Best High Stepping Poems


Premium Member Bobcat Moon

She sits on the porch in a cool desert night
A bobcat stalks prey in the day's fading light
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
Evoking old memories she thought she outgrew

Memories of nights of moutons and mums
High stepping half-times and booming bass drums
And homecoming dances that ended too soon 
Under West Texas stars and a big bobcat moon

He sits on the beach in an evening gulf breeze
An autumn vacation in the Florida keys
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And brings to his mind an old memory anew

The reunion that gathered together that year
Old friends and acquaintances scattered and near
To tell stories of glories till late afternoon
And share in the evening the big bobcat moon

We sit by the lakeside past sunset one time
The end of another communion sublime
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And summons a vision of friends we once knew

She flies round the barrel with her long ponytail
He yells and rings joy on the victory bell
We loved them and all those who left us too soon
We'll remember them well with the big bobcat moon

©January 10, 2013

For my high school reunion group. The bobcat is our school mascot. 
In Texas, girls often dressed up for the homecoming game and were given a chrysanthemum (mum) corsage by their date. In the late fifties an inexpensive "fur" coat made from straightened and dyed sheepskin called a "mouton" was often worn by girls wanting to look elegant.
© Roy Jerden  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: high stepping, autumn, friendship, loss, moon,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member artic somersaults

artic somersaults 11-30-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
artic somersaults

arctic colors bluster
 gossamer rainbow ripples ~
  northern lights fanfare

north winds of daybreak
 electric neon highlights ~
  polar bears snoring

pink and green streaks flash
 watermelon auroras ~
  iceberg skyscrapers

auroras fox trot
 light in staccato steps ~
  high stepping brilliance

tundra skies blush
 frozen lights do somersaults ~
  polar breaths glow
Categories: high stepping, light, winter,
Form: Haiku

That Is Not My Elephant

That is not my elephant
High-stepping in the basement.
Ardently preparing for her pachyderm placement.
Tapping her trunk on the window’s casement. 

Instantly intriguing, oh, the fashion statement.
Surprisingly sprightly swinging resplendent pendant.
 
Nonchalantly swaying as she strolls, compliant. 
Opulence sparkles one gorgeous graceful giant.  
To top it all off, her temperament is pliant.
 
Metrical motion moves this perky pageant entrant.
Yesterday’s wildlife intellectually scathed though brilliant –

Ella is my elephant; she wears casual raiment. 
Laughs and eats spaghetti, always thinking, ideas salient.
Endlessly explaining the elephant’s Bill of Rights, relevant! 
Protecting second graders from every evil social rodent.
Heart-fully relating principles, she is strong and poignant.
An awesome able activist against any aggressive tyrant,
Nurturing each nascent one, noticeably effervescent.
Tenderly flapping her ears, because of pure love’s placement.



© January 15, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Form: Acrostic with monorhyme and alliteration
Categories: high stepping, animals, funny, nature, social
Form: Acrostic

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Dickensian Time

In Dickensian time 
Upon sunset hour
Overshadowing Thames
Is London Tower
Blackened cobble streets
Shimmer in the rain
Big Ben at Westminster
Chimes an eight bells refrain

At Euston Station
A passenger alights
On Platform 3
And enters the caff
for a nice cup of tea

At the local tavern
Behind steamy windows
The opportunists sit
Gleaning local gossip
Ever watchful to ensnare
Any hapless stranger 
come wandering there

Covent Garden
still well lit
As lamplighters
carry out their remit
Striding with ladders
about old London town
With a cheery wave
and a purposeful frown

Patrolling policemen
in forbidding places
Echoing footfalls
as boots make paces

A courting couple shelters
under the arches
Oblivious to passerby's
and dray cart horses

A hackney driver cracks his whip
As high stepping hooves
on cobbles clip

From Westminster
stove pipe hatted M.P.s from
parliament sitting
enter a members club
to continue their
political discourses
unremitting

Mudlark urchins ankle deep
in moonshine glow
watch chugging steam boats
along the Thames flow 

Billingsgate Market's
straw boated and 
stripe aproned men
are found sluicing
with brooms in hand
the blood drenched ground

Along the West End thoroughfares
Come wealthy patrons
in open carriages with lantern flares
wearing evening attire
Bejewelled ladies in fanciful frocks
And around bare shoulders
Stoles of mink and silver fox
They ascend the red carpeted stairs
And look towards the royal box

A pretty young street seller
of violets and roses
with straw basket on hip
proffers up the scented poses

A peasouper fog blankets from
Thames to chimney tops
As a trader hooks his shutters down
Outside his haberdashery shop

Across London Bridge the East End rabble
Trail homeward to Hackney, Bethnal Green
and Whitechapel

From an open pub door
streams a music hall tune
played on an accordion
in a crowded tap room

Wending amongst the walkers
in the Strand
run beggarly children
with outstretched hand.

