Long Frisking Poems
Long Frisking Poems. Below are the most popular long Frisking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frisking poems by poem length and keyword.
(ALLITERATION)
Cows milked: mitigated mooing in the meadows then
Weaving on the warp, some workaholic women
Harvest of hapless halibuts on hooks
Bookish book-worms buried in books
A palomino and a pony patter on the paving
Hucksters and hawkers hawking every housing.
Ravers out on the razzle raising a raucous razz-ma-tazz
Beavers busy building beaver-dams but about it quite blasé.
Doves cooing in divine chorus
Frogs frisking out of focus
Horoscopes are hocus pocus.
Tidal waves of tsunami treacherously tread
Sea-anemones scattered upon the sea-bed.
Geraniums genuflecting in jungle-like gardens
Hunters wary of wandering wild-life wardens.
All this when I ventured about videotaping
Nature's much nicer even with no landscaping
These are direly different scenes from different parts of the globe
Perhaps like a space probe's kaleidoscopic poetic probe
( this poem has every letter of the alphabet except x)
POTD 23 Mar 2024
THE PATH WELL TRAVELLED.
Two paths diverged, and I was thrown by doubts I had never known
To my left, thickly overgrown, was a path to dismal dimness prone.
To my right, a lovely sight-fragrant flora flamed in light
Forms so graceful, beauty rare, a wonderous vision beyond compare.
Both seduced with equal right, torn was I between dark and light.
Resisting limits of time and sight, a liminal border of cosmic might.
Hesitancy rapt with fear and doubt, the pondering heart beat aloud.
Tempting was the path so grand, but instinct cautioned of a treacherous hand.
A feathery touch, a breeze stirred, and in its sigh, a voice I heard.
Was it Hecate who whispered?
"Take heed. Beware, for each path leads to a different lair."
Crystal clarity knew what I must do, and with a heart filled with valour true,
Joyously, I strode wild and free down the well-trodden path ahead of me.
The leaves, like frisking lovers, played as I embarked my chosen way.
Future paths ~ So many dreams ~ Each a thread in life's grand scheme.
Though true discovery lay in paths, I'd roam ~
The one well travelled always led back Home.
By Maria Williams ©
Greeks worshipped Hecate as a guardian and gatekeeper who could ward off evil forces. She is often represented carrying a torch and a key and standing on the liminal border between one place and another. She bears three heads and always has a dog by her side.
Inspired by Robert Frost's 'The Road Not Taken', I chose to write an alternative version.
'The Road Not Taken' is one of Robert Frost's most famous poems. It's natural and understandable that many readers take the poem to be Frost's statement of individualism as a poet: he will take 'the road less travelled'.
The metaphor of the road is one that immediately evokes a journey, not just of the local or day-to-day kind, but of the life-defining sort: life as a journey, with many roads which we must travel along, and with many alternative paths which we must choose between.
POTD 23 March 2024
Written: September 21, 2023
Immanent yet transcendent Contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
God is both fully transcendent and utterly immanent – extensively beyond us but genuinely with us. By Poet.
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In a realm where lucid dreams spring alive.
Where the whispers to the cosmos derive
There lingers a dance—divine and bright.
Of immanent and transcendent eternal flight.
One's essence is intrinsic, or immanent.
It starts with every breath—cease is imminent.
No vitality can be razed, hence being infinite.
Every grass blade or hazard tear is then intimate.
Transcendent, preposterous afar and wide,
Beyond the circumscription of earthly stride,
Soaring through the cosmos, stars in its wake,
A cosmic symphony, a celestial shake
In this sempiternal dance, they entwine,
Immanent and transcendent, a union divine,
Akin to yin and yang, they equipoise and sway.
Prevailing us on our journey, day after day.
A soft breeze carries the imminent susurration of life.
We're fiddling with our souls and frisking our strife.
children's squealing in an accomplice's embrace.
Immanent imbues us with beauty, love, and grace.
Transcendent calls in the depths of a scarlet sky,
Heaving us hovering to the heavens up high,
In the grandeur of nature, in a sunrise hue,
Transcendent shows us there's plenteous anew.
Immanent and transcendent, a cosmic pair,
In the prance of life, are everlastingly there,
In the depths of our animus, they reside.
Wielding us in a woebegone, wondrous ride
Immanent, the divine within our reach,
Transcendent, the infinite beyond our speech,
Together, they weave the tapestry of existence.
In their dance, we find purpose and significance.
immanent and transcendent, a harmonious blend,
In each moment of their presence, we apprehend,
They remind us that we are a crux of kernel grand.
A universal symphony, a seraphic chaste band
So prance with immanent and transcendent,
Embrace the blithe and beguilement; be besant.
On the wisdom they offer, the love they bestow,
In their gyre and gambol, our souls shall grow.
The nation sprawls, prostrate:
broken limbs, crumbling bodies;
valley of vultures,
cloud of flies,
frisking scavengers.
Victory throws a party for ghosts;
a once boisterous land—
now a silhouette of what was:
a land of the dancing dead.
The victor towers over rubbles,
wearing rueful impish glee.
