Best Gregarious Poems


Premium Member A Picnic With Pablo Neruda

Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll

On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering

We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling

Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright

Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume

We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink

Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon

Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.

Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains

“I love you…I love you”

Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze

I fall upon my knees

My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free

“I love you…I love you…I love you”

Premium Member Flowers and Champagne

Fragile Fabulous Finessed Fragrance
Luxurious Lavish Lasting Loveliness
Overwhelming Optimistic Overture
White Wintry Whimsical Whisper 
Elusive Enamored Enchantment
Relentless Romantic Rhythmic Reverie
Stunning Sentimental Sensuous Seduction

Absolute Adorable Addiction
November Nightfall Nurtured Nuances
Delectable Divine Daydreams

Captivating Cherished Celebration
Heavenly Harmonious Happiness
Amorous Ambient Authenticity
Magnificent Mystifying Magnetism
Paradisiac Poetic Playfulness
Alluring Adventure Aficionado
Guileless Gregarious Godliness
Notable Nuptial Newsworthiness
Exquisite Ecstatic Exuberance



AP: 3rd place 2022

Mum's Advice Ignored - "don'T Talk To Strangers!"

When I was young, an urban lass, and not gregarious,
I’d never dream of speaking to a stranger on a bus.

I’d sit, demure, my eyes downcast, and hope quite desperately
That none of those weird passengers would try accosting me.

But, now I’m “fair and forty” (ish!) I’m bolder, and what’s more,
I’ve lived so long in Somerset I’d clean forgot mum’s law …

Until I went to London town to see my student daughter;
She lectured me for doing what I really didn’t oughta!

“You shouldn’t, mum! It isn’t safe!” she cried, in some alarm.
“Some folk round here are really strange. you might have come to harm!”

I’m sorry I upset her, but  I carried on regardless.
I found most folks in London are quite friendly … even harmless.

Oh! I do love London Transport, and its camaraderie!
I had such fun, and lots of laughs and all completely free (!)

But now I’m home, I realise …
That weirdo, then,
Was me!!


Premium Member And Yet

AND YET?

If one short word could describe Betty, it’s fun
Gregarious, though seemingly loaded, falls short
You’d have to hear her laugh,
Have to see that lovely face blaze in every upward 
      grace
The voice is brown sugar, with hope of loving hugs
      In return
Betty can, on a cold, cloudy day, lift the face of any
      sunflower
Can inspire the weary to play
She is incredible, and yet?

I’ve caught her in a pensive mood
In solitude she is even more lovely, and yet?
This is not the Betty we know, flock to
She’s by the window, but gazes into space, 
Hand on cheek, arm supporting a downward frozen
      stare 
Same auburn hair tied in a bun at back
Same petite, protruding ear, delicate nose and mouth
Same all alluring, adult woman dressed in 
      mid morning attire, and yet?
As though lost in a moment, or bygone moments,
      she is absent from the flash and hilarity of her
      other world


No getting into that descending, unbending tunnel of
      inner cogitation
Our playmate has gone wandering through fields of
      joy, want, and regret, and yet?
There is no doubt Betty will come out from the 
      hiding wings to a loving life, to play another
      day on stage

Dave Austin

I Am a Starling

I am part of a display team
we don't practice, we all just know
to twist and turn together,
as we put on our aerobatic show.

This display is called a murmuration
the visual delight, showing no fear.
The oohs and aahs of the watchers
as the birds shows you autumn is here

We are noisy birds
seemingly never alone
our green brown plumage
with buff spots we call our own

I am a gregarious bird
I squawk and quarrel all day,
can  mimic about twenty birds
like a nightingale they say

If you have a nest box I will gladly stay
you being around won't worry me,
in it my four blue eggs I will lay
soon the youngsters will fly free.

I might be a noisy neighbour
yet no garden is alive without me.
The Robin is pretty but a fighter
blue ****,blackbirds sparrows you'll see.

So gardeners when you plant up your flowers
sow your lawns and baskets you hang.
Remember to also put up a feeding table
put out seeds for the starlings that sing.


Penned 11 May 2015

Fire Monkey

Cunningly swinging
On the trees of life
Playing his pranks
Winding up the wife

Enjoying every challenge
Using his brain
Owning it. Bossing it
Playing the game

He's a Chinese Monkey 
- a little bit spunky
A little bit of attitude
A little bit of grit

Dashing, darting
With daring and drive
Top of the tree
And feeling alive

Dancing with spirit
Fire and wit
Not at all annoying
- well, maybe just a bit(!)

