Best Larking Poems
I, to the pasture's green could run,
and fly a kite beside the sun,
but choose, I do, to linger still,
among the dirt, what is my frill?
Low, be it may, to sink my feet,
into the slimy, pungent peat,
but with my grandad by my side,
would daily stroll along the tide.
To rescue guls stuck in the mud,
or gather sticks for firewood.
As luck would have it on one day,
the tides did change and under clay,
a viking boat from days gone by,
with shields of pine and rivots ply.
Unmasked itself from muddy deep,
a secret for ourselves to keep.
Each day, we returned, with a spade,
with picnic full of marmalade,
and feasted there beside the boat,
in our wool hat and winter coat.
Charmed not only by history,
but by such untold mystery.
Then on one fateful dreaded night,
the waves were high, the wind a fright,
storms blasted down upon the shore,
Until the longboat was no more.
My granddad early on that day,
forgot to mention or to say,
he felt unwell, or rather ill,
but trudgeoned on, a soldier still.
But in the haste of wind and gale,
I didn't realise he was pale.
By the morning when I awoke,
to no smell of cigarette smoke.
I went downstairs and saw the fridge,
his oatmeal there, still on the ridge.
Maybe a lie in, thought my head,
I ran upstairs to grandad's bed.
There asleep, I thought at a glance,
I nudged him, but he kept his stance.
He was gone, how? I hugged him tight,
and ran for the river at twilight.
So here I am beside the tide,
Waiting for the mud to reside.
But if it does, what shall I do?
For treasure is nought, without you.
Categories:
larking, childhood, fun, happy, joy,
Form:
Rhyme
"How's yours coming? Got any ideas? "
"I'm in the fifth stanza already, this is going to be neat!"
That's me and 4 other friends of the poetry club,
Scribbling away in a corner where the tree's shadow
Builds a shelter from the sun, and for the Muses
Larking away in its green rustling branches.
Really though, we should be in class....
But what's the point in hunting for an "x"
Which is written on the page, and has no meaning,
Nor content? They call it a "variable"!
Well, these words for sure are variable too,
But to play with them and twist them to falter into
New meanings (see what I did there?) is divine.
No weird symbols from a Cyrillic alphabet today for us!
We're scribbling our souls on pages, to see them live.
We could get caught but no beating could ever beat the
Exhilaration of the ink dancing into new thoughts like Adam's first breath.
(c) Nyonglema
Categories:
larking, anniversary, middle school, poems,
Form:
Free verse
Dawn comes larking through the trees
And heaven drips in fiery gold
Praise comes winging on bended knees
New mercies refresh my soul
From gritting sand faith finds its pearl
From wounded hands man's guilt is healed
Walk with me where winds now swirl
Behold the joy that daylight has revealed.
Sorrow silently melts away with night
Joy cometh in the morning full and bright
Every leaf drips jewels in love's light
Dawn comes golden and blessed is my sight
***
Here am I to embrace you, tongue wet,
Dew drenched; sweet flows this silent rivulet
Categories:
larking, faith, inspirational, nature
Form:
Verse
So much hope for understanding bright,
Larking sombrely, vertical as a servant,
Reluctance explained, quite irreverent,
For the first time feeling justified, right,
No matter the obliqueness of my plight;
But I could not certain issues circumvent,
Even though I risked an unstable mind,
Nearly there, almost ninety percent tight,
But not completely at the table spread;
I pull myself together with both hands,
Facing the community, my world given,
Steadfast guardians need a talking bed;
Conversation is sway and will enliven,
But disappointment visits me in strands.
Rhoda Monihan
Poetry form: Italian sonnet
5th November 2015
For Contest: Dancing With Description
Categories:
larking, community, emotions, mentor, sad,
Form:
Sonnet
Shut your beak!
Leave me in peace!
Go and find your own branch please.
I've had enough!
You're way too much,
Dancing and larking around and such.
Twittering on at me all night,
now it's dawn, I've had no sleep.
You can't shut your smart ass beak,
I'll shut it for you feathered freak!
For contest 'enough'
10th place win
Categories:
larking, funny, natureme,
Form:
Rhyme
The wordly world is doggy-doggy,
You need a choice, oki-doki?
Boring bloke whose flavor's labour,
Or just choose, to be daily lazy.
Life is ocean, harshing hardship,
Who gets on its board, gets bored,
But who are the king of larking,
Whose life's used as the fund of fun.
Be polar, bipolar, open to the new,
No focus on hocus pocus of the news,
Otherwise, you're wise nevermore,
You are not, to believe in every lore.
Be an absurb bird, absorbe you heard,
But select the fact without affect,
No attach! Not on a word, nor the world,
Be alone without a loan of anybody.
Give an "X" to the things you learnt,
Give no appearance to give up to learn,
Be the expert of experience, hence,
Your vitality is wit with crazy mentality.
Though the worldy world is doggy-doggy,
Health is before wealth oki-doki?
Choose a real mate, really anti-material,
You, Priceless Prince of Supriseness.
