Romping Poems | Examples

Smiles Of Childhood Days

A sudden drizzle gushed along the street,
That I wiggled out , romping and playing 
In my cotton jumpshirt as summer cooled,
To allow a downpour of monsoon rain.

Swerving through puddles  where  debris
Gathered around little tots'  feet, 
Our lithe bodies slip-skidded, glided
On a roller-coaster ride of muddy  suds... what fun!

Then, I picked dingy ferns coiled  by reeds,
Merrily smiling past waters, unclear…
Till Mom and Dad yelled "kids , clean up...” 
O youth's  play of bubble-pop made us blush.

Then soft winds crooned among the trees
Where  only spellbound laughter can recall
This whimsical atmosphere:  A time to reel, 
To cherish the frolic in heat of summer days
Which spangled my childhood sprees aloft!

The Dog

Alone,
the dog outrides the flock,
warning away the terrors of night.
He sees
the cheery glow of the shepherds’ fire,
murmured talk and quiet laughter
float past him softly
on the chill autumn breeze.
He longs
to sit with them beside the light,
sharing avidly
(tongue lolling,
 slyly smiling)
in their good-natured jokes
but that is not his place:
He is a dog and no man
and his place is outside
in the dark, a sentinel.

He sees
the sleeping flock,
pressed body to body to hold their warmth,
and longs
to lie in their midst as one of them,
dreaming sheeply dreams,
but that is not his place:
He is a dog and no sheep
and must remain awake outside
to guide strays back to the fold.

The flock stirs anxiously and bleats.
His ears prick, he hears it too,
the tugging untamed howl
of wild wolves in the night.
The ancient wolf in him
longs
to melt into the forest,
romping with them
on their feral haunts,
but that is not his place either:
He is a dog and no wolf
and his place is beside the flock.

Tears of the Forest

The trees remember what the axe forgets.
The mirth of lovers romping on the loam.
The light that filtered through in golden nets,
and beasts that roamed for shelter in the gloam.

A broken branch still weeps for a birdsong.
Its tears of sap, the proof of unseen scars,
that cling to echoes hoping to prolong,
a splintered life among the fallen stars.

The oak that watched the centuries pass by, 
now chopped in grief no landscape should endure.
The magpies’ songs sound as a craving cry.
Yet, their sad thrill affords a scant succour.

The chainsaws wailed the way sad mothers moaned.
while sawdust stacked up high like guilt disowned.

An Equestrian Tale

Pleased as punch this mother quite proud
Flips up her tail and neighing so loud

Her gait so lively, her head held high
A bright young mama, once a gleam in her eye

Unbridled spirit, feeling so grand
The spitting image of his dear old man

Romping through fields, free of reins
Thundering hoofs, flying mane

A frisky young colt like dad in his day
Who was quite a stud they were heard to say 

Then back to the barn when day is done
This spirited young colt was born to run

Resting for a while batteries recharged
Chomping at the bit, a spirit so large

Such unbridled youth, exuberance defined
This pesky young colt, it's his time to shine

Whiling Away The Hours

Atop yellow sunflowers
a dragonfly and a fairy
were playing, whiling away the hours
romping and being merry.
It is generally believed
that fairies protect sunflowers;
plans to pick one would be ill-conceived,
fairies wield magic powers.

As scarlet inks, a spent sun,
and ebony sculpts silhouettes;
a brisk breeze brings an end to their fun;
gusting strong as the sun sets.
Dragonfly and fairy take wing,
vanishing along with the sun;
as crickets chirp, while nightingales sing,
and shadows merge into one.

A Season of Lovers

The scent of wood smoke in the chilly wind
 almost brings the remembrance of warmth.
My extremities no longer feel the bite of Icy air, 
numb, asleep, even as the fire in my belly burns. 

Each season has its way of touching your senses,
 like past lovers, so different but still familiar. 
Spring is energetic romping and first time surprises. 
The lazy caress of summer leaves you spent and aching. The playfulness of autumn tickles and chases and laughs. 

But winter,  winter is frantic and bitter, dramatic highs and lows. The quivering, shivering, shattering cold of a turned back, and the melting comfort of embraces. 

Each snowflake is frozen joy, bursting out from drops of water, and freezing. 
Turn your face to the sky and taste the joy on your tongue! 
There is something miraculous 
and magical about 
walking on water.

Juggle Jams and Jiggle Jello

Hiya, howdy, hey, and hello.
Juggle jams and jiggle jello.
Jumping joyfully, and jolly,
try it in a tram or trolley.

Happy, hopping, silly stomping,
rollicking and rowdy romping,
bouncing, bubbly butterscotch,
hilarious, howling, hot hopscotch.  

Lofty leaping, crazy creeping,
slipping, sliding, squawking, squeaking,
Care for cookies, candies, or cakes?
Such silly sounds, for heaven's sakes.

