Best Rollicking Poems
Smile, O spring, smile, upon crimson arc of morning
Grinning through willows filtering golden sunbeams,
Sparkling from eyes of dew, glinting realms pristine,
Reveling through prairies, giggling tenor of streams,
Glistening core of purple-iris, soul of flaxen-pansies.
Waltz, O spring, waltz, shimmying blushing peonies,
Meandering with butterflies chasing nectar carefree,
Bouncing moods of bees from tree to flowering tree,
Elated strumming rhythms fluttering woody-foothills,
Grooving with meadows, humming lyrics of winds.
Sail, O spring, sail, rowing glee of seas-undulating,
Buoyant on spirits rushing from rivers, tributaries,
Traversing through terrains, once frigid, decaying,
Zealous now to venture, to rollicking side of being,
Surfing waves questing summer of sandy beaches.
Dream, O spring, dream, of mythical northern lights,
Glimpsed from garden of sumptuous white gardenias,
Through womb of dawn, hued in lavender of lilacs,
Preening beauty of flora, scintillating dawning aura,
As yonder of skies shimmers motifs of green aurora.
Categories:
rollicking, imagery, spring,
Form:
Imagism
The old stream doesn’t burble
like it used to in Spring’s past -
rambunctious in youth wild it ran
racing the sun and chasing the moon
splashing leaping and tumbling
over, down and around rocks in its shallow channel -
giving it rollicking laughter
The old stream doesn’t play with sunlight
like it used to in Summer’s past -
when unending yellow dahlia days gentled its flow
allowing for reflections and explorations around each bend
and for savoring saffron skies and plum-shaded shadows
that seemingly stretched on forever -
giving it invincibility
Autumn saw a change in the old stream
under a herald of goldenrod fireworks
waters waned becoming tired and tamed
its banks and shoaly bed littered with Fall’s golds and reds;
a once lilting voice grew quieter
as nocturnal rhythms trespassed towards winter’s solstice
and under the cover of darkness
a cool moon stole the stream’s slow dance with the sun -
giving it vulnerability
The old stream remembered not the goldenrod days
nor the purpose of its earthly path -
Winter charged in on his frosty horse robust with rime
and laid his icy hands upon the sleepy stream -
draining its dreams of a pulse beneath a frozen facade..
but from below the stilled surface a silver current flowed free
… giving the stream eternity.
Susan Ashley
April 12, 1019
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 23
Sponsor: Mark Toney
*Rime: frost formed on cold objects by the rapid freezing of water vapor in clouds or fog.*
Categories:
rollicking, age, appreciation, life, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
Let laughter ring, for here comes Spring.
With warbling birds we gaily sing.
As wizened Winter turns and goes,
March promptly puffs her cheeks and blows!
The Old Man’s gone. . . we’re rollicking
when next comes April frolicking
behind spry March. Her visage glows.
Let laughter ring.
Then Spring a climax sweet will bring.
There at the Maypole, in a ring,
are fetching maids in pretty clothes.
And bounteous the sun now grows
as June appears; . . Spring’s had her fling.
Let laughter ring!
Jan. 4, 2014
(Here comes Spring: I know , I know, wishful thinking!!)
Categories:
rollicking, spring,
Form:
Rondeau
I
The turbulent, windy sea calls me,
where wild foam waves break on ageless rocks,
crashing unfailing, unfading, where sea birds
are singing from overhead, and great swirls of
whitecaps scream and above the sky is azure,
beyond the breakers.
II
And on a distant beach the sublime
waves cascade along a rocky shore and water
washes over the sand and I am swept away on
a voyage and I am tranquility and peace and lost
in the changeless flow that comes and goes always,
beyond the breakers.
III
Oh, sea waves endless, immortal in
time, crashing on weather-worn craggy cliffs,
rolling around and around, over and over echoing,
and falling back into the sea with a mighty whisper,
again and again, eternally plunging, and rumbling,
beyond the breakers.
IV
This is the sea with its infinite rhythm
of strength and power, boundless the roar of waves,
undulating and tumbling on breakers. I am enthralled,
with the energy, the sea gulls dance, with rollicking
exuberance. I stand on a breaker rock as the sea
washes over me and there is no end- no way to stop it,
beyond the breakers.
V
So, mesmerizing is this awe-inspiring
majestic, beautiful, wild sea, timeless and free, and
forever. Oh, the beckoning sea caressing breakers
created by nature- it stirs me to tears this sea that
goes on beyond the horizon. The long screech of a
sea bird distracts me and I am lost in the moment,
beyond the breakers.
____________________________
February 3, 2017
Poetry/Verse/Beyond The Sea Breakers
Copyright Protected, ID 17-8723-23-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to FTI Blog Series 20 - sea
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
Categories:
rollicking, sea,
Form:
Verse
No not the portrait when you were younger, my dear
Just a Polaroid snapshot at the beach that year
No earrings, no make-up, your hair was a mess
("So what? Got a problem? I couldn't care less!")
Brother-in-law behind you, mugging like a fool
Our nephew beside him, trying to look cool
You had a little patch of sand on your chin
But oh, what a smile; what a wide, joyful grin!
