Gambolling Poems

In One City

I know a funeral when I walk into one
I can tell between a funeral and a burial
They are two entirely different artworks
One is done on grand canvas, with drunken strokes
Of sashaying brush and bleeding paints;
The other is done on mere sand, with foot and hand,
Forming sandcastles built by toddlers.
I know too well because I have my senses
Intact after the last funeral I attended on a gambolling coast.
I should know because I participated in the burial of a
Village lout, a wretched lord, so grand with contumely.
Funeral lasts for days and contains the sounds of cannons
And other elements of ceremonies, so loud, so eloquent,
So ceremonious —full of man and illiterate beasts.
A burial, on the other penurious hand,
Reeks of haste, attended by a teething crowd —
And at times comes with thunder that speaks in jest
And a lightning whose light flickers on all things subpar.

Summer Nights

I recount the nights of faint, distant glows —
the dimmed party lights of summer —
of silenced streaks of fleeing light, tassels of clouds
adorned in fleeting whites,
on the broad balcony of the west, when the
incidents on the large vestibule of the sun sum up
their lives and times on seasons’ palimpsests.
The wild party closes by the stretch of the twenty-first hour.
Darkness, frightened, creeps in with the stealth of a departing thief,
the coyness and diffidence of an undocumented harlot.
Twilight aids the shut eyes of young irreverent bats;
drunk with summer's furiously spouting liquors,
like the denizens of an unclothed city, they fly low,
with gambolling wings, propelled by unseen strands of evening gales,
shadowing briefly the glints of pimping stars eager to witness the next day’s
orgy.

Stunning Spring Time

Spring
is here!
Little lambs
are gambolling
in verdant pastures.
Soon the white woolly ewes
let hungry offspring suckle.
I smile as the lamb's tails waggle
as they guzzle the nutritious milk
whilst the ever patient ewes munch fresh grass.
Golden daffodils and pretty tulips
add colour after dull winter days.
Striped bumble bees collect pollen
beautiful butterflies dance
in the warmth of the sun
Mother Nature gifts
the whole planet.
Stunning spring
I just
love!

Transcendence

Trapped in the open, free within
Spiralling thoughts makes our head spin
In time we lose all we hold dear
We’re burnt by desire, scarred by fear

Notice head and heart stand apart 
How then may bliss ignition start
Though God within us, is so near
We’re burnt by desire, scarred by fear

We can, if we choose, be now free
Gambolling on a joyous spree
But unless we lend love our ear
We’re burnt by desire, scarred by fear

In time as our sight becomes clear
We transcend both desire and fear

GAMBOLLING WITH THE SHEPHERDs CROOK

Gambolling along as ewe do, happy and carefree.
Ewe’d do it all over again, in the greening esprit.

Gambolling in full wool, unaware of morrow’s snip.
Ewe see only what is in fashion, not the future clip.

Gambolling with the Shepherd’s crook, behaving baa-dly.
Ewe do you, follow the sheepish crowd gladly.

Gambolling off a cliff, unless the one snatched from danger.
Ewe were there, curious and excited alongside the manger.

Gambolling strides bring you beside still waters and rest.
Ewe’re after risen sun, a greener pasture where ewe are blest.

MY FAVOURITE TIME

MY FAVOURITE TIME

We
first met
early spring,
ten years ago.
Lambs were gambolling,
cherry trees blossoming,
as I first set eyes on you.
And soon, with the passage of time,
Just like those trees, our love blossomed too.
So that’s why spring is my favourite time

LIFE'S A GAMBOL - THEN YOU DIE

LIFE’S A GAMBOL – THEN YOU DIE

I am a woolly little lamb.
That ewe’s my mum, my dad’s the ram.
Mum told me how that came to be
But it seemed a little rude to me.
Dad’s favourite song is by U2,
The one called “All I Want Is Ewe”
I’m always full of mischief, I like to run amok.
The shepherd always calls me the black sheep of the flock.
He even called the vet in to treat my strange affliction.
He quickly diagnosed it; I’ve a gambolling addiction.
I have to live life while I can; so please excuse my bleating.
For as you know, life for a lamb is always somewhat fleeting.
Whether I am good or bad, one thing is sure of course.
I know I’ll end up on your plate, smothered in mint sauce.

Prevalence of Predators

Sharks in the ocean, killer whales -
prevalence of predators in knee deep water,
all because men know better.
They, we - bring disaster to the shore,
to the salty, silty, haven
of children, couples, the old and young.

The fascination of jaws, rows of sharp teeth,
claws at our imaginations; not as lovely
a ride as a dolphin does bring; gladly
gambolling along with a friend.
Sharks bite, out for a midnight snack…
even in the sunny hours.