Legacy!

Some things are hereditary.
Not necessarily from parents or grandparents,
You can inherit them from elements.

Look at the Earth! 
So shy and recluse and introvert
For the last few months of Fall and Winter
Is now romping on the ramp 
In exotic costumes
Walking asymptotically
Assured of her grace
Wafting onlookers to the bourns of ecstasy!

On her trail 
Even heavens grow goosebumps
For having watched her
Without batting an eyelid!

Joyful Jumping

Joyful jumping, oh so jolly,
try it in a tram or trolley
Jiggle, juggle, Jane's tamale,
a laugh, a lark, fine, fun folly. 

Happy, hopping, silly stomping,
rarified and risky romping,
bouncing Bonnie's butterscotch,
hilarious, howling hoppyscotch.

Lofty leaping, crazy creeping,
mindful mother's mostly sleeping,
but don't bop with Betty's brisket,
she'll conk you, bonk you, no, don't risk it.

Animus Insight

A slow romping sound
bassey and engaging
a clear crisp rhythmic
groove.
Traditions developed
under the influence of
Modern Musiciceir 
some who were past their prime
some who music neglected
some who were proud famous
with Phanez across the world!
These influencers
Smart and On time
using sounds that people
Love and sounds that people
will love.
" I love the rhythm
I love the song
but those
lyrics
needs ah changing around
making a story out of
the lyrics
might draw us to some
sort of troubling
refocus
and clarify
" Under Wooden Bridges"
the bassoons began to play
I introduced my flutist 
to the bassoonist
and lett nature have it's way.
They will sort the strans to
exaserbate the exsisting tensions.

Passaggio Passaggio C4 C6

The Physical qualities of the song ranged 
from perfect to exceptional.
Two Mezzo- Soprano's chored to
perform at song made for a tenor.
thy were a Phenomal couple
singing a song
about two lovers who were never
to speak of there love.A Hero To her
lonilness is a Champion of her love. The female character spoke of
her love of a man who wished never to marry: but fell in love
and he and she debated ever becoming married
due to pople who might not come around them if they endeavored in a maritail togethernes.
The song features points of devotion: points of fear: it puts an emphisises on togetherness: but details
the labors of continuing to be together.
Lovers who fear the future
might look to this song and find reason to stay together or part..
When the Baritone and Tenor take stage the song changes it's rhythmn.
the story is same bt the sound shift's to a grueling grind. a slow romping soothing sound.
A bass and tenor than performs while a mezzo soprano provides a background with anwsers to the Malo charcters questions.
When the Bass ask's her to marry the men combine
in a chorus to spak with one voice.
Perfection to sync the perfect sound!
Bravo! Music Bravo!

Hounds of Yesterday

There’s a howling in the air tonight
A baying at the moon
For the hound is running free again
And his voice has joined the tune
Of a thousand other voices
That echo through the years
And a certain blue-tick calling
– She’s calling through my tears

They’re in the backwoods running now
Like in a younger age
Baying on the trail with joy
As they did just yesterday
With their feet, like wings, a'flying
As they gulp the happy air
Wild-eyed little maniacs
Without a worldly care!

Do you hear them now, my darling?
Do you see them in the fields
The sun upon their shadows, the wind
Blowing through their ears?
As you know you’ll always see them
And hear them from afar
Romping through the atmosphere
From star to shining star

Now they pause in listening silence
As if they seem to sense
The presence of our memories
In the near but distant past –
For their memories, as such they keep
Are as near as mine today
Which holds them still, while still I weep
For my hounds of yesterday –

Laughter Recall

Playing in sunshine
is a twirling girl and cat
Meows and laughter
Romping away sweet moments
until the day is drowsing

In tall green grasses
pretty kitty's soon sleeping
in shadows of day
The orange sun's retreating
in meadow of memories

Rats

Rats! Rats! Rats!
Romping, frolicing, ruckussy rats!
Cuddly, bubbly, lovably rats!
Pestering, menacing, troublesome rats!
Rats! Rats! Rats!

Getting in your hair
Crawling through open holes
Bouncing ‘round from chair to chair
Licking leftover food out of bowls

Tickling, bothersome
Pickling, lothersome
Just plain nuisancy 
RATS!

*I wrote this poem at the age of 12 and I want to share it here in honor of World Rat Day (April 4)

In the Grass

I was just a little lass
running barefoot in the grass
tiny feet were romping past
birds and bees along the path. 

Peering through the grass I found 
bugs and snails on the ground 
ladybugs were all around 
flit and flying without a sound. 

Then I happened on a pond
dipped my toes into the bog
tadpoles swam under a log
lying low and waterlogged. 

Crickets chirped and lilies laughed 
green frogs leapt along the path
trails of flowers and sassafras 
running barefoot in the grass. 






3/25/2023

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