Cavorts Poems | Examples

Quadrilew: My Anole

My anole’s brown;
Oops, now he’s changed to green!
What a little clown;
he’s nowhere to be seen.

Oops, now he’s changed to green,
says it calms him down.
So still and so serene,
doesn’t make a sound.

What a little clown;
he likes to make a scene.
He cavorts around
then dashes up the screen!

He’s nowhere to be seen:
camouflage renowned.
Slick as Vaseline:
I guess he went to town.

----------

Another Quadrilew, starting with 5/6/5/6 instead of 6/5/6/5

Delmore

Delmore Schwartz
T'was said, "He cavorts!"
A career much too short,
But still the greatest of poets!

A Poem Short

To craft a poem short,
one that cavorts,
holds court,
exhorts,
perhaps retorts
of sort
and not resort
to ***ort:
a sport
that does comport
in support
of a certain forte.


----------

H/T to Maurice Rigoler's The Art of the Short Poem

Fairy Houses

The Gardens* had some houses,
Teeny tiny ones they'd made,
Hidden next to pots of flowers
Quite adorably displayed.

Twigs and acorns, fruits and berries
Formed the roofs, the doors and walls 
Of these little homes just waiting 
'Til a neighbor fairy calls.

For they're known as fairy houses,
Meant to stir creative sorts
Needing outlets for their vision
Where the fairy world cavorts.

We spied not a single fairy
But loved spotting where they might,
After visitors have vanished,
At their tiny doors alight.

*Tower Hill Botanical Gardens in Massachusetts

Anthocyanin

Dancing upon the shifting crystal stage
The leaf is destined to dance the dance of the river
Aimlessly floating, turning, twirling

Its petiole dampened by the clear water
Washing over the cheerful green blade
Filtering through its veins

Exultant, is it not?
To be enraptured by the rhythm of the current
A journey so captivating and volatile

When all is transient, its colour is held
When all is uncertain, its colour is held
Applauding, the riverside grass flutters in the wind

When fortitude is as fabricated as a fairy tale
And emptiness as enduring as an epitaph
Anthocyanin arises

Drop by drop, dirtied by drab dye
Holding its colour, the leaf was beautiful
Corrupted, the leaf is free

Submitting to the sketch of the stream
The leaf cavorts, blade contorts
World distorts

Current gains speed
None can impede
The crystalline stampede

River churning
Violently turning
Of solace yearning

Embracing the call of the river, at the call of the land
Surrendering its identity
Will I still be "me" by the time I reach the sea?

Sir Punt Sighs

In baseball, a player may bunt
In football, a player may punt
But in bedroom sports
A lady cavorts
In a frantic search for a runt

Winter Shine

A rippling light beam tumbles, intriguingly 
Dreaming in coppered intensity 
And swirling loudly in glit·ter·y 
Whilst winter cavorts playfully

A Blushing Day

A fretful humble day murmurs, thoughtfully 
Midnight dives, harvest sun cavorts
With a delicate stirring through the weeds 
Squirming in rusted quality 

O' cold fall moves fiercely 
In shades of blood red in the fog 
The afore-winter moon pillars tauntingly
Whilst daylight beams the dance floor with accolades

The Fire Within

Taking the proffered ancient torch in hand
In Altamira, Santander and Lascaux
I am the fire, the flickering, burning brand
That leads the artists' hungering below.

Where forms of deer and bison billow in the dark
Etched in charcoal and berry-juice on the wall
The hunter like the artist pursues the mark
I rekindle to light this stone age carnival.

The dance of life cavorts to escape the savage crimson dart
Neighing snorting figures heart beating in the clay
For survival, skill and conquest, that is the caveman's art
And I the flame they carry within lighting the way.

Henceforth I become beacon of humanity,
Shining through memory and imagination
The light of liberty.

Winter End

This season spoils with orchestral splendor 
A cloud beams in irrepresible render
Spreading opulently past the stars
And raindrops fall from the sky jars

A crying ladybird groans tearfully 
Quailing with blackened fury
And hoping determinedly in delightful twists
As winter-end cavorts playfully in chilly mists

At the point, when the cool is gone, evermore
And skies do not dim anymore
Awaken me with the cries of feathered friends
When the warm twist blows toward me ascends

White Butterfly

The calm of day brings a tranquil presence.
So superficial, her existence hides in her tips of black.
      Lonesome she flies with reminding that life is to thrive.
Her point of ecstasy is alive to every circumstance she encounters.

Her tiny wings wave stealthily in craft.
      The art clandestinely takes my breath.
Reflections of her path are seen.
      A lost messenger whispers that this secluded place is where she exists.

She came from her vessel ready to take on the world.
      She flies with confidence “even in the face of error, 
for she known to ‘always’ search.”
      Her wings embrace the wind.

As she gleams under the twilight, metamorphosis begins.      
      In tune, for a change, her wings, 
which are in one place, onsets a hurricane in another.
      The white butterfly sashays, sways, cavorts in and out.
Her essence is her survival, which glorifies life.
__________________________________/
4/5/2014

A Season's Dance

Fall dances in with attitude,
Determined to have his way.
He's watching as Summer packs her bags,
Making sure she does not delay.

He begins at once to paint the leaves
Of  all the deciduous trees,
And mixes the paint so expertly,
His artistic side to please.

He cavorts in Summer's garden
And tosses the fading flowers.
He invites the wind to enter in
Along with some heavy showers.

He twists into every corner
Assuring nothing of Summer remains
Then dances a happy Irish jig 
To welcome the chilly rains.

The wind has reported on Winter,
Who is steadily coming this way,
So Fall dons his ballet slippers
As he pirouettes away.


By; Joyce Johnson
10/01/13

Nessie From Loch Ness

In the Land O' Scots nigh auld Iverness,

   Cavorts a lass named Nessie in Loch Ness!

      Is this sly dragon fer real,

         Er jes' an overgrown eel?

            We'll never know fer sure is my guess!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

World Economic Report, April, 2012

Fear feasts on our insides
And wrecks decision-making
Evil jumps in with glee
And another one loses trust

And another one down
And another one down
And another one loses trust

Evil grins
At what might have been
As another one loses trust

Housing fails
Markets, too
And countries follow suit

“Be afraid
Be very afraid”
Used to be a joke
But now it’s the match
That lights the glint
In Evil’s eye

Every day we’re fed
Too much detailed
 information
- Perhaps true;
Perhaps not -
With stated directives
To be
Very
Afraid


As Evil laughs
And Fear cavorts
Through our souls

With another one down
And another one down 
And another one loses trust

I will myself to turn off the media
Not to ignore the warnings;
But to avoid overexposure
To the cancer-causing
Smoking gun
Of fear




According to Article 37, Section 202 of the Code of Federal Regulation, the Congress states that “words and short phrases such as names, titles, and slogans; familiar symbols or designs; mere variations of typographic ornamentation, lettering or coloring; mere listing of ingredients or contents” are not copyrightable.
So thanks to John Deacon of Queen…

Cindys Butterfly

but in mind of eye butterfly cavorts and dies,
in another grub she does resort,
returns again her time is short,
so beautiful is the why,
she is part of the changing tapestry,
of the one creators eye.

thank you Baby lou

Don

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