Long Toddle Poems
Long Toddle Poems. Below are the most popular long Toddle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Toddle poems by poem length and keyword.
OLD AND NEW 1 : CIRCUS
Giraffe on anxious heels
bought in Sandton, toddle
along with intense haste
a dream point unheard
lipstick smudges, mascara
leaks of AK47 dust she rifled
Bullfrog madly croaks
vying for a place in a stagnant
pool, scoffing brandied chocolate
pinched nerves, heart infested
throat on a tightrope
Is the net below safe ?
Doe dark-eyed, hips to sink
into, marbled beauty stuck
in corner stage believing that
the circle offered freedom, unable
to move for want of a thatched
roofed house, chrysanthemumed
Lions and lionesses rounded pillars
new regal maned performers
late for debate, entrance timed
for a precise shapely attack
on buck across the atrium who
practiced prances early morning
In the middle stood Pharaoh
with invisible crook and flail
a sleek panther serpent eyed
veils of disinterest, ears on end
at plebs in the arena, acts like
phantoms danced along a
smooth mental screen
Fidget they would on
maroon re-upholstered
benches over which not
even Bach could flow
mints popping pockets
On the horizon they
disappeared into an African
circus becoming marula trees
on our border
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1996
As a child born late summer,
my senses were first flooded
by the images, sounds and smells of fall.
Was I aware of orange pumpkins, wind
caressing the bright leaves, and smells of pies?
I must have known the cold of
wintertime. Did I marvel
to see my first snowflakes and feel them too
falling on my skin? Christmas would have been
in the air – pine scents and sounds of carols.
The wonder of spring coming
surely had brought me delight.
My soul was growing then in many ways.
Did I toddle in sunlight, looking at
pretty flowers nodding in a cool breeze?
Summer’s advent would have brought
my first experience with
sweltering days and perhaps a parade!
Did my eyes widen to see fireworks burst
in night’s sky? Did I wade along sea’s shore?
By age one (not knowingly)
I’d have learned much about life.
Today I walked the lake the wrong way round
and seeing such, the world seemed upside down.
What once was on the left was on the right
and shadows fell where once there was sunlight.
Agape, aghast and tipsy, I did toddle
all befuddled, as I dawdled, round the puddle.
Seeing sights I never thought I’d see,
meeting folks who walked a ways with me.
What a miracle, what sheer delight
to find some changes bring happiness not fright.
To find so much of what we see is mere impression
of how we walk, with whom and our discretion.
But, Widdershins* is the way I walk round
seems my right side up’s your upside down!
*To move 'widdershins' is to go anti-clockwise, or against the sun.
I sit in the arbor..it's half past midnight
but I cannot sleep tonight.
Somewhere between the pillows and blankets
sleep went into decline.
So I sit in the garden on this silent night
as the moon casts her spell on me one more time.
Flowers sway listlessy in the wind.... sleepy eyes drooping,
preparing once more to face another day.
Grotesque shadows stalk among trees and shrubs
eerie shapes....a silent display.
Stars in the skies twinkle and shine
the little stream trickles ....a melody divine.
I close my eyes and go back in time
for the present is still... time cease to exist
for me and mine.
So to the past I go...the future is not mine to know.
Back in my childood...that wonderful place where
play was my livelihood...innocence my defence
against all that was bad... the good I enjoyed.
Birds on the window sill...pigeons in the coop
chickens and rooster my friends on the stoep.
Picnics and camps and days on the beach
tempered by scolds and slaps
the way old folks teach ...the goals we must reach.
Keeping us on the path was their aim in life
to do so they chose the way they felt was right.
How quickly that time flew....a mother I became
joys mixed with sadness repeated again
watching little ones grow , toddle and smile
fills me with motherly pride.
Now all that has changed.... everyone's full grown
I thought it was the end...but that's not so.
Now grandchildren I have.....three girls ..eleven boys
to fill my days with laughter and joy
my companions in the daytime... they're my dreams at night.
Fulfilled I am and overly blessed
past trials in my life...were merely tests.
Christian Values — stitched in Lace —
On Children’s Tales of Flame —
Where Angels hum of golden Gates
And Devils chant our Name —
Born — of Nothing — less than Dust —
Yet promised Crowns of Light —
We toddle toward Eternity
With Candles for the Night —
But Death — a sober Storyteller —
Turns every Page to Air —
And folds the Book of Flesh and Bone
As if we were never Here —
No Trumpet sounds — no Judgment Seat —
No Pearly Portals gleam —
Only the hush of finished Breath
And Ash where Faith had been —
If Heaven waits — it keeps its Word
In Silence — not in Flame —
And Brimstone is but Fairy Ash
From Fear that learned our Name.
