Long Spry Poems
Long Spry Poems. Below are the most popular long Spry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spry poems by poem length and keyword.
Vines in the spring of my life
were sturdy and spry. Utterly dependable,
they ran along the many parts of my body.
Able to cling to ligaments, tendons and muscles
with great connectivity,
they allowed me to walk, run, and jump with ease.
How wonderful was my pain-free youth!
Winter has arrived all too soon.
The vines down my spine have lost
some of their much-needed support.
With hardship now, they move toward
the joints of my left knee.
My vines in winter have me out of kilter.
No longer do they comfortably sprawl.
No more can I joyfully jump or dance.
Matching their apparent stagnation,
I still try my best to keep
c r e e p i n g a l o n g
longing for the days when
vines were green.
On mountain top high
Where delusions of grandeur fly
Superfluous pen grounded but spry
With ink stenciling the availing sky
Wispy clouds through portals do espy
The regal, azure fountain in scarab's eye
Golden beams vaporous plains do ply
With sultry steam airy canvas does dry
Jet stream's wistful currents solemnly sigh
As lingering, eerie presence of a train passed by
Descending to the valley low
Infused landscape portraits glow
Vicarious pen raised up on the gallows
To stitch tangible but fleeting shadow
Spindled meadows, with amber girth to hallow
Stinging nettles, thistles inlaid soft soles to harrow
Gilded Buttercups frill with radiant, golden bow
Alongside, faded Dandelion wheels dander strew
Beautiful, Monarch, sequin fans heated air bellows
Nearby, Great Black wasp pierces cricket with arrow
Sleep Baby Sleep
Little baby let me rock you to sleep
Angels will watch over you, do not weep
Visit places you've never seen before
Lots of adventures for you to explore.
Meet Dinosaurs, they have wings and can fly
They offer rides right up high in the sky
They're enormous and fly supersonic
Hold tight, they shoot off spry as a rocket.
You’ll be seeing stars with a bird’s eye view
And the man in the moon’s face, up close too
The Dinosaur will bring you safely home
And fly himself back to his aerodrome.
Dream of all things wonderful through the night
Awake in the morning refreshed and bright.
15th March 2021
Nursery Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
~ ** ~
Under a silver grin of moon, he shuffles past the tide,
His cane clicks like Morse code—C-A-N-E, not C-A-N-T—in stride.
Salt air tames his hair around the balding head, still stubbornly spry,
And in that tap-tap rhythm, a rogue star leaps in his eye.
Wave surf offers applause, gulls pretend they've never seen a groove this hot;
He nods a courtly greeting to a lady’s heart his steps have caught.
With a wink he tilts the cane—epinephrine meeting moonlight’s glow—
“Cane?you?feel?the?love?tonight?” echoes back from the seas below.
Eyes soft as driftwood meet trundling cane below waist:
He whispers jokes to moonlit foam, confessing past youthful haste.
He has hips once worth a dance card, now requires stabilizing support—
Still he swivels on one leg, as if each grain of sand were a court.
Seagulls halt their gossip, waves lean in for that sly wink,
Each embered foam-cap brims: they’d lunge for her if they could think.
He strides with a regal hush, the beach becomes ballroom and stage;
She laughs and claims her bosom warm, her pulse half his age.
He tips his cane like a top hat and makes low bows to her feet,
Promise lies in crooked wood, varnished, aged, yet resolutely sweet.
Moonlight carves their silhouettes, applause in each breaking wave—
Their love is not shiny youth; it’s the swagger of the brave.
In the midnight strolls, old man dancing with sticks and sea,
Love that leans on folly, memory, and one-second dignity.
Long after sand erases footprints and the tide forgets its rounds,
Your cane will still be tapping: “Can’t stop loving you,” it sounds.
I walk the path of life today
and think on days gone by.
When we were young, and bold
and free, and oh so very spry.
We knew so very little,
were anything but wise.
Hand in hand and heart to heart,
each with the other's prize.
We ached to heal each other
whene'er there seemed a wall.
Our love so deep, we saw ourselves
as Bogart and Bacall.
Now years have passed, we've grayed
and frayed the edges of our lives.
