Saunters Poems | Examples

The Cat

A cat that’s tawny beige and white
And very fluffy fat
Appears from nowhere, just like
We’ve rolled out a welcome mat.

Either plopped down in the driveway
Or stretched out upon the deck,
The cat seems right at home
Although the collar on its neck 

Tells me it belongs to someone; 
It is not a random stray,
Yet I cannot understand why
It keeps wandering this way.

If I approach, it saunters off,
Quite haughty, like it knows
That there are better stops to make,
Or that’s what I suppose.

Sunset Haiku

                         Sunset Haiku

 orange tinted sky
 sun saunters in sea to lie~
 relish to the eyes.

Caricature Of Drama Trilonnet

Quiet porch and a lazy chair,
sitting for a while is a song.
A blue collar stereotype.

Highlights visible from the air,
bold italics will show up strong.
Iconic, working that pinstripe. 

Dusk saunters in devil may care,
sizzling whatever could go wrong?
Tipple a taste of this peace pipe. 

Like a view of the county fair,
the big girl rides go all night long.
Such fine architectural hype.

I have built my diorama, 
a caricature of drama.

Demonstrative dedication

Easy to entrance the sycophants watch their helpless dance their back and forth swaying and swooning, in cunnilingual somniloquence.
Droning and drooling with flattering and fawning, turgently swelling, spouting placating pleasantries, a mess of gushing adulation.
Self exultation, craving congratulation by consensus for another conventional  sensation, clamouring for congratulation in lurid inflated infatuation.
Curtailing castigation, striving in strides as pedestrian asperation gives rise to typical inspiration, stillted it saunters soulessly, provoking predicable platitudes.
Dreary dedication denoting the humdrum and the ho-hum, tirelessly tiring, offering effortlessly banal bestowments bequeathing a tepid tranquillising testimonial.
Uniform, unchanged, unilateral applause, amplifying abysmal analogies, articulating dearth depictions of derivative denotations.
Cryptic quips collapse carelessly caused by cumbersome correlating contradictions, deviating detrimentally forth fatuous flutterings.
Stale sentiment, sterile superfluous suppositions, garishly guilded in grandure,
Repetitious rudimentary ruminations, repackaged and retold.

High Fidelity

Do you know my friend named Faith?
With trust in God, she treks through inconveniences,
stepping sprightly over them
with supreme optimism.

Smiling with ease, she saunters
along her life’s path, sure-stepping
for always she knows the way to go.
In the darkest of her days,
she still marches on;
a soldier of hope is she.
Some nights, she strolls, 
face toward the heavens,
searching for the Star of David
so keen are her convictions.

To her friends and family,
she is an angel 
ambling happily alongside them
and slowing down to lift them up
should they stumble and fall.

She loves her man
with the heart of a loyal lioness,
and he cannot help but reciprocate
her many kindnesses.
Do you know this woman?
Her faithfulness is to the sky,
for she’s got
high fidelity.

Maybe Faerie Godmothers House

No one knew where Faerie Godmother lived, but we had our suspicions.
About a lady down the road whose taffeta skirts were always squish’n.
Pearls and whistles are on her clothes and she saunters when she moves.
There was a special essence about her, she was in a faerie kind of grove.

If you saw the house, you might also peg her as a likely suspect.
Her house was done up in doily and swirls, never circumspect.
There was an ambiance about it that made you think magic was about.
I try to follow her and see what she is doing when she ventures out.

Big Brother

He blithely wanders along
Down a near empty street 
Off to see his mates for their
Monthly catch up and meet.
He’s happily unaware that
As he saunters slowly by
His every move is noted 
By that Big Eye in the sky.

He stops to take some money 
From the street cash machine
His every transaction recorded 
His every visit filmed and seen
The internet logs his browsing
He may think it’s a mystery 
But it’s still there even though
He deletes his browsing history.

His location precisely placed
From use of his mobile phone
In these modern times a person
Is very seldom really on his own.
Not quite as Orwell pictured it
But so very very near 
Whether we like it or not
1984 is really here.

Big Brother Is Watching 
They say in a good cause
Helping to maintain stability 
Ensuring we keep the laws.
It supposedly keeps us safe
Every single place we go
But in reality it’s just to
Maintain the Status Quo.

When Autumn Comes

When Autumn comes, she saunters in.
paints asters blue and streaks the skies
magenta! When chill winds begin
to susurrate, we hear her sighs.

Wearing multi-colored dresses,
when Autumn comes, she saunters in,
capriciously shakes her tresses
and with bright leaves then loves to spin.

Cavorting with the clouds within
the summer-ending skies of blue,
when Autumn comes, she saunters in.
But soon the woodlands she glides through.

Not long will Autumn stay too calm.
October sees strange pumpkins grin -
not like her onset days of balm.
When Autumn comes, she saunters in.

