Best Romp Poems
(WARNING SIGNS)
You are old and fragile
Claiming to be a lion when in bed
In some way, you remind me of the walking dead
Your bones make a sound when walking across the room
Rattling, as if they know your end is near
Confusing rigor mortis where muscle mass once stood
You say you have stamina that has no end
Until now, your back hurts when you move
Losing count of every inch that got away!!!
With your moods constantly changing,
I prefer not to mention the belly fat around your waist
Then you have romantic days, you plea to love
You chase down a Viagra pill with red fuzz
Seemingly, without adding depression to your day
Pill's are the only object expanding when swallowed
40 some, and you think you can romp around the room
I yawn, yet you are the one tired, next to doom
Dusty and old you boxer shorts
Can't remember the last time you stayed up late
Kicking the bucket every time I talk about S E X
Your hairline aged with time, bold and bald
I forgot which one you recalled this morning
Perhaps these are signs of low testosterone
Merely in the meantime............... R.I.P. WILL YA!!!
BY: PD
Categories:
romp, body, change, confusion, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Mystical Moon, languidly adrift in pallid glory,
is holding night court, clad in gold silk sarong.
Ruling her astral kingdom, amusing with a story
about a cow and a spoon; singing a lyrical song.
"Wondrous Moon," said I, "lamp unto this night,
may your lustrous path stay vigilant and not stray."
In comply, I saw strung on high, myriads of bright,
luminous stars, glinting down on a fishing quay.
Moonlight plays on lily pads, afloat on Amon Bay,
shining on croaking bullfrogs, just having fun,
bathing in nocturnal frolic until faint spark of day,
flirting with saucy winks and adding, "Hiya, Sun."
As morning draws nigh; moonlight slowly dims.
Luna will crown Sol at horizon's cusp of dawn.
Baronial is his warmth, but now my vision swims.
I'm drowning in a whirlpool, trying not to yawn.
Mystical moon will glow tonight with vivid pomp.
Again, donning a corona, flowing in auras of light.
As sunlight lulls, worn out from his daily romp,
I'll waltz in moonlight, among dazzling stars tonight.
July 16th, 2020
Lipogram Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Categories:
romp, moon, sun,
Form:
Rhyme
Apple blossoms flutter in the breeze. Awakening,
Barefoot to the brook we go, brightly scampering,
Counting caterpillars discovered on our way -
Daffodil and daisy picking this delightful day.
Enjoying the earth’s rebirth, revitalized are we!
Free, like foals we frolic through the fields with energy.
Green surrounds us; onto grass gratefully we fall.
Happy to have found this heaven, on a hill we sprawl.
Invigorated by our rest, in a little while,
Joyously we jump right up; we only have a mile. . .
Knowing we are getting close, faster now we run,
Leaping over lilies lying lush beneath the sun.
Myriads of other meadow flowers now appear.
Nature’s hidden splendor is getting very near.
Over by an old oak tree, it’s coming into view!
Picture perfect, it presents a pure and pleasant hue.
Quickly we approach it, without a single qualm.
Refreshingly it beckons us; our romp disturbs its calm.
Suddenly we’re splashing , and later we will seek
Tadpoles that are teeming in this, our secret creek.
Until the sun has disappeared in the April sky,
Vibrant crimson will have spilled through clouds. We say goodbye
With great reluctance to our brook, which has been for us
Xanadu! But now the warmth of home awaits us. Thus. . .
Youthful frolicking is finished. We have left the stream.
Zesty I could be again but only in a dream!
Submitted Dec. 4, 2021 on Word: Zesty
For the '''Z'' Contest, New or Old -' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
romp, dream, spring,
Form:
Abecedarian
A gypsy dance enthralls the stars
into a twirl of rustling hems
as women tap bare feet, guitars
lift twiddling notes of lore’s anthems
along a woodland’s lively fest,
where beaded hair glides in thrilled zest
to charm night’s hours...to romp away
till wagon drifts when morning strays.
