Gamboling Poems | Examples

Fall On Your Knees

Crispy leaves shaded in whiskey and gold,   
gamboling never gets old.

Autumn Leaves

The floral foliage of Fall fuels my pen to flow
Nature's carmine carnage is a crimson condition to watch
Russet quills of the trees float down in myriad shades
Amber leaves levitating like flying embers
Auburn arrows gliding to meet the earth
Soft sepia smiles sent down from the Shepherd above
Burnished varnished tree-bits travelling back to the ground
Crumbling orange smidgens creating crunchy cracklings
Brown bracts brave enough to bed with the soil
Gamboge hues gamboling like golden glowing gems
Lurid leaflets leaving their last lucid legacy
Before they turn into les feuilles mortes

small things

sun …

glints off sweaty trickles as
they plop … plop …
little lad’s littler fingers tickling a
tide pool’s papery face
things of mysterious intention, darting
there to here to there …
wide eyes wider in amazement
tiny thrums quick’ning
dividing breaths
like swells divide the time
and tides …
a splash and a grasp, tightening
some small watery beast
cold-red cheeks blooming wide to
parody the dazzled bay
grins and giggles to mock the black-backs
for this shrimpy monster, squirming
is the prize of a wee fist
gamboling its way to
proffer some mad-mommy shrieks -
slimy and squiggly and
oh, so wondrous!
hunter, home from the hill
Ahab and his white sea demon
perfectly prideful,
invested surety of a silly smile
warmed by the sooty
afternoon …

sun.







Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 9, 2024

Sheep Valentine

My thinking has gone wooly since you caught my eye.
I even started ambling into the pig sty.

From all the sheep in the flock, you surely did stand out.
What a fine ram you are. Of that, there is no doubt.

I felt a little sheepish, but when you looked my way,
my heart was bleating for you not to stray.

Come gamboling with me. We can be a little baa-d
Sheer heaven it will be - best time you’ve ever had.

We’ll graze the greenest pastures and roll in clover too.
Just say that you’ll be mine, and I’ll be your dear ewe.

SHEEPSHAPE

SHEEPSHAPE

If not a ram then a sheep is a ewe
White and woolly, docile it’s true

One of many, as part of a herd
Clustered together, as preferred

Various strains are kept and bred
Unless taken for mutton instead

But there are several sheep breeds
Enough to fulfil lamb eaters’ needs

Sheep so unwanted in the wild west
They ate grass that made beef best

But lambs are cutest, as we know
Gamboling around, white as snow

So cuddly, and quite nice to hold
But not so much when they’re old

Wool is a raw material for clothes
Soft and fluffy as everyone knows

But wool can be spun into big balls
Remaining unsold until knitting calls

In Greece, sheep’s milk fares better
As there it is used for making Feta

One can even hear sheep from afar
But not so loud as to raise the baa

A Celestial Melody

Seraphic phlox in a falling fluorescent flicker
pixie dust was cloaked in a raucous, auspicious.
A leaf of the halo tree, a gem of an airy slicker
My soul is coated with quiet-luring narcissus.

Pixie dust was cloaked in a raucous, auspicious.
flung over stale chatter set in iridescent gloom.  .
My soul is coated with quiet-luring Narcissus,
cascading in a confluence of redolent doom.

Flung over stale chatter set in iridescent gloom, 
a gamboling glance at the yore library's courtyard.
Cascading in a confluence of redolent doom,
The spirit had shaped the wailing moon in this regard.

A gamboling glance at the yore library's courtyard,
My sentience was unorthodox and yearned to grow.
The spirit had shaped the wailing moon in this regard.
The aurora borealis swelled my sprouting glow.

My sentience was unorthodox and yearned to grow,
a leaf of the halo tree, a gem of an airy slicker.
The aurora borealis swelled my sprouting glow,
Seraphic phlox in a falling fluorescent flicker.

Written: November 25, 2022

Springtide Lamb

gamboling along -
springtide lamb, pure, snowy-white,
ebony ears & face
the frolic, precious; a kid
skipping with vivacity

10/11/2022

Foals

There are foals in the paddock.  
Long teetering legs, wobble, and bounce,
They explore my fence-leaning figure,
dash way.
Foals and their gamboling steps
are in my life again.
Later,
we will race the sun along this white fence
making golden shadows together.

