Short Playmates Poems

Grandmother
Granddaughter
being playmates
may bring ill fates...

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On this rainy day
The yellow frogs are croaking
To find their playmates....

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The Wind Shepherds

The winds,
 Like shepherds,
Tend Tule fog and dew;
 Playmates
Sliding down sunbeams,
 Teasing kites,
To leap frog
 Over mountains peeking
Into playgrounds
 Ever changing....

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Once upon a time
PoetrySoup and the iPad didn't play well
Glitches, bugs, fixes, made me whine
As I couldn't enjoy this wonderful site from my iPad

Now they'll playmates having fun in this world of technology
Speeding right along poetic Internet highway...

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(OIL PAINTING 1)

Brothers on the beach,
Seaside in reach,
The two amigos,
Blood brother bros,
Fraternals and kin,
Pals and companions,
Sidekicks and playmates,
Coastline siblings,
Buddies in the shingles,
A forever brother band, 
Golden memories of the strand....

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Playmates is all we
ever were and ever wanted.
To be friendly, frisky, rambunctious even.
Sometimes “ever” gets tricky seems
somewhere it got that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Usually when I lie about the form, it's because it makes me laugh to do so... love you guys muchly! ~N...

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the widows’ club
seasoned companions 
suitcases full of wit
playmates up for adventure
out for an escapade
consortium of allies
league of septuagenarians
a powerhouse of wisdom
tote travel bags of history



AP:  Honorable Mention 2020

Posted on February 24, 2020...

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Playmates illusion
                                       Feline stretches on its back
                                              Pup engages play
                                       Leaps into air with surprise
                                    Scratched nose, engages again

                                         By Eve Roper 11/20/2014...

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I was a young boy when I was told I am dull joy 
I envied my playmates when they show me their toys
I got nothing but a piece of small toy of no hand soldier
I picked it in the mud of our house under
I kept it as a promised that I must submit
I am a poor to bet my playmates were rich 
I am determined to keep that I am indeed a bit
I am but a chip of delight!...

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From the ancestors
Generations to generations
Lives carry on like new sprouts 
And flourishing like a jungle
Newborns are our hope
Nowadays newborns are totally different
Imbedded in an aircond surrounding
With love and care
A lot of toys
A lot of playmates
Hyperactive, alert and wise
Will carry on the family tree
And our mission
A mission of love of course...

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God is a mystery player
He is the life time referee
Plays all positions alone
But you score own goals

You attack with open boot
Dodge you may all games
Stones you throw at Him
Yet never gives red card

No trophy He accepts
Advertisement He rejects
Spectators come voluntarily
And also exit as they desire

God is truly a mystery player
Humans, stubborn playmates...

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My conduits, loin and womb
Poles of my basic knowledge
Images I have had – and had to carry

Playmates, first instinct of variants
Names, faces, and statures
And the homes we head to after school

Hear ye of my teachers
Who’ve shown me to carve my niche
From earth’s rules and exceptions

In tracking the sun and you
Yes – here is where and what I am
This is to those about me indeed...

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Early one Christmas morn
my eyes flew open wide,
found no gifts under the tree
so I ran to look outside.

Everywhere, on the ground
lay mounds of fluffy snow
and parked right in front,
topped with a big red bow,

was my trusty old wagon
full of presents galore.
Four eyes peeked out and
made my emotions soar.

Two furry little playmates
to fill the hours of my days
full of love and amusement
with their wild, playful ways....

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Revisiting My Mother Goddess

The lake
That looks like a piano
On it sat 
Thousand cranes and two
Seemed like a moonlight sonata by the moonlight.

But why is my mind yearning forever
For the  unmindful musings?
I had been there once, nearly
Forty years ago.

They send me return tickets from Jhargram,
For the festive October,
Celebrating the home coming of our mother goddess
But they never take me to that childhood playmates....

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The Angels guide her now,
And watch her curly head,
And lead her in their games,
The little girl we led.

She cannot come to harm,
She knows more than we know,
Her light is brighter by far,
Than the day here below.

Her path leads on and on,
Through pleasant lawns and flowers,
her hazel eyes open wide,
Jjat grass more green than ours.

With playmates like herself,
The shining girl will sing,
Exploring wondrous places,
Sweet and eternal spring....

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Be the steward of your garden,
don't blame others for your plight.  
There are always consequences,   
you are now reaping what you've sowed.

You have tools at your disposal
that only you can call at will.                   
don't be like little children, 
blaming playmates for lost toys.

You are quite special and unique,
so take faith and mind your garden.
Your friends will respect your fairness,
and your garden will soon bloom....

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I remember as a young boy
Sitting on top Mount Parnassus
Consumed in writing I enjoyed.
Mostly poetry to express
At the time my innermost thoughts
While below my childhood playmates
Romped and played and most often fought.
And myself trying to translate
Feelings into coherent thought
And writing them down on paper.
I recollect those times that taught
Self- discipline behavior.
Yet if I lived it all again
I would be one of those children....

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I seem to drift through clouds of blue
My eyes are wondering and looking for you
I know you are here waiting for me
Sitting by this beautiful celestial sea
  We used to run and play around
The trees,the swings,the merry go round
But one day you didn't come to play
So now I find you in my special way.
  I stare real hard into the sky
And find your home on clouds up high
I close my eyes,you come out to play.
We are playmates for another day.


  I...

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When I peep into past
And recall life's early morn
Present life stings and pains
Like sting of cactus thorn
For a while I get lost
In sweet memories of playful days
Little playmates and their funny ways
Tops and marbles and kites
Petty squabbles and fist-fights
Eyes wonderous,colored objects
Burlap bags and fragile slates
But like brilliant night of fullmoon
This flashback too recedes soon
And again the cycle of life
Same domestic chores same
Familiar wife...

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