
Stages and steps are the structures of Life’s nomenclature
a little mind isn’t ready to go through its rotating disk,
quick and fast void of much strain, no matter the way
but such an inpatient method carries the most risk.
Building upon contentment to slowly reach prosperity,
such energy is diverted for unholy accumulation in a brisk.
No item is beyond such eyes in need of sedation
the Lord of Moscow fighting to also be the mayor of Bisk.
Possessions beyond reach stimulate more awareness and sensitivity,
unconsciously and rapidly, mindfulness undergoes a frisk.
The unnecessary search for more, never nearly gets exhausting
but disappointment nods, tagging such a person with asterisk.
Enormous wants so large, yet squeezed by the mind and limbs
lands one in a tornado, subsequently throwing everything in a whisk.
Categories:
frisk, character, horror, humanity, ,
Form:
Chant Royal
A Poet Drives a Truck
Transmit and reflect light with a steady glow.
Inspect the equipment routinely and thoroughly.
Explore alternate routes when feasible.
Let the eyes range over the land, the sky,
the near, the distant road, and the mysterious
peripheries.
Transcend rage and panic with humor and consideration.
Tell the truth especially when a brilliant lie
seems more appropriate.
Look flowers in the eyes.
Frisk about like a dog unbound.
Sniff the night perfume of trees.
Listen to the songs of birds.
Let them take wing in the breath and soar forth
to the moon.
Editors’ Note. This poem, from which this volume takes its name, was published circa 1999 in a newsletter published by Lowell’s employer at the time, titled “Still Manifesting.”
Categories:
frisk, truth,
Form:
Lie low when convenience calls
Stick out your neck at optimum moments
To climb and scale high social walls
As you swerve away from avoidable torments
To shunt aside a servile lifestyle
Predicated on premises so thin
You risk to frisk and whisk green bile
If you hobnob with characters so mean
They drive you into a ditch
Where awash with confusion and indecision
You struggle to make a switch in the stitch
That misses the fabric from which a fusion
Mixes and waxes fact and fiction to forget
Why for a while you chose to lie low
How you determined it wasn’t worth pursuing the target
You once thought you knew lay in row
Number one at the behest of fairness
Until you perceived much water under the bridge
Had gone by to cede room to meekness
Grown more significant outside the fridge
Where belief in necromancy
Blew a hole in the knowledge base
That inadvertently fed sycophancy
Deemed significant in the case
You strove to consider for possible inclusion in the novel
You contemplated writing
But gave up when it became clear your sleep in a Kafue National Park rondavel
Lit up and rekindled your fighting
Spirit to reject out of hand
The notion that social associations grow cold
When you openly take a stand
Against attitudes that strike the prude as too bold
To contemplate
Too weak to make a lasting impression
Too forward to merit a serving of caviar on a silver plate
And too silly to warrant a mention in a poetry recital session.
Categories:
frisk, poems,
Form:
Free verse
Byron's Sonnet
-good morning, polar night
Eventually I would be the one to break your heart,
So I scream and shout without knowing what I was doing,
And I wander the chilly night without knowing what I was losing.
Tears that have blinded me for so long tore us apart.
Without knowing where I was going or where to start,
I hold my hands close and feel the cold bite at me,
Wondering just when this pain will set me free.
But as I look to the cold stars, this is where I depart.
The cold snow falling, the wolves are howling,
As I run through the night freely, my thoughts are in flight.
The wind is blowing, there is no reason for doubting,
With eyes wide open, to smile truthfully is my only plight.
Here in this beautiful place, there is no pouting,
So let’s retell this story, good morning, polar night.
Hi, this is Frisk. I decided to try a brief summary of my poems. I was feeling rather confined when I had written this, and my only wish was to run out into the woods and loose myself in the pure white snow, listening to the silence
Categories:
frisk, adventure, confidence, good morning,
Form:
Sonnet
I blow through your hair,
My essence is air
I travel along
Thousand miles strong.
Shifting through the woods,
And trapped in the hoods
I whirl and whisk
Sometimes I frisk.
Brutal or gentle,
Often temperamental
I move and remove
Don’t need you to approve.
My only reason
To follow the season
Exercising my freedom
At random.
Categories:
frisk, nature
Form:
Rhyme