My destiny number is 7, though I chose
my path number 8--- jan 8
rispetto form in 8 lines
------------
Andrea Dietrich's Tell Me Your Number Contest
Categories:
romp, dance, magic,
Form:
Rispetto
Our sweet dog Holly lies under our tree
She is wagging her tail so gleefully,
Knocking about the light Christmas tree balls.
She becomes quite shocked as one of them falls.
Holly thinks her gifts are ribbons and bows
She chews them and hides them, where?, no one knows.
Holly loves to romp in fresh fallen snow.
Her happy dark eyes just twinkle and glow.
Her cute black face is covered like frosting
While chasing a rabbit she's accosting .
She has a good canine friend named Jessie.
Holly and Jesse's paws get quite messy.
After their long frisky walk in the park
Holly gets tired from her Christmas lark.
When dinner completes her desire,
She loves to keep cozy by our log fire.
Holly is content with pats on her head,
Then snuggles to sleep at foot of my bed.
12-18-17
Christmas Story Contest
Sponsor Eve Roper
*This is a tribute to a very good friend's two dogs,
Holly and Jessie, who reside in England.
Merry Christmas to everyone!
Categories:
romp, adventure, christmas, dog, snow,
Form:
Couplet
Beware the morning tiger
Before his first coffee
Look out for the afternoon lizard:
Ectotherm on the sidewalk soaking in other people’s acknowledgement
On occasion I’m a hummingbird
Seeking life’s nectar while shying away from human contact
Sometimes I’m a dolphin
Smiling and dancing in the waves
Last week I felt like a beaver
Getupgotoworkdomyworkgotobedgetupgotoworkdomyworkgotobed
(do beavers even have beds?)
Whatever happened to the puppy
Who would romp exuberantly through the day
Eventually collapsing in utterly exhausted joy?
Be wary of the electric eel
Who will zap you if you get too close
Look at the proudly preening peacock
Hoping somebody will notice me
Occasionally I’m a jackrabbit
Always on my guard, ready to run away from conflict
At times I’m a giraffe
Able to rise above the dust of the day
This week I was a worker bee putting in a day’s work
Happy to let the Queen be in charge
Whatever else I may be, I feel like a White Rhino
Older, wiser, stronger, endangered
My spirit animal is a zoo
…or a puppy
Categories:
romp, animal, tiger,
Form:
Free verse
With my brightened lens, I watch you
mystically zooming in zooming out,
and my eyes focus on the shutter where
a hundred gulls flap in brief moments: carefully,
I seize the image, almost lost in transition
as my rushed stanzas etch
the language of your distinct angles.
Following your trail, I chance upon
a lattice of asters sprawled on pine wood
grating my line of phrases:
flowers posing without shame, beautiful like
summer ‘s shape...and I watch you romp
in the blur of rain clicking on a Kodak chrome;
while my quill explodes with the burst
of your animated snapshots. My dear,
in this symbiotic flow where poetry and visual arts
understand the hidden grandeur of the world,
shall this my verse meld with your splashed landscape?
....................
August Premiere Contest for Brian Strand
Categories:
romp, art, beauty, film, words,
Form:
Imagism
The look of pity on the saleswoman's face said it all
my paint spattered clothing, however the jeans fit
just didn't have that panache, chic pizazz, tongue hanging
inspiration for desire a young woman out to have.
The car dealer took one look at me, led me to the far
corner of the lot, showed me the used hot rods
the beater four doors, the budget cutters like I'd rode
but I wanted glossy black, silver hood ornament, brand new.
Paint is supposed to sit on top of your nails, but underneath
is advantageous when compared to oil, to muck, to dirty guts
so I was a step on the ladder of the working man,
I could even afford to buy hose, which I still don't wear.
There's something to be said for the over glasses, safety
glasses look, white paper coat, something comical
one supposes, but the purple overalls worn for skiing
which suddenly I could afford, made me my nephews joke.
At times I waited for a date who preferred the bar
called and said maybe later, because passion rumbled
between us when we kissed but I didn't want a flit,
disease, broken promise, I wanted to be embraced
Cozy now, body motion are promises and content
passion is beyond me, the bar on the patio in back
the hand I always hold a missing app that answers
more lonely than any mistaken wish that he'd be the one.
