Best Romping Poems
There’s a howling in the air tonight
A baying at the moon
For the hound is running free again
And his voice has joined the tune
Of a thousand other voices
That echo through the years
And a certain blue-tick calling
– She’s calling through my tears
They’re in the backwoods running now
Like in a younger age
Baying on the trail with joy
As they did just yesterday
With their feet, like wings, a'flying
As they gulp the happy air
Wild-eyed little maniacs
Without a worldly care!
Do you hear them now, my darling?
Do you see them in the fields
The sun upon their shadows, the wind
Blowing through their ears?
As you know you’ll always see them
And hear them from afar
Romping through the atmosphere
From star to shining star
Now they pause in listening silence
As if they seem to sense
The presence of our memories
In the near but distant past –
For their memories, as such they keep
Are as near as mine today
Which holds them still, while still I weep
For my hounds of yesterday –
Categories:
romping, dog, loss, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
Christmas Eve Mystery
The sun had set, and it was Christmas Eve.
Dear Santa finished up and packed the sleigh;
made sure his Reindeer were geared up to go
before they'd have some time outside to play.
Now it was time to go to North Pole Park,
for there they'd snack on greens below the snow,
and run and prance to loosen up their legs
for galloping through space 'neath moonlit glow.
There, Santa rested on his favored bench;
'tween nodding, saw them romping everywhere.
However, Rudolph proudly stood on guard
beside him watching with protective care.
But soon enough, except for one, they'd fled;
whichever way they looked, none to be found!
Rudolph and Santa surely seemed upset...
yelled out each name in hopes they'd come around.
Before long, darkness fell upon the park.
Did Santa's deer come back to join the team?
Yes...every precious gift arrived on time.
'Twas only Santa's 'forty winks' bad dream!
December 10, 2018
For the Contest, "The Park Bench At Christmas",
sponsored by Sara Kendrick, based on Picture #3
Categories:
romping, christmas, mystery,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
The Little Dog ( Scotty )
I’m only a small female
Little legs you see
The other two are huge
Males big pawed and hairy
Great tongues lolling
But they protect me
They are nice to me
I’m only small
The human is a giant !
If I look straight ahead
I can only see the shins
And while the other two are off
Galloping and romping
I am trotting behind
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
I think the human is male
He must be
As I feel so drawn to it
And its kind hands
And kind eyes
He must be male
I am female
I know these things
I love to go out walking
The human he takes us all
All three !
I have to skip over boulders
Which to them are just pebbles
And sometimes all of them
Have to wait for me patiently
Little legs with little paws you see
I love them all
Especially the human
And especially when he feeds me
Even more when he tickles my tummy
Do you know he built a little house for me
Just for me
I curl up on pillows at night
Nice warm and cozy
So because I love him
And even though I am rather small
I growl and bark
When he needs protecting
And I can see him smiling
So I know I am being a good girl
The human has a “ H U G E ” kennel
So big a dog could get lost in
And when he returns from being gone
He always lets us in
But never up those little floors
Which go to the place he uses for sleeping
Never mind
I am content
Like the other two
To curl on the soft fluffy bit of the floor
And wait dozing
Occasionally sniffing about
The place food is kept in
Till the time comes
For us all to go out walking
And then I can barely contain myself
In jumps and circles
While the other two are whimpering and whining
Time for them to go off running, snuffling and playing
While behind I follow
Steadily trotting
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
Categories:
romping, funny, petsdog, dog, love,
Form:
Free verse
Fire breathing, ash streaming dragons stomping,
Across the landscape are ruthlessly romping;
Clanging, banging, with metal feet shodden,
Bushes and plants slash, flowers downtrodden.
Across the landscape are ruthlessly romping;
Iron beasts with jaws and tails heavily clomping,
Bushes and plants slash, flowers downtrodden,
Until clay into red mud is smashed and sodden!
Iron beasts with jaws and tails heavily clomping,
Great ditches riven with incessant chomping,
Until clay into red mud is smashed and sodden,
These monsters make way for all things modern.
Great ditches riven with incessant chomping,
Clanging, banging, with metal feet shodden,
These monsters make way for all things modern:
Fire breathing, ash streaming dragons stomping!
Categories:
romping, science fiction, urban,
Form:
Pantoum
Come, let's go to the lake!
It's Spring and I am your
dove-in-waiting to take.