He stands, stern, gaunt as death,
tightlipped; grim irony on a face
pondering the weight of victory
as soot settles after an inferno,
soothing the pain of death
paling the pants for life.
Civilization without humanity;
blood turns muddy,
red puddle, and bricks—
homes for ghosts
in a land once of the living.
© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi
TINY FACE SMILING AT,
REFLECT THE MIRROR.
SHE WENT TO CORN FIELD,
SILVER CORNS SANG LULLABY TO HER MERRY!
SHE WEARED THE FLOWER'S HAT,
THE MIRROR'S BEAUTY BEAUTIFUL.
ONE MORN, SHE PUT ON A WHITE GOWN,
SNOW WHITE QUEEN IN ME, MIRROR AMAZING!
SHE SUNG A DREAM SONG,
STRAWBERRYS SPRING FALL INTO HER BASKET.
SMOOTH FINGERS WEAVING WREATH,
FRISKING BEADS CAME INTO THE RIVER.
SHE PREFERED FOR DOLLARYE FEST,
PEARL AS LITTLE HEART EXPECTING WITH ZEAL!
IN THAT DAWN, HER ROSY LIPS HUM,
MIRROR BLOOMING FOR LITTLE BLOSSOM.
UNRIVALLED BEAUTY STEPPING SLOW,
PURE KISS TOUCH UPON, BYE FROM MIRROR.
STAR DOLLS CIRCLED SNOW WHITE MOON!
INEVITABLE HOUR! TERRIFYING GUN SHOTS!!!
MANY DOLLS SLEEPING IN SILENT.
CRIMSON HOARFROST COVERED SNOW WHITE BEAT.
A LONELY MIRROR,
WAITING SNOW WHITE ARRIVAL!!!!!!
The puppies in Petunia Patch are pinching pumpkins today!
We wild ones ran down the road, yelling Hip! Hip! Hip! Hooray!
October sun was streaming down making the afternoon quite gay.
We laughed and jumped and whirled and twirled; it was a great day!
Which puppies do you think will show this time? Asked my Uncle Zeb.
The happiest, sparkle spaniels of course, said my eager cousin Ned.
We chased and laughed and ran amok, as we headed toward the field.
The puppies were frolicking and frisking; one held a pumpkin shield.
It is the Husky King! The Doberman gasped; he was amazed tis true.
The rest of the puppies barely noticed, tossing pumpkins as they grew.
Pumpkins landed with a splat, and the baby dogs howled their delight.
Grandmas brought pumpkin pudding, which lasted through the night.
The terrier puppies began to settle in, lollygagging in a giant pile.
These clumps of fat puppies made even the dourest of us smile.
Next year let’s bring the kitties in too, an eager fellow promptly said.
It was my cousin Twinbite two, who is as silly as Cousin Ned.
Written By: D. Collins 4/9/2018
The New York feds came in kicking in doors.
Frisking, then putting them down on the floor.
Snatching evidence and just about everything.
It just doesn't look good, from what I am seeing.
The "Fixer" got "Fixed" by the U.S. Attorney.
Trump quickly realized he may see a jury.
When did a raid become an "attack on the country?"
When will we learn where they hid the Russian money?
They both know what's coming. Some orange jumpsuits.
A date with "Big Bubba" and the widening of chutes.
The "Fixer" got "Fixed" so he will be no more.
And, Trump has now become a casualty of war.
Oh, the stress-free, carefree world of children
O' take me back to the lil kids' playpen
When we tried on mom's cosmetics and lipsticks
and built playhouses with plastic blocks and bricks
And had fun with cooking set picnics
Anything could be a toy
and our racket could annoy
We turned everything into play things
We played pretend queens and kings
We then played 'mom and dad'
Oh the squealing fun we had!
Teasing, chasing hens and kittens
climbing the grumpy neighbour's fence.
There was paper airplanes
and frisking in the rains
Paper boats too were made
and hide'n'seek was played
And when that wasn't enough
we played blind man's bluff.
We nimbly climbed the trees
hair flailing in the breeze
But our child's play naturally mimicked the grownups
Lil plastic ones instead of real porcelain cups.
Life was all play and games
in our growing mental frames.
Sand castles and kites
childish fights and frights!
And kind parents just let them frisk and play
for all work and no play makes one a dull boy
Is there a view?
In a rotten bed by the window
Where the crow sits all by itself
Every morning and inspects the wasteland
Surrounding the edifice,
That once sheltered my wounded soul,
My mother
And no one else...
The vista of a forgotten life
Stood in front of me like a dead construction.
Exposed bricks, molested window panes
Cried hollow: The screams
Got lost in the shadowed hallway,
Rumbling the staircase;
Scaring the odd dried leaves
That made through one naive autumn..
I see the youth in me
Frisking through the kitchen;
Hugging abruptly like an insecure child
An absorbed mother in cooking,
A kiss on the cheek,
And i was pledged happiness for eternity.
The vision sways away
Its swept under the rug of my crooked,
Bruised soul, that had seen and felt
The days' sorrow
The door is ajar, and
It is upset..
The disappointment in my betrayal
The bereavement in my indulgence..
The crow looks at me with astonishment:
I wished i was there when
My house was raped.