Stars, too, I climbed to them in my dream, climbed
the Space Needle and found my self with no safety net
I always avoided those climbs the dreams more nightmare
even though I do what I am told, to reach, to soar.
Sometimes now I wear black on gold dresses which fit
to the nth inch, so I can barely sit, hold champagne
to watch golden bubbles float against the elegant
white linen against starry night event, that's rich, success.
Dump it gladly for a romp on the beach, the missing
something like threads through a woven maze,
like an angel's hope. When I dump it all and seek
there's grace lying on the shores between the rocks
a pooled place where deer come to lick minerals,
boulders come unglued and sail down river
and think, maybe I could do that. Maybe I could
unglue all the expectations and rearrange the world.
Categories:
romp, absence, adventure, dream, fun,
Form:
Quatrain
Cotton candy clouds at sunset
Star lit skies at darkest night
Yellow moons in the heaven
My hand in yours held tight .
Small verdant hands that say hello
To creatures great and small
God’s gentle breath stirring them
Until their time to fall .
Ladybugs and lightening bugs
Inch worms here and there
Wooly bears and wondrous things
Our time to watch, so rare.
And in the blue, birds call and coo
Looking for their mate
They soar, they spy, they swoop, then say
Fly home, the day is late.
But not for us we say with joy
Our time has just begun
We walk, we dream, we speak of life
And all the things we’ve done.
While in the quiet of the night
The rabbits romp and play
For a moment silent and still
Our love to last, I pray.
Behold the wonders near and far
Keep them in your heart
The simple pleasures we have shared
From these we shall not part.
Categories:
romp, blessing, emotions, romantic love,
Form:
Rhyme
"Uncircumnavigated"
Just Around the Corner ...
How did you write
your way
into my story?
A Wolf
and
a Fox
Blitzkrieg.
The rompers
romp in…
This is unprecedented, unwanted,
Silence is Golden
I walk to the beach
and back breathless
cool
you;
me,
debating always debating
internal
within
the uncircumnavigated tracks,
feral white rabbit
marks his mark
Clocks His time
in
Time
the city skyline,
recalcitrant, shading, delicious
Light in Dark Night
winks back
ridiculously knowing
winks back
How did you write
your way
into my story?
When I had already written
keys and locks into
the Chinese Puzzle Box
locked
locked
locked
and then,
unheralded
inconsequential
YOU
bourgeois
gauche calculating intellect
breeze in…
Hornet bites
honey bee
Gold
dribbling
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2019)
"When" / Elysian Fields
Categories:
romp, adventure, romance, word play,
Form:
Romanticism
She is a lifeline in the blue-black of days
Curled on my lap, her sausage form rolls
All over the bed ... without guilt, without care;
Weenie girl Snickers likes to frolic
In dim of night as my tiredness kicks in,
And I would fondly grant a regalement
To hide seek among boxes, messed closets
While those almond eyes peer kindly
Much like watchful gazes as I leave by dawn:
My tiny keeper-- we would romp, laugh wildly
Along Saturday fields...our picnic hideaway
Her limbs guiding me from thorns of work's fatigue.
~
Lavish mealtimes, Snicks would evade
She grew weak though paws jumped around
Clinging tighter, sweeter than dachsund licks;
Then... on fateful one noon, she simply heaved her last
Wink of dachshund eyes locked upon mine ,
The rain tears tapping, d r i f t i n g on my bosom --
Reveries of us brought raw pain, immeasurable joy
You, not a heartbeat far from my soul
That I rocked you where our Saturday fields rested. Ever.