The dogs all out romping in
the freshly-contented grass.
I will listen to your Poetry and
give you no sass!
Two poetic souls bound as
newborn ones.
Wrapped in Spring grass and
warmed by the benevolent sun.
3/25/2021
~2~
Categories:
romping, community, imagery, poets, spring,
Form:
Couplet
Yesterday the birthday girl,
Her rainbow tutu swishing,
Blew out (with brother's help) the candles
Lit for birthday wishing.
From playground, train and parachute,
The 4 year olds were romping
Until the time for pizza came,
With juice and lots of chomping.
Today the celebration was
Just slightly more subdued,
Though with stories told and mem'ries shared
With fun it was imbued.
The birthday girl, at 91,
Enjoyed a home-cooked meal,
Drank gin and tonics then blew out
Her candles with some zeal.
Two birthday bashes back to back
On both ends of life's arc,
Let me have a double helping
Of what such a day can spark.
Categories:
romping, birthday,
Form:
Rhyme
I miss you already, Buddy.
You’ve been the apple of my eye.
When I think of life without you,
It makes me cry. It makes me cry.
Oh, so many moments we've shared together,
From romping mischief and tummy rubs to those pesky fleas;
And nothing’s better than my puppy’s kiss;
You always try your very best to please.
You always curl up with me on the bed.
You always meet me at the door.
You run and jump and bark with such excitement.
Yes, Buddy, I know you couldn’t love me more.
And when all others fail me, Buddy,
My best friend is always there.
Through my very worst of times,
Your eyes and your attention said, “I care”.
Five to seven years for every one of mine
Is so little time... it’s hardly fair.
It must be God’s way of saying,
“Love them now… and well.
There’s precious little time to spare”.
But, if I should go before you, Buddy,
Love your new master without reserve;
And they will love you as you love them.
It’s what a great pup like you deserves.
I miss you already, Buddy.
You’ve been the apple of my eye.
Categories:
romping, animal, bereavement, best friend,
Form:
Rhyme
On Snow Shovelling
A foot of snow fell by night
With no let-up in sight.
(“Brrr, it’s cold out there.”)–
A mutt rebounds past my window,
As I contemplate the morning weather,
While sipping my hot cup of coffee.
By the street-lamp’s hazy glow,
I make out my neighbour:
Clad in a scarf, tuque, and parka,
With a winter implement
Grasped in her mitten covered hands,
Bravely confronting the heart attack weather,
And tossing snow over her shoulders,
To clear the driveway from garage to curb
For the mechanical beast to enter
The unplowed street.
She stops and calls to the mutt.
(No doubt, an excuse to catch her breath.)
The dog, tail wagging, rushes to his master;
Who brushes the snow from his fur;
And I venture to guess,—an “Atta-boy!”—
As if the dog had accomplished
Some great endeavour.
But, they both seem to derive pleasure
From the brief encounter.
The Master resumes her shovelling,
And the mutt to his romping,
And I to thinking
While sipping my hot cup of coffee;—
I too will have to face the inclement weather:
Clad in a scarf, tuque, and parka,
And commit to the task of snow shovelling.
Categories:
romping, humor, snow, weather, winter,
Form:
Verse
Kissed by the sun, sweet alfalfa in waving oceans that
Animals adore when dried into golden hay.
Noon breaks enjoying lunch under an ancient oak with
Songs from the wayward wind for company.
A tire swing hanging in wait for school to be out
Shares mem’ries of new born calves romping in the meadows.
Each wonderful season in Kansas holds an enchanted delight,
But heavenly scented lilacs in spring time let my soul take flight.
Categories:
romping, life, places,
Form:
Acrostic
"Intimate Inspirations"
the beauty of Nature inspires my quill
the lovely mystique' of Creation, my will
to compose lines, amazing, to share with my peers
and welcome sweet critique', as insights appear.
the smile of a child; the love of my life
commits my vast gift to ease another's strife
as the song of the nightengale offers soft glow
enchanting deep thoughts from beneath and below.
the sweetness of puppies romping on grassy ground
the pitter-patter of kittens, meowing, astound
elements of Earth and residents of Sky
inspire my soul as tears cascade each eye.
watching waves crest as they kiss sandy shores
the beach is my haven, to ponder encores
of poetic art captivating and free
these intimate treasures ever inspire me.
*For Patricia Ellis's You Are My Inspiration Contest.