And......
Charles Dickens
walks the streets
at night
taking note 
of every sight.
Categories: high stepping, places,
Form: Free verse

Sunlight's Shadows

Sunlight's shadows, breeze tumbled
Kaleidoscope of jig saw puzzles
Pond's wrinkled face, old and wise
Accumulated  knowledge
Fallen coconuts, lazy lay
Pink skirts, deeper eyes; hibiscus, oleander
Flirting friends, fat bladed grass
Green with envy
High stepping investigating crowd
Folded flapping wings, noisy as teenagers
Squirrel holes, mounded soil
Half a hand full of wounded earth
Gaggles gather, egrets entertain
Maintain pecking order, crowded, gossiping
Around the corner, brisk pace
Home is sight                                                                                           
Viewing nature's gifts
Categories: high stepping, nature
Form: Free verse

?.."get Up America"..!

Cal Expos vibrant colourful crowd; jewels as treasures?!

A sea of laughter and excitement; such anticipation

Ushering in together the end of a summers, fading year....

This turning of a decades, leaving the world behind ~

Escapisms wonderful sights; to rest, and then to capture

Utopias hearts within a bottles, dream filled sighs

Memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected throughout time....

Beyond the midways bright lights and stuffed animals; thrill rides!?

The fairest wheel turning; screams and smiles; precious lives ~

Walking up to the finish line, to gaze upon the post parade

Unable to recollect, as unto exactly which race, it was

Everything coming to a halt; frozen; as he looks into my eyes....

Warmed by this immaculate thought; possibilities, of a recent born?!

High stepping and prancing; silent words, to be reserved

For a late Autumns morn, many years later; this page so turned ~

A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he and I....

Coming down the home stretch, amid a chorus of jubilant cheers

Searing, the poles as he passes; golden dust rising from beneath his hooves!?

Shining, majestic mane as that of a crown; something magical, now

Stirring within the whisperings, softly spoken wind ~

Into my very soul; a new horizon; the bluest of metaphores....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His name, "Get Up America?!"
Categories: high stepping, faith, history, life, love,
Form:


Beau

Here's one just for the fun of it!


Beau

I saw him at a show,
a handsome stallion named Beau,
horse with a high-stepping prance,
every judge he would please,
winning horse-shows was a breeze…
but he secretly wanted to dance.

“Cause a man named Bill Willy
had the most beautiful filly,
whom Beau really wished to impress…
but his insides turned to jelly,
when he got cramps in his belly,
thanks to Bill, he was now in a mess.

The filly called, “How do you do?”
A cute whinny Beau took for his cue,
then he gladly neighed back with delight.
Yes, Beau then took a chance;
just one direct gaze in her glance…
for he had dreamt of her, day and night.

Her coat was shiny and fair,
there she had the most stylish flair,
to Beau, she was a beauty quite unique.
She nearly took his breath away,
as his heart started racing that day,
although his legs were shaky and weak.

This filly was ready to dance,
so Beau started a hot romance,
though it seemed touch and go for awhile.
Beau forgot all about his prance,
he finally learned how to dance
and he was glad he’d gone that extra mile!

By tiptoe
Categories: high stepping, children, , cute,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Antique Mirror

Strolling through the museum today I saw a fancy mirror on the wall.
'Twas framed with baroque gilt and standing nearly nine feet tall.
A card attached revealed that is was over eight score years eld.
I sat on a nearby bench to muse upon past images it might have beheld.

In my reverie I pictured many scenarios, letting my mind roam.
Could it have graced the entry hall of a fine Victorian home,
Reflecting a gracious young lady clad in fancy ribbon and lace,
Sadly parting, seeing her soldier off to war with a final embrace?