Fancy Folk

I was at this here shindig just the other night
was all duded up and was feeling all right
When this fancy fella saunters over my way
it 'peers to me like he might have something to say

Gawking at my boots, rodeo buckle and band
I guess he figured it out that I worked the land
He tips his wine glass with his pinky sticking out
then begins telling me just what ranching's about

He'd bought up thousands of acres of this cheap land
that used to belong to some worthless Indians
If I wanted real money, I'd be pumping oil
or dig gold, coal or silver from under the soil

He said man it's easy just to get down to it
bring in these machines and rip the prairie to 
Waive a little cash and them congressmen aught to
just follow you around like cattle to slaughter

I says hold on there, I'm not sure you understand
so just let me show you what I think of your plan
Us rancher, we have pride in caring for the land
and I introduced him to the back of my hand

I'm sure they won't ask me to any more soirees
none of them snooty people talk to me these days
Because as I walked out I toasted them you see
with a finger sticking out but not my pinky

Torch

At our illuminating service,
Whether at home or in the office, 
Many preferring to it handle,
For worships reserving their candle…

You lose old torch for new one find cash:
The joy while in a dark space Glorious flash!
For brightness I’d save for battery,
No need in darkness one jittery…

No torch ever sends packing the night,
Only to perimeters give light,
With none ever liked for sights dim:
The chances of user smiling slim…

Not what you find with a younger child,
Rather a lantern like child not wild;
For fishing out people at night thieves,
Whom you’d hailed in the day time “Chief!”

A Paraphernalia of hunters,
In feared forests at night one saunters;
With torch easily locates target,
As some from bright flash escape forget…

The Not-Held by a security 
His night shift stripped of sincerity.

Summer Romance

Today I'm savoring vignettes of summer memories
that I've kept folded within the haven of my heart.
Your comforting touch, warmer than a summer breeze
was my purpose in life; contained in my every thought.

I cherished our twilight saunters along the beach,
and recall the tenderness of your lips with each kiss.
The distance between us, you were first to breach.
Everything we shared that summer, I fondly reminisce.

Our lust for life and each other shifted by summer's end.
We'd fallen in love, one stronger than granite, we vowed.
A small plastic ring, you put on my finger as a friend,
then whispered, "I love you," saying the words aloud.

Even mountains made of stone can fall apart.
Time takes its toll leaving behind brittle parts of the past.
How do I explain to the ache inside my bruised heart
that some summer romances were never meant to last?

It Saunters

melt their shadowed knees
summer supplies its dimples
a light applause
bathed in bathetic leaves
saunters their laughter

Mothers cry for their children
they cherished dreams
yet knew the impossibility
but longing was their threadbare wish

Merlin the Magic Cat

Twelve midnight on a chilly dark night,
Dead silent, Eerie, and unsettling.

Everyone, of the small town of Serene
Are partying in the town hall.
A Halloween Masquerade Party.
Merlin the cat beams
When he saw the screen door swing open,
Rushes in like a bat on lighting fire
So not to get caught.

On his back feet, dances  In tune with the music,
Swinging his arms round,
Moving his head like an Egyptian,
Going a little cra, cra, crazy taking chances
Being the center of attention.

The spotlight shown up close
Reveal the face of the young "Merlin the Magic Cat"
Beaming as he took off his satin black mask.

Up to no good, he casts a love magic spell
To all that were in the town hall.
Seeing his love in his eyes,
Takes a deep breath, " MEOW."
Saunters over
While she strums her rhythm guitar.

Merlin's major weakness,
Beautiful young women of femme fatale
Leads will lead him to his doom.

All because of you.


10/11/2022

Saucy Sally and Studly Sam

Saucy Sally, sits solemnly on said sidewalk,
Stifling sniffles, sees sympathetic staring,
Some snidely shuffling slowly sideways, so
She surreptitiously swallows her sadness.
Studly Sam, strolling six shaggy sheepdogs,
Soon seizes on saucy Sally’s situation, and
Saunters steadily, still standing; swiftly,
Suggests she stifle her sniveling sadness.
Suddenly, she’s sharing six shaggy sheepdogs,
Silently, Sam says, sweet saucy Sally stay.

Written August 18, 2022

FIRST PLACE WINNER
Submitted to "Alliteration - Old or New" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
August 30, 2022

I Am a Pastry Chef

i am a pastry chef
the constant baker my lot in life
i have shelves filled with life's spices
grains from many different fields
my ovens are in constant heat
doors begging to be opened
that feed the outer shop
where the world may peruse, purchase 
if it so cares
but on that end, i hardly bother
i am not interested in what life
saunters away with
more so the ghosts that come in
this kitchen for an illuminating chat
after the recipe has been prepared
and the tray safely behind the oven door
we sit and line by line remember the limns
that now rest in ages gone by
delighted i am with each new word
that passes the lips from fields long harvested
or explore a bit of myth, perfect metaphor
how can one ever be alone
when so many pastry chefs 
come thru the door, accompanied by pages
that has served them well
and tho they never lift a tray
they are in every recipe
and every pastry you taste

   OKC   6/27

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