Frolicked Poems

Capricorn rain

Across the great plain with sun sprinkled path
they frolicked with the golden buffalo clan.
Dodging black powder chaps along the way
they moved about strong and steady
like a necklace of runaway slaves.

They were cornered at trickster's cliff
guardian angels were on permanent hiatus. 
I guess it just wasn't a prosperous gig. 
Many leapt to their misty valley fate
a few dug in deep to a sacred place
black powder veiling proud- painted faces
within the last drumbeat of a Capricorn rain.

thrilled to see the hatred go

She was thrilled to be in the nightgown commercial
When the rain fell, the photographer said let’s not give up
She had no idea what this would mean to her career
She danced, frolicked and pretended to love the rain
Feeling like a fake, a poser, wondering when it would be over
The photographer kept snapping photos.
She was getting miffed.
It was cold water.
Difficult to pretend now.
The photo session was a huge success.
It launched her career.
She became a mega star, and was in high demand.
Her salary went from five figures to six figures.
She stopped resenting the photographer.
Glad to let go of the hatred, since they were married.

Fun day

               the red fox frolicked
         across the large open field
                  fun day on display

Heidi Sands

6/22/25

(C)opyright

Natures Pride - Choose a Line 3

"Lingering leaves of gold frolic / frolicked in the autumn wind" 
Quote by the sponsor


A crisp chill in the air, not being warmed by the sun. 
I hear rustling, a sure sign that autumn has begun.

"Lingering leaves of gold frolic / frolicked in the autumn wind"
My love of Autumn and its gold leaves will never rescind.

Green turning golden far and wide across the country side.
Autumn’s beauty is truly Mother nature’s glorious pride.

As tangerine and bright ochre leaves, gracefully dance,
The carpet they form as they come to rest will enhance.

The pleasure they bring floating through the crisp air,
A kaleidoscope of colour is forming most everywhere.

Tiny leaves joyfully twisting and turning to do an arabesque,
As if they are performing a choreographed seasonal quest.

As the Autumn wind strengthens the performance takes flight.
Leaves dashing and dancing and spiraling, it’s a wonderful sight.
 
Caught by a whirlwind, small leaves rise and flutter about.
Larger Autumn leaves soar as if with wings, not to be left out.

smell of joy

"There is a harmony in autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
which through the summer is not heard or seen, 
as if it could not be, as if it had not been!"
- Quote by Percy Bysshe Shelly
--------------------------------------------------------
"Lingering leaves of gold frolic
frolicked in the autumn wind"
humid air-dampened shy trees
start to shed slowly all
inhibited emerald green

Friendly few trees stand guard
taking in gawking stares
so does fallen leaves, naked nests
make those flying colors chill
all fresh souls blush deep

As leaved earth listens to wind
gleeful birds join symphony
elated critters crush leaves
create sweet musky smell of joy
captivating senses of breath

Once Summer Ends

pale scudding clouds turn sun less bright,
bikinis, no more, greet my eye,
and ice-cream shops stand shuttered tight,
fall's shorter days the reason why

bikinis, no more, greet my eye
where balls once volleyed at that net
while children frolicked wringing wet,

and ice-cream shops stand shuttered tight
because the boardwalk lacks its crowds
beneath these far-stretched, graying clouds,

fall's shorter days the reason why
a lonely, forlorn mood descends
here at the beach once summer ends

Dancing Duet - 2018

In the golden savannah, where wild creatures roam,
there danced a giraffe and rhino, a sight to behold.
With grace and power, they moved to the beat,
two unlikely spirits, their rhythmic steps entwined.

The giraffe, with elegance, stretched her neck high,
her spots like constellations, reaching for the heavens.
Beside her, the rhino’s massive form swayed,
his horn pointed proudly, a symbol of his might.

They frolicked, defying nature’s divide,
an unconventional pair, their souls met.
Together, a giraffe and rhino,
their differences embraced, a harmony untold.

With each graceful step and every thunderous stomp,
they painted a picture, a dance floor in the meadows.
Their movements whispered a tale of unity,
where diversity and love danced in perfect harmony.

In the gleaming sunset, they danced until the darkness,
giraffe and rhino, a duet shining bright.
Their dance became a legend, whispered through the evergreen,
of a bond unbreakable, forged by the gentle breeze.

Park Therapy

I saw two eastern tiger swallowtails today. 
I watched as they flickered, fluttered, and frolicked, rising and dipping. 
A calm breeze gently passed my way.
In the distance, a boy mirthfully turned and flipped.

A sanguine sun coyly peeked through tall pines and sweet gums.
Then a gentle voice came and caressed my ears. 
I savored sweet breaths as a bee crossed and hummed. 
And I heard, "Shhh! Hold on, I'm abating all troubles and banishing all fears."

did you see that

deer frolicked past the queen’s table
did you see that? She asked others
I did lied maiden named Mable
deer frolicked past the queen’s table
heading toward the lucky stable
horses worked by our six brothers
deer frolicked past the queen’s table
did you see that? She asked the others

IF ONLY YOU KNEW

Your sultry sensual look I still embrace
As I think of those mesmerizing violet eyes,
My heart then quickens and starts to race,
If only you knew what you still do to me.