Categories:
romping, on writing and words,
Form:
Rhyme
Conditionally,
“unconditional”
comes with its
vast conditions,
don’t you agree?
we invest our love,
and all of ourselves
into the adoration
and dissection
of all forms
of muses,
who will,
or will not
be found
swimming amused
in each others'
minds,
in each others'
poetry;
we are a muse
ourselves, egregious
to the rules of iambic
and other rigid romping
rhythms and rites
to be righted,
that we daily play
dodgeball with ardently,
it's like ducking from
incoming magpies
guarding their nests,
circling their
small-worldly boundaries,
establishing their tiny
very tight territories,
they fly in at us hard
with their sharp beaks
and their spit, they assert
they are allied with the best,
those well informed
highly schooled scribes,
who largely mistaken in mind,
dunk others less than less, and wait
for the curs'ed to float,
but in the sinking
those curs'ed
drowned muses,
in that terrible
horrendous misfortune,
tied to their dunking chairs,
eyes now wide open,
find diamonds
at the bottom of
their damned pond,
as they swiftly pass
schools of wayward fish
with no clear direction in mind,
and other monsters
pulling out hearts
with their pre-prehistoric
saber-toothed grins;
hellelujah for those
who bespoke for you
freeverse from the ego
within the heart -
it’s the mind that cuts
without hesitation,
draws lines in the sand,
limiting us to couplets
in greeting cards
sans ampersand,
conditionally
"unconditional";
the curs'ed
eventually wake
and they rise,
spilling tea
stirring
sugar 'n spice
into the bland,
who eventually
open their eyes
and their minds,
unconditionally
“conditional”
sans ampersand
heart
mind
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Categories:
romping, poets, satire, society,
Form:
Free verse
Donkey in the farm, strong hoofs romping
Wonky when you charm, long spoofs hooting
Donkey standing as you stare, shy when you dare
Teeth grinning as you glare, dry when you blare
Sweet and gentle that sire, donkey of your eye
Lifeguard under fire, wise and clean with your lye
Categories:
romping, animal, farm, funny,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
‘There shall be a poetess born,
Ensouled with poetic leanings….’
She cried, pulled from her watery world
breathing in the alien air….
The years and seasons came and went,
and found the muse alone at play
amid her native dimensions,
romping free and singing verses:
^- ^- ^- - wall
^- ^- ^- - fall...
Her tender years end with a pause.
…Adulthood dawned brightly on her,
a comely grace and pleasing face.
Like a fledgling that leaves its nest
She, resolved, flew a flight west
with assistance of providence….
The years passed bye when she'd returned
With a masters degree she earned
And prophecy preserved in print-
her personal anthology.
Today she’s known for civic pride
reading poems to hometown ears
of life’s lessons contained inside
amassed from long, meaningful years.
Categories:
romping, inspirational,
Form:
Verse
Spenserian sonnet
To Trundle Beach we turn to find our fun
with fam'ly on vacation ev'ry June.
Relaxing, romping, ready for some sun,
we traipse the trails with youngsters before noon
then nestle down for babys' naptime croon.
We find the time for each of our four boys,
yet treasure time alone, a honeymoon.
It's tough adjusting to the constant noise.
When adolescents share their digi-toys
we feel our age; they show us how to text.
No way we can compete with cyber joys.
We've pondered year by year, "What can come next?"
When June has passed and gone, we beg for rest
with mixed emotions, we leave Trundle blessed.
April 2, 2012
Categories:
romping, adventure, family, holiday, time,
Form:
Sonnet
Thanksgiving beckons,yet letters are piled
mostly bills due, nearing a month’s round…
I think of the homeless with nothing to eat ,
reflecting on a newborn, draped in the cold.
While pressure burns of how dues overflow;
this season’s rune of faith carries me through
as if unknowns of the day are but brief,
content in sharing this flow of gratitude.
November ends… beside me, they are there;
family romping , neighbors bringing apple pies
till grace eases burdens which soften the load:
My soul kindles acceptance, my Thanksgiving joy;
that payments fold through lamp’s glitter …
and when this night awakens , I count small pleasures
ending day's tidings with a grateful sigh-
then to rest on my blessings , ever dear
on through weeks as chapel bells ring!
Any Season or Festive Verse
Brian Strand Contest
Categories:
romping, christmas, meaningful,
Form:
Imagism