Lithely Poems | Examples

By the tree

There I stood where the smell of ancient oaken trees ran cleanly clear through the time honored wood only to be hung there lithely clinging unto the very breath we could not do anything but hold… as it became to be beholden to none it seemed to be tied to the polarized tenacity of the moss which thereby us clung in comical yet musical strands around the worm ridden bark a foray of bird’s voices were at play as though bells it rung from trunk to leaf to feathery beak again and again beneath the sound of our breathless breathes being trapped as deeply as time alone dared too…and so these hearts our hearts were then flung along this very same path until we two all to soon swelled with passionate wales only be quelled to surrender to the silence surrounding us…our eyes then welled upon swollen lids only to calm again peacefully longing to bathe in those deepest feelings and upon those very wishes each sound filled thought were caught then sprung free to ride the very same wish to a crescendoed volley down into our hearts to rest in and about our smiles that gloriously magical day...

Beautiful

O' winsome, mirthful thing 
Up, up, and out in spring

From the cocoon, you were birthed
Into the light is where you'll see your worth 

A beautiful creation to the world 
A bundle of magic that's waiting to unfurl 

Now, out fluttering and uttering a new beginning 
A fresh essence and energy brimming

Lithely through the air you go
Fluttering  and darting to and fro

A quiet power and a mutable essence, you behold 
Remember this as you allow your truth to be told

So beautiful one, make sure to enjoy your flight
For soon, oh too soon, winter will come and bid a good night

Moonbeams

Awash in the moonlight
She moves lithely, a sight
to behold, her hair free, 
Flowing black like the night, 

Graceful as she can be, 
Arms raised, spinning in glee, 
Till the moon frames her face, 
Hiding behind a tree, 

Moonbeams gently embrace
her as she's giving chase
to soft, dappled shadows, 
 Rays of light, she can trace, 

'Neath the Luna, time slows, 
Hushed, her silhouette glows
as she circles back home, 
Moon-rays seem to enclose, 

Under the starry dome, 
She always loves to roam, 
She is simply struck by
selenophile syndrome.

Lackluster Shellacking

Feeling sluggish, shelled.
Lithely lingering in the dust and grime.
Palette grey and dull, devoid of crisp bright hues,
Brushes all furry, frayed, blunt, incapable of fine detail.
Apathy and complacency palls to gloom and doom in my room.
Inactivity and being non-committal, chokes the creative urge, to be stillborn.
But then, words and poetry flood into the brain during sleepless nights.
There's no stopping it. 
Its spell, dispels the squashes, and quells the squishes to splats.

Summer Night, Linger On Shore

The rocks were warm, hard, embers
of the summer day sun.
The air was calm, balmy, thick and syrupy.
The sea a mirror, shimmering with 
gentle sky sparkles and glints.
The girl entered the scene so serenely.
She removed her hat devotedly, 
to take it all in, 
lithely lingering on the shore.
She became a willing partner,
a participant in the
textural contrasts
of the scene with gentle
white dress caressing
over the rocks so gently.
Her demeanor and blank face expressed
the peacefulness, tranquility and solitude
of the scene,
so welcoming
and engrossing.

Melancholy Melody

tenuous strands 
lithely tethering 
the soul to reality... 
strummed unevenly 
by life 

sharp notes 
compose  
a subtle dirge 
of mournful 
ambivalence 

14 May 2023

Beyond Reach

Virtue clothed in a circle of rainbow 
Innocent, she dances towards the sun
Blessed with youth and beauty and character
Gentle as the zephyr that kisses her hair
Yearning for golden joys and happiness
Observing natural goodness and kindness
Radiant, she glows like the sunrays that bathe her

Gracefully following the trail in the forest glade
Intriguing everyone around by her sincere purity
Resolute, she will not stop at any obstacles
Lovely, lithely waltzing like a dream, beyond reach. 




22nd December 2022

Contest: Beyond Reach
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose

Nymph of the Night

She danced under milky moonlight,
Lithely swaying to starry strains,
Twirling like a nymph of the night;

He watched her waltz - a graceful sight,
Heeding no decorum constrains,
She danced under milky moonlight;

In the shadows, it seemed just right
That she would set alight the plains,
Twirling like a nymph of the night;

Stopping his heart took all his might,
As it raced to her without reins,
She danced under milky moonlight;

She knew he was watching, her knight,
To impress him, she took all pains,
Twirling like a nymph of the night;

He joined her dance, what a delight!
Holding his hands without restrains,
She danced under milky moonlight,
Twirling like a nymph of the night.





12th November 2022



For L Milton Hankins' "Third-person Villanelle" contest

A Fantasy Affair

One day I wandered to a meadow where
nature’s springtime was beyond compare,
for lovely flowers I saw dancing there
in May’s breeze, and fragrant was the air.

