Long Rollick Poems
Long Rollick Poems. Below are the most popular long Rollick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rollick poems by poem length and keyword.
poet, you called me?
oh no - that’s not I ...
there's truly just ONE
he writes ‘pon the sky
of sunsets and stars
of space without end
with bold dazzling ink
from a masterful pen
rhymes of dust devils
cloud anvils and rains
mists from the moors
or wind-tickled plains
meadows a-blooming
or snow-crusted peaks
odes made for sunrise
with blush on its cheek
a green flash, auroras
the comets and moon
intense constellations
that rollick and swoon
bright, stabbing bolts
to pierce a night’s sky
huge, spiraling storms
with a sun in their eye
the sonnets He writes
are authentic and true
surpassing the greatest
my words can construe
and yet every-so-often
He’ll bless this old fool
to impart me the grace
and make me … His tool
so, I'd love to take credit
but I must keep in sight
that I'm just an aged pen
with which He may write
thus, I might seem poetic
for the tales that I've spun
but regarding TRUE poets
there's really ... just ...
ONE.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, May 6, 2024 (rewrite)
Marceau leans on air.
His ethereal stage, a muse.
Walls and limits come and go.
Rubber, his body
knowing what it wants.
His muscle’s tale born
in luster under polished light.
Each spectator becomes a believer,
each observer willingly accepts,
how hands make intangible dimensions,
how legs scale vaporous stairways.
You should never ask what they saw.
This myth maker made by
his allegory.
This illusion maker made by
his parable.
The converts so silent in
their seats.
The stage of rollick,
while viewers undergo the idyllic.
He ends
knowing each convert summoned their
symbolic order.
He ends
relying on collective unconsciousness.
He finishes
aware his act exists
only in the mind
of each beholder.
Hard not to love Dylan Thomas’s tall tales
Each gloomy day may just tip those scales
Sends you off the rails when all else fails
Dilly dally schoolboys get cat of nine tails
Go doolally rally in the valley hard as nails
Don't cuss no faff or fuss for us Taff males
Knew along with a fair few Cymru crew's hue
Shared view that no where else has in spades
Cascades of so many gloriously grey shades
Dylan boozy villain mutters hip hop hooray
Gusts bluster beneath his sails on his travails
Trooping way this colour can't be kept at bay
Muster bulbous tinted voluptuous glinted bales
Proudly ride loudly in the night on his coattails
Very fond of merry vagabond's beyond the pales
Hail the true Withnail's escapades made in Wales
Don't harangue pang for meringue gang at play
Not a gimmick pray clouds don't go away hold sway
Rollick then frolic & fossick.. a limerick for any day
Outdoor foray adore bucolic score kaleidoscopic GREY
Forever won’t understand those who can’t stand sand between spanned toes
Clever bands of hourglass strands slows & then through fanned hands flows
Whatever woes foes weather throws our duty never this beauty booty forgoes
Skilled kids build guild of silica Basilicas in a row the sea rids closes in overthrows
Waves then mow rave to & fro saline scarves pave new paths the ocean bestows
Commotion heightened emotions brightened notions enlightened its potion glows
Kaleidoscopic schools of iconic rock pools colours flock shock as almost tropic
Views & hues don’t falter just alter won't halter as an altar to ease those blues
Tidal tows doze then rose grows tease with unctuous but rambunctious blows
A beach can preach beseech as each single shingle does mingle in a stony knoll
Seaside stroll as sea gulls glide white caps roll & ride then a lull soothes the soul
Flattered Neptune’s role shattered shells scattered or is it Poseidon’s control
Webbed ranks of ebbed sandbanks lapped by lullabies our own private atoll
Thanks for phalanx of mirth & pranks from mother nature’s glimmering vaults
Shimmering seals leave their berth heave their girth then those crests do surf
Dolphins fins spin big grins senses halts & assaults with immense somersaults
What riffs could be a good as being stood in a neighbourhood of driftwood
Whiffs of whimsy as swells rollick for shells we fossick our elemental tonic
Cliffs adorn scars of scorn by time foreshore gentry stands sentry well worn
Don't mourn as from dawn till dusk forlorn foresworn somehow feel reborn
Sniffs sublime seaweed frolic fish like stars sunbeams & daydreams bucolic
INTERLUDE
Sun is down leaving its crown .
Twilight fades, dusty dusk frowns !
Me drowned in your charms.
Wished to take you in my arms.
I pressed my lips to thee.
You feigned to flee from me,
yet clinging too close.
Gorgeous gibbous Moon rose.
Our choice to rejoice :
Prelude of night musing to voice.
Eve merges to turquoise night.
Moonlit starry sky brilliant bright.
Thrilled hearts twirled entwined tight.
Symphony slips to Interlude in delight.
Rollick couple in frolic steps of rigadoon.
witnessed by majestic mystic Moon.
