Shimmies Poems | Examples

Staircase

shadow
shimmies up stairs
catches my eye
and ceasing its pursuit
stops so I can snap its soul
coiled and still

Tinsel

A tremolo of quivering,
movement of light 
She shimmies she shimmers 
like yesterday's gold ...
Like a gentle soft wind 
on the fresh fallin' snow. 
Lamettas of old

In The Shadow of Sunlight

Quote: When earth’s one half faces the sun, the other half goes to restful sleep – Anonymous
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With tilted axis
And elliptical orbit
Earth shimmies like Prima ballerina

With a graceful pirouette
She faces the Sun’s heat
Smooths out glare on her feet

At night she parties
Filling veins of her green
With stimulating goodness sap

Moon, the proud practice partner
Strenthens her seasonal jumps
Allows her to Celebrate

Appreciative Sun shines
More on the partner
To see well the glow on ballerina

Unmindful of Newton’s theories
Lush lives thrives on this duet
In the shadow of sunlight

Evil Christmas Elves

Tom Cunningham has declared war on the elves this year,
The ones who hacked Santa Claus' computer. and I fear
the naughty or nice lists were mischievously reversed.
I'm very sure I heard Mrs. Claus gasp when Santa cursed.

A PDQ solution is needed for Christmas to be made right
before he shimmies down chimneys Christmas Eve night.
The last thing Santa wants is for the horrid girls and boys
to receive fun presants cuz they don't deserve great toys.

If anyone reading this knows how this crisis can be fixed
please overnight it to the North Pole care of Old St. Nick's.
PS... Don't use email. Remember his computer was hacked,
and it's my firm belief the guilty elves should be whacked!!

The Treetop Glimmers Outside My Window

The treetop glimmers outside my window
   As light, dancing upon the leaflets -
Shimmies about in affable yellow.
   My gaze can't help but be captivated
By light, pure and perfectly aglow.

In the wind, swaying charismatically -
   Every leaf is twirled as a ballerina -
Playing with my fragile jealousy.
   I think I hear an underlying viola -
Oh, light - would you dance with me?

Empty

You walk down the halls with chatter illuminating every corner you walk through
But it still feels as if you are by yourself and only yourself while your mind is filled with thoughts you would never say to another individual face to face
EMPTY
You walk to lunch with your stomach growling 
You sit down with your friends
Your head shimmies down to your crossed arms
You feel as if everyone is uncomfortable with your sadness and your inability to let out how you're really feeling
EMPTY
Eyes start watering as you stand up from the table
You walk to the bathroom in a normal nonchalant way hoping no one would notice your blotchy face and scratchy voice
You sit down in a stall
Knees to chest 
Head to knees
YOU FEEL EMPTY
Tears fall
EMPTY
It rings from ear to ear
The silence
The wippering
Even if anyone else was with you to try and resolve the situation you would still feel
EMPTY
So instead your alone 
Alone and craving for someone to fix you
Knowing only you can fix the emptiness inside

Hot Chocolate Hot Chocolate

Hot chocolate hot chocolate I like it sweet, at Yule time I'll drink it then take a back seat 
beside the old tree where Santa I'll meet they'll be cookies galore for St Nick to eat
as he shimmies and jiggles on two booted feet and a face flushed like rubious beet 
I'll be eager to meet him but I will not cheat as I wait for the daylight now isn't that neat !
hot chocolate hot chocolate with marshmallows too I'll watch the chimney as I quietly chew    
I have coated the bricks with butter and goo so his belly will slide,  
(wink) he'll know what to do !
Down in the manger the angels acrue waiting for Jesus to 
make His debut 
While the Three Kings are offering their three gifts on cue, dear Santa 
I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you 
Hot chocolate hot chocolate I like it sweet, 
but when it comes to Jesus, I won't take a back seat.

Falling Leaves

Fall is the most beautiful time of the year for me, with its blushing  
Apples and fruitful trees dressed in zesty rubious healthy leaves with       
Luminous fruit hanging off its stems, like galas, granny smiths, and fuji 
Leaves of multi colored sunburnt shades of yellow, gold and brown   
Inside the orchard, ladders, bushels, straw hats and farmer pant- grins  
No better place to be then underneath an Autumn tree when every    
Golden leaf shimmer-shimmies before swiveling down at  your feet    

Leaves that dance and shuffle-shake before landing in your hands     
Earthing to the ground covering you with giant leafy  dry crispy limbs   
Arrest the night, stop the moon, hold the stars, its time to listen to the       
Voices of the night, the falling leaves have their sorrowful story to tell 
Ease into their season with a quiet soul.  Help them say goodbye to the   
Summer. After all it is the season of Autumn,  a time for falling leaves. 

