Bobbling Poems | Examples

Will-o’-the-Wisp

The furtive idea, flares ghost-ignited, 
in a fevered yellow-blue glimmer,
on the edge of sight,
just out of reach,
beckoning you towards it.
Pirouetting, bobbling and whirling,
above the sodden, choking, black mire
of mundane, numbed and stale thoughts.

You draw near,
It slips away.
Crawl closer.
It slings away.
Try to snatch a side-ways glance—
It dissolves,
like a phantom mirage.
But this will-o'-the-wisp—
this alluring fiery gas spirit
is undeniably real.

It’s not an illusion,
but a seductive snare,
a promise left dangling, festering, unmet,
until cornered, captured, 
shattered and scorched,
torn, beyond recognition
by the ruthless pursuit,
in the reek of the marsh-fume ooze,
before dusk, devours the day.

It's All Up in the Air

I'm juggling confetti balloons,
Floating a wayward, up in the air,
Falling wherever, when they will,
Begging my cares to be ever still.

I’m the ringmaster of chaos.
Rid'n a tightrope chair.
Poised on tippy-toe, piqué.
About to lose an arm 'n leg.

My heart beats a drum roll,
To dare the cast-of-die fanfare,
To begin before its begun,
Before I've got the hang of
Juggling these bobbling balloons.

I’m dancing with gravity’s strings.
I've lost my weightless things.
They've fallen all around my wings.
With my hopes slip-sliding away,
like confetti spaghetti, al denté.

Bobbing for Planets

Dip 'em in caramelized honey or gummies
Without it, they taste kinda funny and runny
A Carnivale only for bobblehead gods
A barrel of laughs for the rest of us clods
That are blubbering bobbling bobbers bobbing 
For corn-on-the-cob

Altering Nominative cases

Motivated by Lilibet Wallpaper

"Chickens will do." And a pause
"For another yard of georgette linens too."
And every capped reasons opened at last,
as a stair, for a stare, to ask about the rear,
"What about the full cotton fabrics or Chinese poplin?"
And impeccable time smiled on me, " Rather, this should be bobbling, that is inevitable."
"Ed good, this is still an issue room for mending.
Are you in?"
"Precisely! Exactly for what?" I heard. 
"Is it the hall room? Or the ballroom?" I asked. 
"It seemed a courtroom though." I heard my question answered, seemingly, in a bit startled voice.
"Nope. It is not a room, It is a table salt, tied to a prayer, that gifts the container, the neon, and the utility, and God willing, the next day we are expected to find the room." After a while, the assurance delivered.
"Though shawl thee!" I intervened.
"let's go home! Shall we?"

An empty closet and cliffhanger

An empty closet and cliffhanger
A gift to little George,
A member of Windsor Castle.

Mood, over mindfulness , 
They are riverine songs
Moody, churned up
Uncertain and floral
Rejoicing whence
The turbid and morbid
Glum and glee
And a morn and
A corn
These all are

Cosmos and a cosmic

Emotions are changing textures
Where these all are
Changing surface 
On an eggplant
The purple surface 
Soothes 
Where the goosebump
Of the green begins

A goosebump and a texture

An empty closet are lonely wool, woolen warmth
Yesterday and a bobbling
Runs along, unsung
Over boards the present, 
Tense and I 
All infuses and surges
To surmise
Greetings again
Hungover a softer sky
And a  luminous, chandelier 

Even though an uneven sky.

Brain Washed

If only I could wash my brain 

My mind would be so clean 

Then certainly I would be so sane 

And no way to be mean 

I’d scrub away all the pain I had 

Scrub away all the bad hair days 

I'd scrub away, scrub away, scrub away 

All the awful news that’s bad and sad

With soap-on-a-rope I-be-no-dope 

With bubbles bobbling from my pot 

With suds I’d be your bud 

I’d change the world with a single thot 

Never again would my head get hot 

And everyone would think like me . . . NOT! 

Yet everyone everywhere started to just have fun 

No more head games, no more games that are lame

Just play, dance, and sing has a good ring   to live by 

Grow Money Trees where money were leaves 

And everything purchased was for free 

My head’s full of cotton candy rainbow dreams 

I wish for the impossible possible plea 

“Wake Up!” is what I’d scream

From this dream within a dream 

"Let’s all wash our brains from the same river stream. "

A Woman in a Pale Green Dress

A woman in a pale green dress 
On a pier, with her handbag  
Tide is going to progress
Waves roll faster, lowered flag
Slightly quivers on the wind
Someone orders the high tea  
A lifeline wasn’t firmly pinned
Now it’s bobbling in the sea
Sunlight weakens, sky gets grayer
Waiters with their trays go by,
Serving reasons for a prayer
But one's memory won’t try  
Then you bend, over the table,
Smiling, whispering in my ear 
And a horn blows, I’m unable 
Your sweet joking words to hear.