A woman swayed among the blossoms unaware
that I – a stranger – was entranced and could not bear
to turn away, so I crouched down low that I might stare
at this lass who lithely twirled and her face so fair!

Yellow daisies decorated her long hair
which shone like gold in sun’s dawning glare.
Her essence was that of someone with no care.
Alas! She spotted me. I’d given her a scare.

As she fled, I felt a sort of strange despair,
for the ending of an all-to-brief fantasy affair!

The Faithful Oak

I planted out an oak tree
One hundred years ago;
I saw her fed and watered,
I watched her lithely grow.
I watched her through the winter wild
Frosted, frore and dark.
I watched her as the summer sunburn
Baked her golden bark.

My friend the ardent oak tree
Drew me by the hand;
Her strength an inspiration,
She taught me how to stand.
Amidst the savage blizzard
She learned to bow and bend;
Resisting stormful battles,
Triumphant in the end.

Now an aged oak tree,
Her wisdom with me resting,
She, towering tall, majestic
Withstanding nature's testing.
Her arms suffuse, embracing,
She beckoned me with pride;
I laid me down within her shroud
And neath her sanctum died.

Summer Time

summer has arrived

as lithely as kittens' feet

hopeful days ahead

(June 28, 2021)

Hawk In the Sun

A shadow runs across a meadow
a hawk above me on a cloudless day.
A high prescience
for a moment
overhanging a far heaven.

It is not stooping or diving,
not reaching or snatching,
it is not bent to the wind like an arrow,
nor hunting.

When Goshawks hunt
they trace small circles,
seeking a rustle and bustle,
tell-tale signs of scurry.

For now it is not compelled or held
by any thought or sight,
lithely it sails,
nonchalantly counting coup,
jousting with the sun on lancing wings.

A raptor cleaving its authority.
Swift winged conqueror!
An ascendency unmatched
by anything else this day.

The Good Old Days

Twirling around the glossy smooth floor
Racing with friends on roller-skates
Tossing my hair as I glide across the room
Feeling so certain that this is my destiny

Weaving through the crowd lithely, swiftly
Smiling at everyone, my heart filled with laughter
Lighting the entire room with the heartfelt joy
Discovered in this place where I owned elation

Bending and looping through the noisy rink
Listening to the tender voice of Bob Segar or
Possibly, AC/DC – Lynyrd Skynyrd or some
Other rock n’ roll group who teens revered

Whirling through the gathering of adolescents
My heart was filled with hope that I would find
The chosen one, the boy who I was sure of
A dream of mine, who read all those love stories

Twisting and turning to the sound of Meatloaf’s voice
My heart raced with delight when I saw him smiling
The one I knew would be for me, forever and always
Going down in history… nowadays, I kiss him each morning!







The Good Old Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
January 9, 2021

A Love Supreme

Entwined incense and jazz
Smooth lover beauty in sax
Molten golden notes dance
Caressing mind in trance
Deepening tones bloom
Body’s whispers soothe
Smoke clouds kiss petals
Glistening glass freckles
Essence affixed to honey skin
Vines twist and gently spin
Breaths whispers in misty air
Trickling on bosoms bare
Captivating aura in rhythm
Lips hums flow with precision
Evening lost within senses
Closing hazel glazed lenses
Curves lithely sway free
Sunset curls musical breeze
Heart and notes in perfect collision
Reed and vibrations in full fusion
Woodwinds grip swiveling hips
Immersed deep intoxicating bliss

Colored Wolf, Legends of the Wolves

Should I, mere a rabbit of sand, shiny hair,
sport a shock of fur mired in clay,
they from gofer mounds, propped on to peer, would sound warning
through the sun glades and sleep grotto shades.

“A pall fellow lights whereupon we here graze.
See ye lithely to him yield path.
He in bone pastel smocks with such likeness to bare
plodeth sloughs dank, decay’s fell morass.”

“This chap’s marks are slurred, kindred ‘s smudged,” they’ll say,
“in a mud that is not of our warren.
He looks sullied by drear earthen labyrinths far ‘way,
perhaps fox hole, cat hovel, or den of wolves’ coven.”

For when foul skies do strike, marring trees with their curses,
rains fall to douse scintillate branches.
A pungency hovers where a torrid sludge cools.
Its paste casts forbidden clan hues.

Now the wolf craves not easily his like or lean.
He is wary of ghouls in his ranks.
“Gaunt swagger, I see,” he’ll think,
“This one leave be, who with me, shares the gore and the grisly.”

For in drab sheens to drape, shall the countenance daunt.
Browns besmirched will, in ashes, urge, “Yay,
it is he colored wolf.” In airs Lupus, I’ll steep,
strutting meekness purged, brave in cloak gray.

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