Children are little marvels
They conquer things big and small
They have no inhibitions
No cares or worries at all.
From the moment they start moving
When they roll from front to back
You know it won't be long
Before they launch their first attack.
All the things that are needed
Like a bowl, a spoon, a bib
Nappies, clothes and bum cream
A buggy and a crib.
When they get up on their feet
And toddle to your side
Their hands will be in everything
With a grin a mile wide.
Children are little marvels
That we wouldn't be without
They bring us smiles and sunshine
And love with no room for doubt.
Form:
OUR LITTLE BIRD
From the moment she could toddle in the grass…before she said one word…
she would stand in her front yard and point up at the birds.
Watching their daughter smile when she saw the birds resting or in flight…
her parents filled her room with bird books they read to her each night.
They weren’t even upset…nor did they think it a bit absurd…
when, instead of mama or dada…the first word she said…was bird.
One night, after they finished reading and began to tuck her into bed…
with a smile on her face their daughter looked at them…and said:
“Mom, Dad! Do you know what I want to be when I finally grow?”
They sat down on the bed next to her saying, “Tell us…we’d like to know.”
She sat up all excited…then announced emphatically,
“I’m pretty sure…when I grow up…a bird is what I want to be!”
“I want to be like all the other birds I see in the trees and in the sky.
I want to be the kind of bird who spreads her wings…and flies!”
Smiling at each other, “That’s a wonderful dream.” Her parents said
then they kissed her on the forehead and tucked her into bed.
A parent’s responsibilities are many…it’s a blessing…and a chore…
when to bring their children down to Earth…when to let their imaginations soar.
Knowing how much she loved birds since the moment her little life began
They talked it over that night…and came up with a plan.
The next morning they handed her a helmet…
when she stepped out of her bed.
“Get dressed as quickly as you can.” They said.
“And when you’re dressed put this helmet on your head.”
As they turned to leave the room…their daughter asked them why…
“Because,” they smiled, “we have a lot of work to do…
if we’re going to teach you how to fly.
CONCEPT...FLOW....PROSODY.....
these are sequencailly sound!
Wishing aint gonna make it happen
it's best to stop whinnin and complaining
tuuf it out if you goota
when life puts you through changes
we gots to togther
sorting out the foolishness
from the good stuff
got to be more reliable
to get through this situation
it aint easy thinkin up something
when there aint that musch to say
what seriuos to me is a joke to you
sems you like it that way
toddle up and get ther
do your best to keep it right
we gonna be together
just let me make it throught the night
pucker up and kiss me
Sweet lady let me be your man
concepts flowing groovin together
pouring out like a soda can
swig aint that nasty
it sweter then the honey from the bee's
cold to cold today and tommorow
just keep me off my knee's
The waves’
little licks,
muss piles of sand;
chalk blue horizons,
bathe crystal-glass land.
Wet basting breezes,
Salted pink baby knees,
oiled baby bottoms
cool in the seas.
Oceans reflect,
the blue of turquoise;
beneath candy striped umbrella’s
toddle tikes playing with toys.
I can tell you of the waves;
the push and pull,
the ceaseless tide,
the tiny tumbled treasures
of pebbles by my side.
I can tell you of the waves;
the sinking surface of sea and sand,
joining all the clay of man;
as he sinks into the Mother
and melts into land.
But the paper pages end
and why should you sit here?
The waves are calling to you
with birds, boats and dreams.
Morning snows in my dreaming book of secrets.
Like a Disney movie, sparrows are singing in my head.
An hour after coffee I grasp reality as if it were
inflatable and survivable.
A plane crashed in the night, I know I went down,
but the night forgot the plot in the turmoil
of another dawn chorus call.
Now there is deep snow, and winter forecasts
are already piling into drifts where a few sparrows
bounce weightless in the sparkling air.
Today will be special, I will go to special school,
one created for semi-illiterate writers of sparrow music.
I will choose bright yellow sun-shaped faces.
Helpers will open my book of dreaming secrets,
then slowly in a language made for simpler times,
explain what I said when my mind was fed
by fantastical stage music.
Then after crumpets and tea, the rest of me
will toddle into the night dragging a life-belt behind.
The sparrows will fall silent, a dimmet landscape
will be full of previously downed and drowned,
I will enter it with eyes closed
in order not to see what happens next,
and if we all again die a little, will it matter?