Bubbling blood to flow in flood
To resist is too hard !
Ardent ardour under night sky..
Dreamy dormant desires free to fly.
Passionate flow in astral radiance.
Amorous urge in rhythmic cadence.
Mellifluous melody enchanted night in solitude.
Music of lavender love rippling in Interlude.
Come Halloween! O Halloween!
We hide in the shadows no longer.
For this is our time to revel and rollick
in the fast-slipping twilight
and don the cloaks of hallowed ones
who have journeyed before us
at the end of the harvest
and the thinning of the veils
between the Otherworld and ours
that shake the souls and frighten the hearts
of those unwilling to welcome the night
in which the sacrosanct and profane
duel unrelentless in their unseen and spiritual bouts
from minute to hour, from door to door
from field to forest, from fire to ashes
stirred by the wind and pummeled by the rain
until all is melded and finally dissolved
into the darkest dark of the night
without stars, without moon
without the flicker of candles
lit over and over against the blackness of space
fearing the knock on the door, the rattle of the window
the shaking of the floor, the shadows on the wall,
the tingle on the flesh, the creaking of the stairs
the rap on the table, the howl of the unknown
the sound of voices whispering ethereal words
that echo like ripples on a hidden stream in a hidden dale
beyond the reach of all who await the approaching dusk
to revel and rollick and don the cloaks
at the end of the harvest and the thinning of the veils
when we do say, Come Halloween! O Halloween!
Rolling with the "R's" Sponsor: Nette Onclaud 8-4-25 Title Chosen: Rhythm of the River
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rhythm of the River
River
Rhythms boogie
Rollick in white waters
Ebbs then flows around mica rocks
That sparkle with alluring fool's gold
Arabesques over waterfalls
Tumbling mists ~ lacy veils
Pulsing ~ dancing
River
Bucolic frolic or supersonic & demonic
Alcoholic demands in the stands vitriolic
Iconic rollick or quite simply HEADonic
England so shambolic at fans’ behest
So chronic plans for a Baz Ball inquest
Ironic still curious why the rest are furious
Spurious contest they know which way’s best
Histrionic tease they jest please don’t be a pest
Scorn who’ve worn the Lions crest on their chest
Suggest fire’s the ire…ferocity of pomposity detest
Tire of dire quagmire but we’re blessed with a zest fest
Everyone complains about the vain inane campaigns
Disdain of the stain of their refrain just won’t restrain
Pain again explain is plain what does pertain to a Test
Ashes conquest no longer a contest our own Everest
We frown they clown around go to town double down
How very dare you review from your pew not impressed
We guessed they quickly confessed only one way remains
We’re profane..they’re insane our hopes down the drains
They insult with this cult as Baz Ball without Brains reigns.
Eggs, candies, bunnies, pastels, decors, chocolates,
Brunches, desserts, and white lilies with ice droplets;
Wearing clothes, church-going, wish parading, dining,
Doesn't Easter seem like newer events designing...?
With hullabaloo of festive fun and frolic,
The day dawns and goes down with euphoric rollick;
At almost near the brink of sleepy dizziness,
With rays of muse hearts will fall into encumber:
The history-mystery mix of those tough times,
The Pharisees and Sadducees, and their continued crimes;
The Jewish religion and the rude Roman laws,
All, to kill Jesus, tried ever, to find a cause...!
With the cruel sentence of carrying the cross,
The scourge, fall and rise, whip-thrash, and dignity loss;
His body was broken and his blood was poured out,
He trusted his father's will, yet, beyond all doubt...!
The tomb could not hold him, just like the mother's womb,
Graves opened erupting many a mercy flume;
Death, like a dead log or rock, is seen lying dead,
Life, like a lion leaps, let free of every thread...!
The defeat of death; the flow of fullness of life,
True human salvation, and sacrificial strife;
Forgiveness and freedom of the Father divine,
Easter is about newness - new skin and new wine
18 March 2023
Easter Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Rhyme Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllable Checked At: How Many Syllable
CONTESTS
Contests! We don’t need, No stinking Contest
Participants should get honored on competence.
Unbiased impartial judgement to present.
List of winners to get focused on magnificence.
I always enjoy poem submission
to feel contests as game to play and rollick
on my creation cum recreation
running joyous in fun and frolic.
Some truly talented poets as sponsors
judge blind, showing no special favor.
Those contests are fresh blooming flowers
flushing fragrance flaunting flavor.
Some contests choose winners within a selected circle
List of toppers showing quite oblivious
Rest cannot break glass-ceiling obstacle.
Those contests are stinking, ridiculous.
Contests should be judged honestly blind
Winners to be placed on merit not on choice.
So, stinking smell will not irritate behind.
Contests are nothing but clean games to rejoice.
07/22/18
' Contests! We Don't Need, No Stinking Contests' by John Lawless