) *
))
All Dogs Go To Heaven Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France 8/19/2020
Categories:
romp, devotion, dog,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Come to my boudoir Cheri
I am here all for thee
In red and lace
I shall entangle you will love
Entice you with lust
Tease you till desires run dry
You shall be the knight who rides my thigh
In the bonny highlands we shall have our romp
Meadows and fields of summer scent and breeze
I shall wrap you in my honey warmth
Mine, all mine you will be
Wrapped, entwined around my wee finger
Enslaved with love
My love
You belong all to me
Categories:
romp, allusion, art, beauty, history,
Form:
Light Verse
If I ruled the world I'd paint it mostly blue,
Spiders would build the finest webs - I'd decree the morning dew,
Auroras would shimmer above the poles, their colors ringing true,
Those would follow my first thought, "Good grief! What will I do?"
Puppies would be off to run and romp, kittens added to the chases,
Mountains, deserts and oceans - set down in law as special places,
The red kite's ride, the jaguar's stride, moon and trees within their races,
The sable's fur, the cheetah's purr, we'd acknowledge such given graces,
And I'd praise the honored beauty in elderly people's faces.
Wind would dance across the sand, long waves would come ashore,
Unfair rebukes and tactical nukes - do we need this stuff anymore?
Graceful herds would move around the Serengeti plain,
I'd reach across the ocean, try to lessen my good friend's pain.
I'd find the key to hardened hearts,
To quell our many tribal wars,
Diplomatic smarts and peaceful arts,
Those things I'd underscore.
No more homeless, evermore - from that they would be free,
(I'd live with the skepticism that we could ever all agree.)
I'd want to know all the poets, every poet that can be,
To never miss the poetry, it's in every soul, you see.
24 February 2017
Categories:
romp, humanity, love, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh how this bodice is dressed in taffeta,
Lined with hundreds of lavender pleats
Spiraling, drooping, whirling
All over my voluptuous contour …
Bare these limbs grinding on soft moss
To tap among rustled displays
From many a lovers’ heat to children’s romp.
I gaze at my long tresses hung by threads
Of July frills, combing the strands
Delicate as clusters in a spin that ignites
The evening air, the lush of daylight’s vine…
And like Kojin in a free-fall prance, I cascade
Through a mantle of grass, my arms floating
Over wisps of mildest pink, of boldest lavender;
Then to curtsy in a prayerful Shinto bow
Under heaven's marquee where my chants
about lonesome tales are hushed in secrecy.
At nightfall, stars circle my lit frame,
The aroma of wisteria's mint huffs
outside my pores and unto an earthy glow;
Young the nippled buds swelling in lusty dusk
Till I gently writhe as a mystical shadow of the woods.
......................
SPRINGTIME STANDARD CONTEST
~ The wisteria tree is packed with an assemblage
of purple blossoms, falling in tapered clusters
to symbolize a kneeling pose of honor and devotion
based on Asian folklore.
~ Kojin: Japanese Tree Goddess
Categories:
romp, beauty, imagery, tree,
Form:
Personification
There was a little dog one day,
Who ambled on his aimless way.
He didn't have a house or home:
A doggy bed or fine meat bone.
His coat was mats and full of fleas.
He owned no boy to try and please.
Near garbage bin was where he sat,
Along with one sad, homeless cat.
His human threw him out you see.
This person wasn't you or me.
For we would never be so cruel,
Or act like some poor, heartless fool.
The winter came and with it cold.
Dog's airy ways were put on hold.
He shivered in the dark of night:
A sad, pathetic, needy sight.
And then a storm blew in with snow.
It left dog with no place to go.
He sat and whined beside the road,
For someone kind to lift his load.
Then came a car -- slow passing by.
A young boy warm and loved inside.
He saw the freezing, half grown pup
And begged they stop and pick him up.
The winter passed and next the spring.
Now please behold a wondrous thing.
A boy and dog romp on the grass.
All mats and fleas now in the past.
It's joy and love and fun we see.
The way that God meant it should be.
Both run and play, all pain now past;
This bond of dog and boy shall last.
The sad thing is allotted time
Of man and dog will just not rhyme.
The boy will know sad loss of friend,
Long years before his own sure end.
Then in a time that's yet to be,
They'll reunite both young and free.
Forever will their bond go on,
In timeless sunsets, countless dawns.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
Categories:
romp, abuse, child, dog, first
Form:
Narrative