Sunflowers

sunflower heads bobbling
the earth opens her blue sky
to rejoice sight

Blunder Sin - a Didactic Cinquain

Blunder Sin - A Didactic Cinquain

Blunder
Egregious, inexcusable
Bobbling, gaffing, lapsing
Ever so inexcusable
Sin


2/24/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2021

Winter Winds

I love the winter chilling winds
that swings with long nights and short day plays,
feeling warm under the woollen jackets and blankets
having hot tea with the treat of whispering shivers,
when the day blooms,
dewdrops glitter on the petals of lovely flowers,
These are the long nights that make magics with shining stars,
whitey fog tries to stop the bobbling headlights of cars,
I feel the dance of droplets on the window panes
a campfire on the ground with tiny wooden pieces 
rubbing my freezing palms,
feeling the copious fire,
listening soothing cracking sound around my bound,
my body craves to touch the rays of the sun,
I go on a walk with my cute little dog in that thick white fog,
I write my name on a glass pane,
haaa voooooo ,,huh huu,,
shivering,,, shivering..!
 it's the rhythm from my mouth,
waiting for the sun for mirth.

The Stream of Life

Mostly I sit on the banks reflecting on its power.
Will I ever dare its careening currents
that seem to so casually bounce from rock to shore?

I dip a toe in now and then.
Yet fear follows me, constantly confining the natural flow
pulling me toward its darkened depths.

I have on occasion
jumped into the waters
bobbling, sinking, rising
tossing within the currents.

The ride was ferociously frightening
	     intense
                  Chilling
                       liberating.

But tortured and bruised
I seek the healing soil of land
before I toss myself again
into the beckoning, frolicking force
          	of life
	            of love
	                 of destiny.

Sailing With Winds That Blew On Blue

Defrocked yachts on moorings in the bay
Pull at tethers like dogs yearning for a walk
The ruffled blue waters, rippling white glary glints
Sea of sparkles, gentle tiny flashing lights like town twinkling at night.

Listen closely as the bobbling yachts creak, groan, rock and lilt
Whispering and murmuring sea shanties to each other.
Hoist the main, unfurl the jib
Drop the mooring rope, unleash the boat to sail.

Horses loves to run, sailboats loves to sail
Straining, heeling over, yielding to wind
But contriving to trick the wind to grab its power
To drive the yacht forward through the sea.

The waves are sliced through, and surface waters parted
As the sailboat flings delightfully forward
Relishing the sail, frolicking with crew
Sailing free on true blue waters 
With true and steady winds, that blew and blew on blue all day.

Born To Lilt, Laughter Inbred

Luck 'tis said lies bobbling in Guinness head
The more you savor, the more luck you spread
With songs, banter, tales and jokes
Better done by Irish folks
Born to lilt a story, laughter inbred.

Mothers Pearls

Mother’s Pearls

Pure pearls bobbling along, huge,
Mum wants me each day to wear, 
Dance gear in grandmother’s day, 
Conversation here is psychiatrical, 
The pearl is a sequence suggestive, 
Of society’s progress of modernity: 
Even the pearls don’t want to be worn.

Bobble Heads

I watch all the bobble heads,
as they whiz on by,
through, around, under and over
leaping in giant strides.

Not a care for the others, 
just push on by, stuck in the reality they call their lives. 
Not a smile for miles bobble heads just bobbing along, 
scattered in every direction like the four winds.

I cant help wonder why they conform,
to a society that make them unhappy, yet still carry on 
bobbling each day in dismay, 
caught in the movements, a symphony of waves.

Everywhere you look on any given day
you'll see all the bobble heads flowing off the trains,
forcing their way through, off to work they go, 
with all their heads bobbling, bobbling in tune.

M.Mahauariki © 2010

• Short Bobbling Poems
• Famous Bobbling Poems
• Best Bobbling Poems
• Read Bobbling Poems
• Long Bobbling Poems
• Bobbling Quotes