Guard your garden's Prince-apples,
They are golden pieces of your world,
Through 'em you may throw more poems,
Since all you were right in is to keep writin'.
Categories:
larking, fun, funny, life, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Spring resume summers day with many choices,
In the reunion of all seasons the nectar entwined,
Sunshine to scream out excitement in our voices,
Find outside no place to hide chimes of our mind.
Dare we stray towards the heat of sunburn way?
Cold play under festival of stars brightly dancing,
Pop into serenity of our soul for the entire day,
Music warms our emotions until we began crying.
Changing the moonlight into midnight falling sun,
Our smiling faces are picturesque miles of places,
Blew into fanzine memories the wild breeze of fun
On our journey in a flight of freedom for all races.
Happy boots clapping in muddy Sunday schools
Surround nature echoes amazing beautiful sound,
Water lapping rocks into balm of swimming pools,
Sovereign flavor tread kindly upon the soft ground.
No danger of lone rangers where crowds gathered
Larking about with twisted lyrics of Silver Spring,
Like Cockatoo magpie, mimicking sparrows adored
The saintly summer emblems of rhyme and rhythm.
Defending the hazardous thrush of flirty rain brush,
The crowd of drone dark clouds unzipping the field
In roving groups of light heels the adrenaline rush,
Probe under the blanket of night to be reconciled.
Sunlight glint appears again in emblazed flames,
Breathe through silhouette lily of warbling trees,
Summary days saved us from the dreary drains,
Made the stagnant world rise from wobbly knees.
To see fondant flowers blossomed in rosy bowers
Nothing could ever be compared to the romance
Of summers day rolling away cloudy rain showers
Over glens and valleys fading out in the distance.
Categories:
larking, celebration, dance, desire, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
They could be heard across valleys with their screeching echo
Flailing above tree height they’d flock in their thousands - the Black Cockatoo
Like nature’s eclipse, they would descend in clouds; all great gangling wings
Flapping madly at each other, swaying this way and the other
A perch full of hysterics - oh ravishingly black
Black raucous baffling broils of beak n feathers and
Snapped off sticks and nuts that crack and pop from
Ancient giants tall
All crowded in crowns hanging and swinging and larking about
A jest from the nest, others cuddling n kissing
Fanning tail feathers – pretty
But now they fall, their numbers appal
Thrown out of their homes, death by starvation, another species lost
But who gives a toss…
A red tail feather once so common on the forest track
As we yearn for their call, the lone screeching echo
That haunts the valley floor
We no longer hear the vanquished
It’s only when they’ve vanished
Will we truly pray for these ebony eccentrics?
Of the Australian bush
28 August 2014
Categories:
larking, animal, bird, environment,
Form:
Free verse
I don't want to sound like no rant nor raver
But when people say to me love thy neighbour
This woman has no once of common courtesy
It's like shes always there ready to pouce on me
A fussy old fart a right old cow,never a moments peace
Always she like's to start a row, should I call the police?
I feel a world apart ,a living hell,yeah my thoughts cease
It's always thump after thump on the ceailing
And stump after stump with just no meaning
I've never known anyone to be such a moaner
People say maybe it's a part of her personer
It's impossible sleeping with her every anyoying sound
Makes me feel so nervous with all her creeping around
And at times it feels like it's keeping me house bound
all the constant noise, her larking about with her crowd
Yeah it really annoys, her dog too that Is barking out loud
And I ask what is her tenency agrement, short hold lease?
She's so ignorant has she not heard of, breach of the peace?
written sept,nov (2005) a poem idea inspierd by an anyoing neighbour(2003)
153 belgrade sqaure coperation street trying here to add a bit of humour
as well as give a bit of insight to what she was like
and aprochong different subject matter at time
LOVE THY NEIGBOUR (2005)
Categories:
larking, life, me, old, sound,
Form:
Rhyme
I see you’ve larked with fairy friends,
On bough, in fields, near brooks -
Pebbles skim the water’s edge;
Jump skip, jump skip, hop - over brook…
‘Which side is greener?’ Asked the Dragon mare.
‘The bough of tree bridges brook - both sides have I tested’,
Says the fairy brave, but correcting honour charges -
‘From deep within the wizards’ field-view, safe!’
Adventure and foreign lands lay claim,
To imaginations fervent and fertile;
Treasures sought, leisure - larking be sought;
Toil is not for fairy folk!
‘Pray why, Dragon mare, do you enquire so?’
‘My thoughts to share with fairy folks? Ah!
‘I the pool have mastered so,
Can stir and stir the pool - like so.’
‘Watch the ripples in the pond,
Lapping and distorting so,
Muddy muddles shall I make - like so,
And in the commotion you shall I fake - like so!’
‘Watch the images of you and I…
Wish, I watch you say good bye!
Good bye! Good bye! Good bye!
The seeds I sow, like so - good bye!’