Perchance it was displayed in the ballroom of a grand hotel,
Reflecting the graceful dancing of many a beautiful belle!
Could it have been owned by a colonel of cavalry on the frontier,
Where he preened himself practicing to appear militarily severe?

Perhaps it hung on the wall of a raucous Cripple Creek saloon,
Capturing images of high-stepping dancer and drunken buffoon!
Maybe it saw a reflection of the sheriff coming through the door,
To quell a gunfight, leaving desperadoes sprawled upon the floor!

I sensed a profusion of ghostly images peering back at me,
Each an icon with a tale that will be etched for all eternity.
Reflections of exciting and glorious days now long gone by,
Evoking precious memories, perhaps a tear and many a doleful sigh!

Entry for Craig Cornish's "Mirror Mirror" Contest
Categories: high stepping, fantasy, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme

High Kicking Rasberries

The tale of the high kicking raspberries in two hundred lines of silt and steamed porridge oats.

Keynotes noted kissing keystones keep keystrokes kingly. But kingly is often not associated with kindness, kinship, or kept keepers keeping keys. It is the weeping of a solitary blade of grass that catches the attention of a wild anarchical lawnmower who's wild swooping on grass is a heavyweight chomp on many a bud spawned. One day as the blade grabbed a tissue carelessly discarded by a human hand it was considered to be a white flag. Waving. To say peace peace peace. To the bulldozers, mowers, and high stepping line dancing rakes. Pylons pulled piling pins profusely. How rather pious! And the building of a rat craft can really only be radically achieved under the main arch of a microspore whose antics with a slide causes great entertainment for microscopes who clap clap clap and roar approval in their bemused fashion. And so back to the upset blade of grass. It stood now shrouded by the tissue and frightened to leave the confines in case a heavy foot went by. Stomp. But no this was not the ending. Instead the beat of wings arrived with a squawk a Mohawk and a peck peck peck. Confused birdie thought he had found a piece of bread. Due to the tears the tissue had stuck to the blade of grass and so up it went with the border collie coloured birdie into the air and away. That was an ending found from under a stone. Perhaps a cone might signal the felling of the scraping scraps of sheet metal. Product placed peanuts. And the prowess of a Dutch infused marble cocktail is equivalent to a little vaporised milk carton. Moooooo then. A single scroll is a single scribe and a single scrolling scribe is setting sail on a magnificent lake with high towering mountainous vista scenes with ten scones. Z disambiguation. Z at three marshmallows singing to a tune of pan to twelve monkfish rotating in a septic water tank in a half pint cup. Quedos. *** z
Categories: high stepping, baby,
Form:

Get Up America

Cal Expos vibrant colourful crowd; jewels as treasures?!

A sea of laughter and excitement; such anticipation

Ushering in together the end of a summers, fading year....

This turning of a decades, leaving the world behind ~

Escapisms wonderful sights; to rest, and then to capture

Utopias hearts within a bottles, dream filled sighs

Memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected throughout time....

Beyond the midways bright lights and stuffed animals; thrill rides!?

The fairest wheel turning; screams and smiles; precious lives ~

Walking up to the finish line, to gaze upon the post parade

Unable to recollect, as unto exactly which race, it was

Everything coming to a halt; frozen; as he looks into my eyes....

Warmed by this immaculate thought; possibilities, of a recent born?!

High stepping and prancing; silent words, to be reserved

For a late Autumns morn, many years later; this page so turned ~

A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he and I....

Coming down the home stretch, amid a chorus of jubilant cheers

Searing, the poles as he passes; golden dust rising from beneath his hooves!?

Shining, majestic mane as that of a crown; something magical, now

Stirring within the whisperings, softly spoken wind ~

Into my very soul; a new horizon; the bluest of metaphors....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His name, "Get Up America?!" *
Categories: high stepping, art, baby, cancer, love,
Form:

Premium Member China Moon

The lions are not called upon to dance,
                          High-stepping dragons have been shooed away,
                            On burly drums mallets don’t spryly prance,
                             Golden gongs coyly blush in hushed array.
                          Its charm the moon needs no frills to enhance,
                                 No lantern can mimic its full display,
                                  The city it gilds with a placid light,
                            The eye it woos from its Mid-Autumn height.
Categories: high stepping, appreciation, autumn, celebration, light,
Form: Ottava rima