Whose fault was it that sad sad night,
When you spoke those unjust words,
Was it meant for me to run away in fright,
If you only knew, how much I still love you.

Maybe it was me, or perhaps it was you began 
An argument that was bitter, that left me mad,
But  know that when you ran away, I also ran,
If you only knew that I could never forget you.

You dazzled me, with your graceful, swan like neck,
Frolicked with your cleavage, your creamy breasts,
Rising and falling, knowing I desired, needed you,
If only you knew that you were the soul of my heart.

I ran after you to catch you, but I was too late,
The rain was pouring you tripped, hit your head,
I picked up your lifeless body, it was your fate,
If only you knew your death was the end of me.

Written for Silent One's contest
However Not Entered as the stipulated number of poems was met.

Puff and Stuff

He puffed the magic dragon
Till he was ninety-three
And frolicked in a smoky mist
Beneath the ganja tree

With little pipes and papers
He loved to huff and puff
It made him think such silly things
And munch a bunch of stuff

All red-eyed he would travel
With puff deep in his pouch
To blaze a trail thru rain or hail
Or tatered on the couch

But then one day of sorrow
He could find no puff no more
And from then till the morrow
Was jonesing on the floor

Without his lifelong friend
He died lonely in his cave
Tho everyone that knew him
Laid sticky hops on his grave

Now he puffs the magic dragon
Above both you and me
And frolics in a smoky mist
Beneath the ganja tree

Mother Earth, the Sage

In the depth of the night, a concerto commenced,
With drums of thunder and a melody of rain.

Wind flutes played loud sniveling notes,
Carrying pulsating tunes in blustery tones.

Streaks of lightening, with their baton of light,
Led the blasting orchestra with dynamic might.

Trees swayed wildly, leaves scattered with force,
Rain soaked the paths, shattering dense shadows.

As dawn tiptoed, with the sun’s gentle caress,
Melodic whistles, cheeps and croaks took the stage.

Blue bonnets danced, greeting butterflies and bees,
Jays and cardinals capered under the radiant trees.

Hummingbirds frolicked around the buds of paintbrush, 
Grackles called out in an enthusiastic rush.

Scissor-tailed flycatchers hovered, tails unfurled,
Charmed their mates with their squeaks and chirrs.

Pinkladies and Firewheels in their spectacular array,
Welcomed the day, luring pollinators their way.

The storm disappeared, giving way to a tranquil zephyr,
Joyfulness prevailed, in awe of Mother Earth’s endeavor.

The Abandoned Sock

In the land of the laundry room, a mystery does reside,
Of the missing sock that vanished, leaving its mate behind.
Was it a daring escape, a sock rebellion in the night?
Or simply an accident, a case of sock flight?
The lonely sock sits abandoned without its partner near,
Hoping for a reunion, shedding a single tear.
It dreams of the days when they frolicked as a pair,
Now it’s all alone, feeling quite despair.
Perhaps the missing sock found a new calling in life,
As a puppet in a play, or a hat for a mouse quite nice,
Or maybe it’s just hiding, playing a sneaky game?
Laughing at the chaos it’s caused, adding to the fame.
Perhaps sent to a dimension that’s forbidden?
Did they form a gang, the odd sock brigade?
Taking over the laundry room, in a colorful charade?
But in the world of laundry, anything can occur,
So next time you do laundry, keep a vigilant eye,
For that missing sock may return, with a twinkle in its eye.
But until then, cherish the odd ones left behind,
For they add a touch of whimsy to your daily grind.

Final Note

Alone I sit upon this throne, alone I eat my meals.
The meat I have, the clothes I wear, the ring I bear reveals -
none in the land has such as I, none held in such regard.
Yet not a single one of them can comprehend how hard.

I do recall oh yes, the time when more like they I was.
We frolicked daily friends and I with no care but to pause,
and watch the clouds, and feel the sun, enjoying each new day.
But those are distant memories now, such times have passed away.

For each day’s now a scripted scene wherein I play my part.
I glitter when I walk, I flutter when I speak so as to win their hearts,
and stand as he who all look to and say, “wish I were him!”
Ha! Such a wish, and what end? Empty shell dressed imperially slim.

In death come morn, they’ll find me here.  In shock they’ll question why
the man who had the lion’s share would ever want to die.
No answer can I offer them, no, none that will suffice.
Treasure the things you cannot buy… a dying man’s advice.

		Richard Cory

The Murder of Cherry Creek Town

Sounds of a Day in the Past

Cherry Creek was a thriving small town
Children played on swings up and down.

They screamed with delight and why not?
Today with no school, so homework forgot.

How they laughed and frolicked and ran,
All cares forgotten, catch me if you can!

The swings were well-oiled and so no creaks
Could be heard, but happy they enjoyed their leaps.

Not far away, parents and singles formed a march
Protesting against chemical factory built beyond the arch. 

Sounds of a Day in the Present

Cherry Creek is now a ghost town
And all the rusted swings are down.

The chemist factory spoilt their fun.
Children in Cherry Town were none.

So many died from deadly fumes
All protests covered in all newsrooms.

But to no avail, for protests fell on dead ears.
Parents left to other places shedding tears.

The only sound you hear is the wind
No swing moved, empty all rust lined.

But I forgot the sound of money,
The factory simply insults me.

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