He's a Chinese Monkey 
- can get a bit funky
A little bit of attitude
A little bit of grit

Friendly when he wants to be
He'll pat you on the back
Can get a bit competitive
Never one to slack

Ants in his pants
Fire in his belly
Gregarious.  Free.
Can give it some welly

He's a Chinese Monkey 
- Full-speed junkie
A little bit of attitude
A little bit of grit

Nimble on his feet
Able with his hands
Confident and up-beat
Always with a plan

Charming little fella
Curious too
Has the metal and the dignity
To get himself through

He's a Chinese Monkey 
- can get a bit funky
A little bit of attitude
A little bit of grit

Little bit of attitude
Little bit of grit

Little bit of attitude
Little bit of grit


Premium Member Where Did She Go

Alone in my office
after a full day of teaching
I sit
catching my breath
looking at the picture
next to the phone
a baby girl
poses for the camera
big grown eyes
chubby cheeks
impish grin
a discarded toy behind her
smiling for daddy
so full of mischief and joy
Where did she go?

I look at pictures behind me
The young woman
Slim
Beautiful
Self- confident
voluptuous
sexy
luxuriant hair
sparkling smile
the poser
gregarious, vivacious, full of life
Where did she go?

I look into the ornate mirror
a woman in her forties
black hair starting to show white
pinned up high
a crown of curls
her one vanity
but it brings
no hint of a smile
tears gather 
in those big brown eyes
a sigh
here she is
here she is….
that little girl
turned young and pretty
then middle aged
sage
no longer in her prime
she sits and wonders
about the passage of time
Questions surface...
Why have her dreams died?
Why must she be denied?
When was the last time
She truly felt alive?

Yes
Here she is
And soon she’ll go…
her heart fills with sorrow
there is still so much of her
that remains
unknown...

Eileen

Premium Member Stoic View of Life

Our path, sometimes grows arduous with bends and twists.
Trials of life keep tormenting us and others.
It's miserable to watch or endure such suffering.
But despite all heartache, we feel we are not done.

When I see the swamp bird with broken wings
Struggling to rise from the water’s edge.
When I see the deer, running away from its predator,
With all its might, I am filled with a zest to fight all odds.

In my doubt, such scenes fill me with reassurance,
Making me feel the rush of blood in my veins.
Today is the only day, a minutia of life,
To get all wrongs right, to seize all opportunity.

Adversities can hang heavy on us, pulling us down.
But muster courage and catch the bull by its horn.
Winds may blow, tempests may rise,
But don’t relent, persevere, and endure.

Never allow your fears parade victoriously
Through the spectrum of your dreams
When you feel life as bland and monochrome
Think of the colors of the rainbow arching in heaven

To make life sweet, recall all the sweet moments,
Those that you want to re-live again
Sure, there are a million of them, joyous and sweet,
Exciting, and engaging, pouring balm on our scars.

Let us freeze those moments in time!
Too precious to go off our heart.
They make life worth living, worth cherishing,
Giving each fresh morning a kick start.

Have you forgotten to laugh over a prank?
Have you stopped watching a lovely scene?
Have you evaded a gregarious company?
Have you failed to enjoy a savory cuisine?

Break free of all the ropes that bind!
Let loose the spirit within and let it fly high.
Shed out your dry reticence n’ reserve!
Let your geniality, many hearts win!

Face To Face With a Nameless Dame

Hold your fire
Let your sharp tongue retire
When to the fore sneaks your ire

Increasing carelessness danger
Thinking in your mind you’re an indomitable ranger
Although in your own skin you turn into a total stranger

Body somehow cut off from your mind
With a baggage of axes to grind
When moderation and restraint remind you to find

Better avenues conflicts to handle
As your roving hand to a pristine place strays to fondle
In the way you assuage your sorrow bundle

Hoping to progress, succeeding in failure
As your successes grow increasingly fewer
Cos your ire and short fuse couldn’t find a cure

To the uncertainty and unpredictability you nurture
In times of stress. To the fore comes a procrastination culture
You extrapolate into your unreachable future

Where no spouse tolerates you
Cos normal life you have no clue
Neither can you fasten happiness with gregarious glue

Much as you dare to dream
You’d crossed over with flying colours a fast moving stream
When in fear of the unknown you did scream

And to your rescue came a dame
Svelte, graceful who declined to you give both her name and game
Fearing your bad reputation would sully her with both blame and shame.

