Short Joggers Poems

the
trouble
with jogging
is that by the time
you realise how unfit
you are, it’s way too 
far to even think 
about walking 
back home
again...

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Murdead Whales... Come, Viles, to roo'n mankind; 
Messied Wonts and Voors, cling to grassied side-be-side;
Mersey's waves in vastest willeddest Summertime,
Merdrer's muggying Wives, jogst very lost in weedsy trashline....

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spring,
thy name,
is beauty.
the sun is up,
casting a bright glow.
joggers emerge once more.
dandelions peep from cracks
the wind whispers sweet notes of love.
birds on tree tops sing lovely duets
and set my heart beating in a sweet rhythm.
...

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Young brothers sport
Brown leather mitts,
The ball they toss
Is white, not scuffed,
And on the walk
A robin hops
While joggers pant
Along the lane—
Yes, spring has come,
Chill days have fled,
And barren trees
Flaunt verdant buds
As women, young,
Don skimpy skirts
To catch the eyes
Of virile men
Enjoying sun
This springtime day....

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Hocus pocus! Look, a crocus 
Poking through the ground!
Weather’s warm so I should focus -
Flowers might be found.

Buds are blooming; I’m assuming 
Petals will appear.
Time to stop my indoor Zooming;
Signs of spring are here.

Joggers baring legs and wearing
Shorts and tees or tanks.
Not me yet but I’m preparing
Soon to join their ranks....

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Seagulls soar and pigeons fly,
Sharing one huge cloud-streaked sky.
While they swoop and scavenge, I
Sit watching them in flight.

Walkers with their dogs stroll by;
Joggers pass, their heads held high
And in repose, I wonder why
This brings me such delight.

With my pencil, I can try
To get on paper, thoughts that my
Perceptions let me amplify
When I sit down and write.
...

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Dogs of every shape and size
On leashes pass by, prancing,
While breezes from the river blow
And set the leaves to dancing.

Balls are tossed and trees are climbed
As sweat-stained joggers, bouncing,
Make tracks around the strollers,
Like their fitness they're announcing.

Families and friends converse 
And benches fill, inviting
The readers and observers
And a certain poet, writing....

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I’m the only one out here,
The benches all bare,
The sky full of clouds
And a chill in the air.

Yet it’s where I belong
Doing what I must do
And I’m lucky the river
Provides a great view.

Some joggers, some barges,
Some seagulls, some tugs – 
A scene likely met with
Some “no big deal” shrugs.

Though I’ve said this before
Many times in a poem
On my bench by the river
I’m happily home....

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Ferry on the river;
‘Copter in the sky.
Bicycles and scooters
(Some with bells!) all pass me by.

Joggers pound the pavement;
Walkers simply stroll.
Benches are deserted.
(Recent raindrops took a toll.)

Still, I’m out here sitting,
Checking out the scene,
Feeling not quite up or down
But somewhere in between.

As my trusty pencil
Jots each thought upon a line,
It helps record reflections
Found within this mind of mine....

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I run out to see the joggers.
The prettiest one screams.
I am not scary! I think.
A mean old one is blaring a can that hurts my ears.
I run back into the thicket.
What is wrong with these two-leggers?
Do they not know I only want a bit of food?
Dang! Here comes that uniform guy with the badge.
The one that shot me in the butt and put a tag on me.
I crouch down low. Wishing he would go away. 
He is ruining my visit with the next set of joggers....

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Whitecaps on the river;
White clouds in the sky.
I’m sitting on a bench with winds
That billow from on high.

While joggers pass behind me
And bikers pump their knees,
Some dogs on leashes strut their stuff
As I enjoy the breeze.

There’s sparkle on the water
And sunshine in the air;
I’ve things I should be doing
But for now, I just don’t care.

This promenade’s my refuge,
To settle and unwind,
A place to find a little peace
And leave my cares behind....

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A glorious radio symphony begs for attention,
While the lonely heart writes its fluted song
And hopes you hear the melody 
It so longs to sing to you.

The autumn air blows free
And joggers with panting brown dogs
Run by windows lined with morning pulled blinds
And fall’s brilliant leaves drifting, drifting, drifting.

While I hide behind the glasses
And watch and wish to say goodbye,
Goodbye to summer’s crush and
Hello to your new and winter capped smile....

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My mind is filled with thinking.
My belly’s filled with food.
My body may be shrinking
But today I will not brood.

I’m sitting where it’s shady
With the river at my feet,
Just a New York City lady
With no deadlines I must meet.

A fireboat goes zipping,
Leaving foam within its wake.
The joggers’ sweat is dripping;
Running now is a mistake.

I come to my conclusions
When I’m calm and have the time,
Giving in to the illusions
They will make a nifty rhyme....

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