Back to the salty, silty, haven -
the vacation spot, vacated
or kept on the land, not
wanting to become surf and turf, not
wanting an arm or leg
to be separated in the foam,
in the thrill of the wave.

The wave washes onto the coconut beach.
Ebb and flow of romance.
Dark shadows, inviting
and dangerous. Riveting, breathless -
the tide is precipitous. Washed up,
a half-eaten board. Bored or not,
keep limbs on loungers, toes
out of the sea. Don’t tow the line.

6/14/2023

A Bit of a Kant

I would write you words that would make you smile
Of meadows and may flies and a love that lasted
I would sing songs of beauty that would you, beguile
If I weren’t such a miserable bastard.

And I’d paint with my words such wonderous things:
Summer ponds where the butterflies flit
And mountain streams fed by snow melting springs
If I weren’t such a grumpy old git.

In autumn I’d set down in ink of bright gold
The delights of a gambolling otter
Whose play would be there for you to behold
If I weren’t an irascible rotter.

Then in winter, I’d write about flurries of snow
Whipping round the wolf on the hunt
While we wrap ourselves warm by the embers’ bright glow
If I weren’t a cantankerous old so and so.

Haiku For Spring

HAIKU FOR SPRING

Spring is here once more
Is it time for sunny days?
No, April showers

New lambs in the field
Gambolling but not for long
Destined for our plates

Time for young men’s hearts
To turn to thought of loving
Where are all the girls

23rd April 2021
Spring Haiku Chain contest
Sponsor M L Kiser

Justice

JUSTICE  

Who has seen the abode of Justice? Where does she thrive and rest in solemnity, 
Reigning as chieftain, defying wickedness? 
Who knows the domain of Justice;
Where does she hold sway? 
Is she satisfied after a day in the Courts, Does her grey hairs inspire equity? 
Does Justice prowl the streets in authority, 
Does she find uprightness in the church? 

Have you heard them hail her, 
“Salute! To Justice, salute?” 
Have you seen her bronzed marks - 
On the limbs of the young, 
Or her wise-gray streaks 
On the hair of the old? 

Who has seen Justice gambolling? 
Is she jubilant on the dirt paths of the poor;
Those helpless ones called dispensable? 
Who has seen Justice crush the wicked, That conceited oppressor and tyrant? 

Show me Justice. 


- By Kirsten OKENWA. From Mss: POEMS ON VARIED SUBJECTS.

Spring Dh

Spring has sprung at last
Lambs gambolling free
New shoots fresh and green
Bulbs give birth to blooms
Daffs in all my rooms

My spirit soars
From winters gloom
Sun permeates
In every room

Skies of blue
Lots to do
Dreams anew

See friends
Find peace

Spring

Written: 29th March 2019
Contest: Diminished Hexaverse Contest About Spring
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger

2nd place

Contest May 2019 Premier 1
Sponsor Brian Strand

Spring Lambs

Lambs are born to enjoy life in the spring
Gambolling in meadows green
Joyous freedom sweet lambs

Written 21st March 2019

Contest: Writing Challenge 4, March 2019
Sponsor: Dear Heart
1st place

Contest: APRIL 2019 PREMIER,ANY THEME,ANY FORM,UPTO A MAX OF 3 LINES 
Sponsor: Brian Strand

Guardians

Gadwall ducks roam, and a
   gang of babies  f o l l o w,
      giggling, oh the jumble!
G l i d i n g  then on a pond.
    Gambolling squirrels  r o m p-
      Graceful trees shelter, and
graves  b e a u t i f u l  listen.

__________________
November 30, 2016

Poetry/Pleiades Verse/Guardians
Copyright Protected, ID 16-8541-14-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written Under Pseudonym.

Written for the contest, Pleiades G
sponsor, Kim Merryman

Third Place

May - the Month For Spring Blossoms

Much admired, long awaited,
A month of Spring celebrated
Yearly with colourful display.

The bursting blooms of May,
Hastening winter to go;
Erase memories of snow.

May will appear
On time, and make it clear
Nature knows when best
To emerge from seasonal rest.
Hopefully her appearance

Furthers the advance
Of winter’s demise.
Really, it’s no surprise

Spring can impact
People.  Some act
Riotously, as the sun
Incites them to have fun!
New lambs are seen
Gambolling. A scene,

Beloved everywhere. 
Love is in the air,
Once May arrives.
Soon new growth thrives:
Sunshine strengthens
Our resolve, as days lengthen.
May a month much anticipated:
Summer pleasures now awaited.

Rhymer.  May 1st, 2016.

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