Raised sons up now and sent them off
to cherish their own wives.
And life moves on. We're in the Fall
when most our duties done.
The pace is much, much slower,
are days a setting sun?
I surely think, still lots to do,
to experience and to see.
More paths to walk, and challenges
to meet, and things to be.
I walk the path of life today
with miles and miles to go.
Our love still there, and oft' declare
it still continue grow.
To grow, for this I know.
.
Your
Tocsin
sibilating
Unrestrained
your spry
Taut
Ourn sage
played
curling
Into
twisted
lost
')
When Spring’s first touch is gently set
with Winter now scarcely a threat,
implore the ocean breezes spray
all cares and troubles far away.
With sweet caress of warmer days
and softness in the sunny haze,
carry me to pastoral thoughts
of my favorite nature spots.
Where flowers kiss the breeze that blows
and young ones run, too spry to pose,
transport me to refreshing moods,
where nature's calm, no one intrudes.
Such peace brushes my soul out here!
I lie still as Tender Hands steer
my notions to emotions pleased
and comfort me, turmoils are eased.
Form: Rhyme (8 syllables)
30th March 2023
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Don't dither, don't blither, don't sigh
Ask me how, ask me where, ask me why
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Dance airily, dance merrily, dance spry
Not warily, contrarily or sly
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Bedazzle, becharm, beautify
Do sparkle, do sizzle, do fly
Ask me how, ask me where, ask me why
Be gracious, vivacious, sagacious
Not voracious, rapacious or salacious
Don't be judgmental, tempermental or ungentle
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Don't shout, don't pout, don't cry
Tread lightly, tread brightly, glorify
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Ask me how, ask me where, ask me why
Once wild Iris was young
Lush and green next to the pond
She splashed and drank
Had her fun, warmed by the sun
Soon came time for her to settle down
She met Louis Tanna Iris that wore a crown
A crown of yellow, yes he wore
He wanted to marry and have more(Little Tanna)
Her wild ways was hard to tame
But the years began to wear her down
No longer was her hair of bronze
But mostly white shining in the sun
Louis Tanna came to a early demise
For his feet became way to dry
His leaves so healthy became yellow
Soon his crown no longer spry
This was the time that she did grieve
She did not even meet her daily needs
Of food, exercise, and her devotion prayer
Now wild Iris is totally Care (free)
A Leprechaun’s Christmas Dream
This story is of a spry little elf’s most sacred special ever dream;
His hope to work one day for Santa Claus on his North Pole team.
This tiny green man, a true Leprechaun with a funny and bold way;
Santa first saw this elf as he was flying his sleigh o’er him one day.
Another time fly’n o’er Ireland a day prior to Christmas Eve’s time,
Santa again saw this elf—a smil’n and a sing’n in best Irish rhyme!
The Leprechaun’s name was “Timothy” with such a cherubic face;
He could down three shots of stout-hard Irish Dew at a rapid pace!
Santa wanted such a wonderful Irish helper full of humor and fun,
Who could make kids laugh and smile with every story-told pun!
Timothy’s quaint green-eyed twinkle Santa saw, making him smile;
He knew Timothy would always work hard and go that extra mile!
For Timothy being an Irish elf didn’t always match his true self real;
With his magic gifts and Pot of Gold—he would make Santa a deal!
“Methinks Santa, all shall be fun for us with the kids’ puns and play!”
“Mewishes to give o’er me Pot of Gold to you, on this blessed day!”
Santa sensed and saw Timothy’s true self and his real Heart of Gold,
Now giving o’er his Pot of Gold for needy children—an act so bold!
Timothy came with Santa as his “First Helper” on Christmas Eve night;
Happy all children were seeing Santa’s radiant sleigh in the moonlight!
Santa even let Timothy ride on Rudolph, whose red nose shone so bright,
As Santa’s sleigh made its sacred, happy journey on this wondrous night!
Timothy’s story of his Christmas Dream came true on this star-lit night,
When he became one of Santa’s team members on this most divine night!
Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman
A Collaborated Poem – Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 3, 2015 (Rhymed Couplet)