September 27, 2021

A Brand-New Day

Draped over the land like a ghostly shroud,
a blanket of morning mist
morphs into rolling banks of fog;
soft as an eider-filled duvet.
Dawn rebukes Night's claim to darkened skies
and armed with chisels of light
sculpts ebony shadows
into shifting shapes,
sent scurrying into nooks and crevices.
Sleeping sounds slowly awaken;
giving voice to Nature,
as a scarlet sun silently shimmies up a crimson sky.
Pink, indigo, and blue hues
flow over an ebony canvas of stars and moon;
as color emerges from Sol's first light.
And a bashful breeze blows silhouettes into disarray;
etch-a-sketching a brand-new day.

Predilection of Dawn

The glide of the plane almost in step with my rooftop.
Visibility of blue heaven low; lookout for earthwalkers.
My bland Toyota euphoric and banded by tight forest.
The span of an angelic chorus, a serendipitous psalm.
The predilection of dawn, a tributary hawk sails on.
The silver cross shimmies and shakes reflected in mirror.
I steady it with my heartbeat, my smile, my faith.

9/25/2020

The End of the Line

 the sun still shimmies up every morn
meanders down at days end

the moon fills the nights in various stages

morning streets are bombarded by struts slow and fast

cars sigh their usual obnoxious yells 

sleep eludes me
tormented thoughts 


you
occupy my psyche 
brush stroke by brush stroke
and still never exactly you

your mona lisa allure 
impossible to commit to memory 

white flag in hand 
surrender to your capture

trapped in the 
the shame of my fragility 

i hesitate 
that jump off the cliff
 
i’ve walked the burning fields 
where the smoke renders me blind 
embraced my lack of sight

too many battles spun from steel
too many scars still not heeled

how does one exit this ride
this coaster of contradictions 

i’ve found no path

A wisp of your outline
invades my sleep 

how do i let go
how do I hold on

left in your hands
how do you find my where 

if 
i 
myself

can’t find the starting line

Fri Feb 28

She Dances In Her Blue Dress

She Dances in Her Blue Dress

She stands beneath shimmering clear soft lights 
in subtle beauteous of elegance. 
A faint glimmer sparks in her eyes ignites 
an idyllic aura anxious to dance.

She wears a flattering blue amorous 
of the shoulder, flounce sleeves, body-con dress.
Adorned honey ankle strap, glamorous
rhinestone high heels; to show off and impress.

With the sway of her sexy hips moving
She shimmies to the drum beat and fast rhythm
leaving behind Chanel glance enthralling 
fragrant in the crowded room dazzling them.

As she turns, walks away in her blue dress
Her honey skin purrs with weather's caress.

12/28/2019
 Poetry Contest:  Blue Dress
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausin

A Black Silk Shawl

As the sun shimmies down blue skies and sets,
clouds streaked with pink, mauve, and grey pave its way.
And the night gets wrapped in a black silk shawl,
whose threads slowly snuff out the light of day.

As Mars and Venus arrive on the scene,
Luna rises to reveal a pocked face.
And twilight dims, setting the stage for dusk,
fixed within the fabric of time and space.

Clouds of bats swarm out of secluded caves
to feast on moths, snatched right out of the air.
And while ebony shadows shift and merge,
yellow eyes in the gloom seemingly stare.

And the haunting hoots of an owl are heard,
as the line between day and night gets blurred.

Lake Or Pool

swimming in a lake
among bullfrogs and catfish
natural hot springs
in patches of cold water
a water snake shimmies past

swimming in pool
heavily chlorinated 
reddening my eyes
I long for a cool pond
my own private lake in woods

At the Millpond

The millwheel will not turn again till spring
for Winter’s icy cold grip holds it firm.
She squeezes it like Her private plaything,
though Her crushing power is but short-term.

As shorter days subtly lengthened; the sun
slowly began to liquefy the ice. 
And the waterwheel shook, and almost spun, 
while the miller posted his asking price.

Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
the ice is breaking up at the millpond.
And housewives could soon buy flour once more,
for each village, and its mill shared a bond.

The millwheel shimmies free from Winter’s grip,
shuddering as the water level peaks.
And as pressure increases drip by drip,
the pond ice melts, and the wooden wheel creaks. 


(Quatrain)


6/26/2018

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