Images of Dragon and Fairy Reflecting,
Did merge in muddy muddles so,
But Dragon’s arm grew tired and weak,
Of turning and turning the pond so deep.
And wide and deep it grew as muddy muddles she did sow,
Till all around it would allow!
Tis not the way of the strongest bough,
To be broken by the Dragon’s breath.
Hence the bending bough that fringed the pond,
Did listened to the wailing Dragon sow,
The Dragon’s breath whistled, like wind;
Messages on air laid bare.
And bye the bye, time did pass,
Then all awaited with baited breath,
For the wind to change direction so.
And so it came - wind sowed did reap!
And in the pond ripples that lapped the sides,
Had changed direction so,
All engulfing did the Dragon find,
The successive waves that lapped her mind.
What a bind, the waves they lapped her mind!
‘Tis not the fairy that blinds me so,
But the bough that bends and shades the pool, like so,
And shades the reflection that is mine no more.’
There deep beneath the water so,
Now visible is the reflecting fairy so!
Bough he bent down low,
And offered the fairy reflected espousal.
Light and vision in the pool, now so clear…
Bough he ought not disappear -
Should fairy drown without him near?
Aurora swims so, dear; ought she not the Dragon fear?
Categories:
larking, allegory, fantasy, parody, fairy,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Now then Dracula my man,
You really must stop this.
It virtually scares me to death
Every time you nibble my neck.
Why can't you find others
To fulfil your night time larking?
Your nocturnal longings are not for me.
Please visit during the day
So you and I can love in peace.
Categories:
larking, conflict, confusion, desire,
Form:
Free verse
Less Grazing land
The mere on the knoll looked down at the grassland
a prairie of succulence where she and her ancestors
had lived and died for since the time long forgotten.
Behind her, her foal only a few months old, larking
about as foals do. At the distance she saw human
Habitat growing closer, the land was perfect for building
creating suburbia, road and gardens where no horse
was allowed to graze and be free to gallop without
hindrance of fences and cars.
She could smell the city, it was foul in her nose, she nudged
her foal to go uphill to the hinterland that had less
grass but for now was free of humanity.
She would do whatever she could to stop her foal
becoming a tame horse, ridden by would be cowboys
and groomed by girls of unsure sexuality
Categories:
larking, absence, dedication, green, pollution,
Form:
Blank verse
1066
Sad day on Senlac Hill.
King Harald takes an arrow
Through his royal eye.
And that Norman bastard,
Duke William, steals his crown.
Though it’s embroidery,
Not tapestry, tells the tale,
He finds himself the king of all he sees.
1297
Lord Warden of the March.
His bones well-sheathed
In tightly leathered muscle,
He guards the Western shore,
Ensconced in Carlisle Castle,
And stalks the reavers’ trail
Through Cumbria.
He finds himself the king of all he sees.
1922
Mud-larking on the Thames.
A muck rake in the hands
Of a common man,
Canvassing the northern bank
‘neath the trestle near
Cannon Street Station,
Searching for everyday treasures.
He finds himself the king of all he sees.
Categories:
larking, allegory, history,
Form:
Ballade
Bride of the morning I await your larking voice
Like nightingale's solace, or balm of woodland dove
A new year has began and how my heart rejoice
The coming hour when we alone the starry curtains shield
Cuddled in dew's sweet blanket, each breast a pillow yield
And every wave shall whisper the tenderness of love
Categories:
larking, love, nostalgia, passion, new
Form:
Sijo
MUD LARKING
Since a kid having a habit of treasure hunt,
whenever got a chance to go on riverside
picking pebbles slimed with pale mud,
scavenging for precious something submerged in alluvial deposit
of holy majestic River Ganges flowing beside my hometown.
During my childhood I accompanied my Grand Mom off and on
when she went to bathe in the river.
Once Grand Mom took me to watch a mini flood.
The tide became violent whelming, perplexing me.
My heart was swollen observing aqua opulence thrashing on bank.
Long staircase of the bathing spot leading to river on gradual immersion.
Strong tide lasted for forty minutes or so.
High rise of water level diminished leaving the usual clay and sludge.
I rejoiced starting my venture of search.
Got startled to find a golden locket
though later it turned a trinket,
yet it was preserved as gem in my vault, a toffee-box.
Next year on vacation, went to Great Grand Mom’s place
Close by flowing a slender stream running giggling with little brittle ripples
I collected two stones: one regular octagonal shaped
sparkling shining glistening.
In frolic mood I showed that to all,
where Mom’s Cousin brother was present
He insisted Mom to give him the stone.
Mom took it away and gifted to her cousin.
An innocent helpless child was cheated.
Second one opaque irregular prismoid with a sharp pointed tip.
It could cut glass perfect precise, a typical property of diamond.
I preserved it for many years but later lost.
As per my medical declaration, remnants of my bone and ash
to be put on River Ganges to blend with clay.
May be on rebirth, me as child to go for mud larking
on edges of River Ganges.
04/06/20
Categories:
larking, 12th grade, appreciation,
Form:
Narrative