Get Up America

Cal Expo's vibrant colourful crowd jewels as treasures ~
A sea of laughter excitement such anticipation ushering in together 
The end of a summer's fading year; this turning of a decades leaving her world
Behind escapism's wonderful sights to rest and then capture Utopias hearts 
within a bottle's
Dream filled sighs memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected 
throughout time
Beyound his midway's bright lights, stuffed animals, thrill rides their fairest 
wheel turning
Screams and smiles joy and laughter precious, priceless lives ~
Walking up to the finish line gazing upon it's post parade: unable to recollect
As unto exactly which race this was ? Everything coming to a halt frozen while 
He looked into my eyes warmed by, this immaculate thought possibilities, of a 
recent borne....
High stepping prancing silent words to be reserved, for a late Autumn's morn 
many years 
Later this page revealed ~ A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he 
and I ?
Coming down the home stretch amid a chorus in jubilee's cheers searing their 
poles as passing ~
Golden dust rising from aneath His hooves shining, majestic mane be that; of 
a crown something magical now
Stirring within these whisperings her softly spoken wind my very Soul: New 
horizons the bluest tomorrows love's, metaphor....

***************************************************************
**********************************************

....`His name, "Get Up America?!" ~
Categories: high stepping, angel, baby, jesus, love,
Form:

Horsey-People

Sorry honey, BettyeJean can't come over and play
with you- she's got a show today
my mother said, patting me on the head
as my father muttered something
barely audible about those
mumble-grumble horsey-people
and their shows
He despised show horses
and the people who showed them

My father believed that
all things wild, animal or child
should be left alone to do their “thing”
but BettyeJean's Mama said
show horses couldn't do anything
naturally- as it might ruin their training
and I think she was afraid we might
ruin BettyeJean's training, too

All this impressed me
maybe not so much
my father's philosophy
as his choice of wording-
Horsey-People.

I pictured them all
my friend, BettyeJean
her Mama and
her Mama's high-end friends
with huge horse heads
on long arched necks
proud and haughty
resting on human upper-bodies
with horse rear-ends and legs
reared up, upright
they were quite a sight!
High-stepping
in useless circles
busy impressing themselves
Categories: high stepping, animal, humor, humorous, imagery,
Form: Free verse

The Golden Gate Squirrel Shape

Years ago after
                     hitching as a lark
                   I was dropped off at
              The Golden     Gate Park
             I  decided  to     walk for a 
             minute or         two Since I
                  had             nothing bet-                   ter   to
                                   do Now Squir-               rels  and
                             I weren't in good                stead Ever
                         since one dropped                 a nut on my
                      head So when on a               limb one sudden-
                   ly appeared It was             one of the things that
                I feared. I jumped            back and it jumped down
               It ran up to where 2 women it found. The woman
                  on the right wore a pants suit. Up inside her
                     pants leg is where he did scoot As soon as he was
                        up inside her pants, She screamed and did a
                              high stepping dance It wasn't
                                 long before the squirrel got
                                        away But I'll tell you
                                                 what it sure
                                                       made my day!
© Pat Adams  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: high stepping, animal, appreciation, funny,
Form: Shape

Get Up America

Cal Expos vibrant colourful crowd; jewels as treasures?!

A sea of laughter and excitement; such anticipation

Ushering in together the end of a summers, fading year....

This turning of a decades, leaving the world behind ~

Escapisms wonderful sights; to rest, and then to capture

Utopias hearts within a bottles, dream filled sighs

Memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected throughout time....

Beyond the midways bright lights and stuffed animals; thrill rides!?

The fairest wheel turning; screams and smiles; precious lives ~

Walking up to the finish line, to gaze upon the post parade

Unable to recollect, as unto exactly which race, it was

Everything coming to a halt; frozen; as he looks into my eyes....

Warmed by this immaculate thought; possibilities, of a recent born?!

High stepping and prancing; silent words, to be reserved

For a late Autumns morn, many years later; this page so turned ~

A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he and I....

Coming down the home stretch, amid a chorus of jubilant cheers

Searing the poles as he passes; golden dust rising from beneath his hooves!?

Shining, majestic mane as that of a crown; something magical, now

Stirring within the whisperings, softly spoken wind ~

Into my very soul; a new horizon; the bluest of metaphors....

********************************************************************

His name, "Get Up America?!"
Categories: high stepping, america, celebration, love,
Form:
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