Living that moment, on a rollicking high
Complete in the present, no when and no why
(Now you're tucked away safe in our own special place
So you'll always stay with me when I tremble and ache
Sometimes I unfold you when I miss you too much
Press you tight to my forehead and weep at your touch)
Categories:
rollicking, sad, wife,
Form:
Sonnet
Fair Maybelle trode through the morning dew
She peered through the foggy haze
Her blue eyes saw what I tell you is true
For the fog did part and the sun did blaze
And a pure white unicorn met her gaze
Now it may well seem it would run away
Or perhaps she would rather shy
But against her nature she hastened to stay
And an unseen cord drew her nigh
Till Maybelle's feet she laid her by
So sweetly Maybelle stroked her hair
She longed for her touch once more
But Maybelle ceased, and she left her there
For what a *wight could see, that her heart was sore
Till she meet her love on the Highdown *Tor
So Maybelle walked o'er the far and near
And her one-horned friend followed light as a bird
And they travelled on without a sight of fear
With but one care and nary a word
That winsome twosome persevered
At the long last, Maybelle heard a pleasant sound
The sound of a rollicking song
And the butterflies danced in the air all around
Whilst her love held her dearly and long
If it could, could it be that she was the theme of his song?
So the three of them lived in the fairyland *wold
Where the sun slips off to the moonlight's glow
Where the wind blows warm and the streams flow cold
And the daffodils thrive in winter's snow
Now here is the end, as you surely know
* Wight: A person
* Tor: A high pointed hill
* Wold: A wood or forest
Written 4/2/2013
Categories:
rollicking, animal, butterfly, devotion, girl,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Applauding an Acrostic Aria
Bopping to a Ballade Ballet and Blank verse Berceuse
Clapping to a Cinquain Cantata and Couplet Chorale
Dancing to a Dizain Duet
Exalting in Etheree Etudes and Elegy Ensembles
Frolicking to Free verse Folk songs and Footle Foxtrots
Galavanting to Ghazal Gavottes
Humming harmonies to a Haiku Hip Hop
Inhaling Italian sonnet Instrumentals
Jiving to a Jueje Jig
Keeping time to a Kyrielle Khaliji*
Lolling to a Limerick Lullaby
Marching to a Monorhyme Minuet
Napping to a Narrative Nocturne
Ovations for an Ottava Rima Overture and Ode Opera
Praising a Pantoum Polonaise
Quieting my quarters with a Quatrain Quadrille
Rollicking to Rondeau Rondos and Rhyme Royal Rhapsodies
Singing to Sonnet Sonatas and Sapphic Stanza Symphonies
Tapping toes to a Triolet Trio and a Tanka Tango
Unwinding to an Urban Sonnet Unison
Vocalizing a Villanelle Villanella
Whistling with a Waltz Wave Waltz
eXulting in Yaltos and Zikets
// Lines consist of a verb, a poetry form, and a musical form //
*Khaliji = modern contemporary music of Central and Eastern Arabia
Categories:
rollicking, music, poetry,
Form:
Abecedarian
My neighbour her name is Matilda
She used to step out with a builder
She loved the exotic, but became quite neurotic
When his lovemaking no longer thrilled her
Her plumbing was starting to go on the blink
And her toilet was leaking and so was her sink
She needed a man and she needed him quick
But her builder had fallen and cracked his joystick
Her cistern now broken, she needed the loo
So called out a plumber called Malcolm, she knew
He arrived with his tools and his six pack too
Her fantasy answered her dreams had come true
She succumbed to his charms and fell into his arms
Tattooed and muscular he was all she could wish for
But whilst they were frolicking her builder returned
As he gave her a rollicking, showing Malcolm the door
But Matilda and Malcolm were besotted
Malcolm’s spanner in hand, her builder she swatted
Now her love life’s exotic she’s no longer neurotic
Malcolm’s full of surprises in all shapes and sizes
Surprising Matilda each time his spanner rises
19th November 2018
Competition: Make me actually LOL
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Contest Strand Choice N
Sponsor Brian Strand
Categories:
rollicking, humorous, sexy, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
Modern times and politics tend to leave me cold
So I close my eyes and fantasize about the days of old
I’d travel back to Nottingham to serve the common good
And join the ranks of Little John, Friar Tuck and Robin Hood
I would be dashing and daring with my sword raised in the air
Fighting kings and princes for the hand of my lady fair
Sometimes I’d be a pirate, rollicking fun and pleasure
Sailing with Long John Silver, looking for buried treasure
I’d travel back to Ancient Egypt in the hot desert sand
Aid the escape by Moses to find the Promised Land
In Ireland you might find me, hiding out in a little town
Helping my fellow countrymen rebel against the crown
Then I’d be a cowboy riding the bull in the rodeo
Or standing side by side with Sam Bowie in Old San Antonio
Oh to be in Philadelphia in seventeen seventy five
Declaring independence, bringing liberty alive
In seventeen eighty nine, with a heart that’s filled with zeal
I would help the proud French citizens in storming the Bastille
I’d be a rebel and a cowboy, a pirate and a king
A bandit and a movie star, I’d laugh and dance and sing.