The Pink Lady of Malibu

Though her life span was less than a week,
The Pink Lady of Malibu was a glorious sight, 
Never to be forgotten by anyone who was lucky enough to see her
The daring escapade spanned six months
Timing her final foray on the cliff to coincide with the full moon

On October 31st, 1966, seemingly overnight
there appeared on the sheer cliff wall 
above the Malibu Canyon tunnel 
a 60-foot-tall painting of a nude woman 
gamboling freely with her black hair flowing behind her 
and a fistful of yellow lilies

No one knew who had created this guerrilla artwork 
but scandalized Los Angeles County officials  
Fearing traffic congestion and looky-loo accidents  
They had decided she couldn't stay

House paint and a giant stencil to accomplish the artwork 
The paint had soaked into the porous rock 
Finding it impossible to remove her
The county ended up covering the Pink Lady in beige paint

Subtle Seduction

octobre slinks forth
        relinquishing heat-scorched earth ~
                salacious summer

enflamed leaves embracing
        dalliance with wilder winds ~
		erotic fall tryst

hoary trees exposed
        brazenly displayed bosom ~
                scandalous winter

new bulbs gamboling
         commoved carefree canoodling ~
		warm sassy spring

Wonderful World El

Please look after planet earth
cherish her for all she’s worth
Observe clouds in skies of blue,
cobwebs laced with morning dew
lambs gamboling in the fields 
beauty mother nature yields
Please look after planet earth!

Elemental Poetry Contest

Sponsored by Charles Messina

7 syllables per line checked with HMS

07/07/21

The Spider

A Spider sat both broad and fat
In a wake of morning dew.
Hoping a juicy fly would catch its eye...
But any old bug would do.

The Spider waited through the day
With nary a bug to eat.
Feeling low of ebb... it left its web
Looking for a treat.

The Spider crawled some distance...
With not a modicum of fear.
It was the King at hand of all these lands
But still no bugs appeared.

"I am the victim of my own success."
The Spider emphasized with glee.
"Is there no one there to chance compare
With someone great like me?"

The Spider wallowed in avarice narcissism
As it found something quite brand-new
Where its ravenous hunger abated
Now staring at the bottom of a... shoe.

"What is this?" The Spider wondered.
"It does provide a little shade.
How well and grand to understand
Such kindness to display."

The moment was a fleeting one
As good things tend to be.
And by and by... the Spider died...
On this we can agree.

But pity not our bold brave Spider
As there are lessons to construe
With people gamboling about like Spiders...
Just waiting for a shoe.

               The End

Irritable Vowel Syndrome

Emile’s set a poetry contest
in which the poet omits one vowel
It’s hard to write this exacting form
yet I will not throw in the towel!

So I’m tasked to write a poem
I’ve got myself into the groove
to try and write a brilliant ditty
and hope the sponsor will approve

I started a Shakespearian sonnet
and I grappled with the rhyme
My poem didn’t make any sense
badly penned work is a crime!

I threw away my first attempt
now I’ve grasped my silver pen
determined to enter the contest
alas, I’m devoid of ideas again

If I write of the spring season
and lambs gamboling in the field
With the mother ‘ewe’ watching them
my missing vowel can be revealed!

Hoping the poem can be removed from contest as U is not one of the permitted vowels

06/11/21

Spring Lambs

Fields
filled with
little lambs
wagging their tails,
gamboling around
on lush green grass
I adore
stunning
spring!


NA IN Spring Ninette Poetry Contest

123454321 checked on soup counter

Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger

04/06/21

Sensational Spring

Spring, a time for rejuvenation and rebirth. I’m always thrilled when winter’s white blanket lifts revealing tiny snowdrops, which crane their necks as they peep through the earth. I imagine I can hear the golden trumpets of dainty daffodils and jaunty jonquils heralding that spring is here. On my morning ramble I love to see the little newborn lambs gamboling about in the fields, and watch the blackbirds catching insects mid flight to feed their hungry chicks. 

new leaves unfurling
trees dressed in emerald green
buds ready to burst

Springtime Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by M L Kiser
03/11/21

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