Will You Be My Quarantine

What’s all this
Nonsense
Inch tapes out
Everyone measuring distance
They call it
‘Social distancing’
Never heard
Of any such thing
After all
Man is gregarious 
He, she and us
Add to it
That one more bit 
About ‘Self isolation’
Living all alone
Not a soul around, 
Absolutely none
But wait
This we’ve
Already been practising 
Bringing into our lives
The much required zing
Some dark, dingy place
Lying curled
Avoiding the world
Dodging prying eyes
Inventing all those lies
Two middle aged love birds
Coochie-cooing
Doing just our sort of thing  
Our love 
Since turning on
Its ignition
Has always been 
On the run
Yes, I’ve tested positive
For CUPID-20
Me, supposedly vulnerable
Though, not exactly 60
Now you’ll say
I’ve to stay away
Ok, take it easy
Just chill mate
I’m ready to co-operate 
But with a condition
The world I’ll shun
But lock me up
With her
Let my Valentine
Be my quarantine.
© Vijai Pant  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Poet Dreamer

Poet.

People find me loyal, softhearted, gregarious, and an intellectual.

I was born the third eldest of ten sisters and two brothers. 

I love my husband, our family, children and ordinary folks.

My poems express empathy, compassion and indignation. 

I fear a bleak future, wrought by global warming, and over population.

And if it were possible, I'd love to meet Jesus, an alien and Nikola Tesla. 

A prolific writer, I'm a proud resident of Toronto Ontario, Canada.

Dreamer.


(Bio)


Jan. 26, 2019

My Words Constrict Suppression

My words are not poisonous
I have a spider in my mouth
They are neither venomous
I rest a forked tongue between my teeth

My words are lovers
They sentence hate to death
My words speak spokes
That turn the windmill of truth

My words are jealous
They sound only like me
My words are ravenous
They crave bloodlust for my enemy

My words are envious
Of the lips others’ melody
My words are ambiguous
They wrote what I couldn’t say

My words are ridiculous
They couldn’t escape my voice
My words are gregarious
They forever speak to my internal monologue

My words are polite
They ask to be read 
My words are silent
But they speak to your mind

My words are selective
They censor my thoughts 
My words are constructive
They survey willing hearts and minds

Premium Member After the Party, I Woke up on a Tropical Island

It being a holiday, with friends, I went to chill out
In a gregarious company, partying was sheer fun
After a heavy booze, my first-time experience, 
I fell flat, plunging into deep sleep and dreaming away  

In my dream, I sailed away
Over the tame waters of a tranquil bay
And landed in a magic isle
Never set foot before by anyone alive

A pleasant retreat of birds and beasts
Far removed from world’s dust and heat
A tropical island with a magical spell
Hidden away at Nature’s veiled breast

The sky was rent with songs of birds
The air, smelling of odors sweet
Here and there were exotic blooms
Bird of Paradise, Plumeria and jasmine 

I roamed frivolously from end to end 
Of that enchanted land of idyllic charm 
With twining creepers and tall growing grass 
Proclaiming aloud of a perennial spring

My heart leaped in euphoric delight
My senses alerted in ecstatic thrill
My feet moved in an explorer’s gait
After the treasures stashed in its caverns deep

I rambled relentlessly through untrodden paths
Feasting on the marvels, my eyes could catch
Arching trees framing a leafy roof
And fruits, ripe and raw, hanging from every bough

As Nature, thus unveiled her bounty before,
My fancy, unfettered took to wings. 
I loved my sway over that fairy land
With treasures galore that none could claim

But how suddenly loomed an unwelcome thought
That dampened my spirits and stole my joy
“Will I ever be able to see my folks
To be enmeshed once more in a warm embrace”?

Longingly I looked for a ship skimming the sea
To carry me back to my native land
To get united with all my loved ones
To live a life ever, as lived before

Like a marooned sailor, desperate, as I cried
To alert the ship that sailed away
I heard distinct my husband’s anxious query
“Darling, what made you scream so loud”???

Premium Member Seeking Cheeriness

I have withdrawn from grim and gloomy feelings.
I have no time for wistful faces that plague the day
with melancholy conversation and life-sucking sadness.
The drama too much to digest and too trivial to express. 
The shroud of depression envelopes the soul
spiraling it toward the depths of psychosis.

	Discard delusions of undignified and unfounded discontent.

Instead, I seek cheerful gladness and joyful vibes.
I invest my time with gregarious and social aspects
of amiable discourse and exuberant life-serving happiness.
The manzai of life situations is peculiar funniness.
The revealing mirthful banter opens the psyche
whirling it toward heights of responsible normalcy.
 
	Embrace each moment as though it is the last – it could be.

Premium Member Bells

Multitudinous bells secern the tones
as may resound sharp bamboo xylophones.

Pulchritudinous bells have rhythmic ding,
others that linger with tedious ring.

Some little bells can echo a jingle
that surely bestow a Christmas tingle.

Quite many bells ting melodious chime
prompting our schedule's punctilious time.

A carillons' unique, harmonized bells
swing from gentleness to overtone swells.

Suspended bronze discs reach resonant gongs,
characterized by gregarious songs.

A bittersweet bell that distantly tolls
announces angelic release of souls.

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