Categories:
rollicking, fantasytravel,
Form:
Couplet
old honkytonk piano
the ghosts of your notes
hover above you
silence becomes longing
for rhythm and rollicking songs
lost to time.
Lune Contest
nette onclaud
Visual 1
May 10th. 2020
Second Place
Categories:
rollicking, memory, music, time,
Form:
Verse
Close to election time, we have the chance
to hear the candidates for office speak,
or “stump,” in nearby towns, to give their stance
on issues and improvements that they seek,
to promise they will strengthen all that’s weak.
The term “stump speech” dates back two hundred years,
when it was not used figuratively;
and those of the American Frontier
who ran for office stood, for all to see,
on tree stumps while they campaigned movingly.
All-day affairs complete with food and beer,
these rural fetes were rollicking and loud.
The speakers then (as now) tried hard to steer
the votes their way and captivate the crowd.
By hecklers’ jeers, the brave ones were not cowed.
With jokes and boasts, some livened every speech.
Sharp jabs at rivals filled the country air.
As time progressed, some speakers chose to reach
the crowd, not from a tree stump—but a chair
or barrel. Such scenarios weren’t rare.
Historical accounts of stumping state
the names of stand-out speakers in that day.
Three skilled men who excelled in a debate—
Abe Lincoln, Stephen Douglas, Henry Clay—
were stumpers whose wise words held unique sway.
Today some folks flock to the county fair,
not just for entertainment but to see
the candidates debating with great flair,
expounding on the facts; but they won’t be
atop tree stumps to shout, “Please vote for me!”
February 1, 2022
entered in Emile Pinet's Quintain (English) Contest
Categories:
rollicking, political,
Form:
Quintain (English)
G is for Gershon,a very kind heart
E is for Enthusiastic,ever encouraging
R is for Rollicking, clever poetry
S is for Sensitive, and so inspiring
H is for Humanistic in all ways
O is for Openmindedness, so rare
N is for Nourishment for our souls
W is for Wisdom, he blesses us with
O is for Outstanding humor,'Cum Laude'
L is for Loving, that is his attitude
F is for Fortitude,and that is no platitude
*****
Dear Gershon,
You are such a loving support to so many
of us. And bring your unique laughter to us
all......every day!
With deep appreciation,
Panagiota Romios
8/5/2021
Categories:
rollicking, appreciation, dedication, friendship, poetry,
Form:
Acrostic
September’s serendipitous serenade
Evokes the ebullience of ecstasy
Provokes a prancing promenade
Tingeing the torrid leaf tips
Exacting an elemental excitements
Monumental majesty
Blue-black horizons blending
Exotically enigmatic exigencies
Ruby reds rollicking in the Rockies
John G. Lawless
©9/1/2018
Categories:
rollicking, september,
Form:
Acrostic
Raucous
Raucous, rollicking rain
Rambles on hills and plains,
Relishes rumbles in
Raptures of raw laughter,
Raindrops razzle-dazzle,
Rambunctious and rowdy,
Riots of rakish rascals
Categories:
rollicking, fun, rain,
Form:
Pleiades
Miss Muffet was a girl of thirteen, filled with youth's beauty and charm;
And a love of vibrant life zealous, like eager, vivid thunder of blue alarm.
She was a fine student, pert and popular; like the primrose popularity;
Or stars appearing at the designated hour, sparkling like crystal clarity.
Mary Muffet lived in a small town, with loving parents and her siblings,
Who sympathized with her fear of spiders; like colorful, fall misgivings.
Friends flanked their white picket fence, in fall days of glamour, striking;
And wove fanciful tales with flourish, like flowering genesis, so enticing!
Far off family ofttimes visited Fernglen, with its farms, rich with future;
For fishing and other rollicking fun, staying on 'til varicolored, fall rumor.
They lived in the house of quaint beauty, like charming red, berry sun;
Fondly gazing on pearly moon twice daily, the ritual begun on day one.
Songs sunrise to sunset serenaded, on dappled, silent, Sowerby Street;
But, a scorching summer bled scarlet roses, at the red butterfly retreat.
Near neighbors stayed on a first name basis, in unending, plum seasons;
Of days and nights of green nature; like teal surf, which never weakens.
Summer's glory was in the tiny details, like prayer plants, giving praise;
When sun face orchids, wore sunny smiles, in colored fields of noon haze.
And jade baby toes plants were crawling, through hours of soon history;
In honey days of bicolored hibiscus, filled with heady scents of mystery.
Mary attended a church celebration one day, along with her whole family;
And food was served indoors and out, as pink robin sang of gold, happily.
Mary had such fun playing games! There was much laughter and talking.
Then Mary had a craving for cheese, so like shadows, inside went walking.
Once inside, 'Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider, who sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Muffet away.'
As Mary screamed and ran, causing a rumpus, she drew a lot of attention;
But, was suddenly embarrassed by her overreaction, like fall's suspension.
Little Miss Muffet was thence more mature, a natural result of getting older,
And fear of spiders was left behind, like summer blossoming, grown bolder.
Categories:
rollicking, beautiful, celebration, fantasy, fear,
Form:
Couplet