Stroll Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Just out for a stroll

Well... hello hello to you.
And a fine how do you do.
I've escaped from the zoo.



AP: Honorable Mention 2026

Skunks Stroll

Skunks stroll in moonlight;
a mother and her four kits.
I ignore her stance.

Premium Member Solitary Stroll

solitary stroll
in the gathering twilight...
I have company
with all the birds and the trees
and hear music in the wind


Premium Member Darkest Hour

Though blitzkrieg bombs drop like rain
We Brits shall smile with shear disdain
My Cuban cigar now bursts aflame
Like a dawn that ends our darkest hour
And burnt tobacco falls from its tip
Like future Nazi ashes they drip
From the bloody jaws of victory we will snatch defeat
I shall grab my bowler and cane to stroll down Downing Street.

Super Satisfying Sunrise Stroll

"It is quite possible to leave your home for a walk in the early morning air and return a different person - beguiled, enchanted."
                                 ~ Mary Ellen Chase

We enjoy the whistling wind as we walk, 
The cool morning breeze calms and charms us, 
A peacock is perched on a peepal tree, 
Its fine feathers flowing fascinatingly, 
Its sound of squawking seems sophisticated, 
Like mystical music to its magnificent mate;
The butterscotch-orange ball blooms in the blue, 
A snake slithers silently in the sewer nearby, 
Songbirds tweet tantalizingly in the tall trees, 
Vehicles plying on the highway are a vision to view, 
Blushing bougainvilleas have blossomed in bunches, 
Numerous neem trees line the narrow footpath, 
A squirrel squeezes through a small, square hole, 
And we uncover God's wonders as He unveils a new day.

Stroll

Time - the toxic air of life subliming from the clock,
Seeks alongside pain to render journeys not complete,
Nothing spared the test of essence per the world we walk,
Forged of jagged, scattered stones designed to scar our feet.


Premium Member Cat on a Leash

It was a perfect day, a sunny golden day.
I felt the gentle sweep of easy breezes,
the music of the wind.
It was my daily stroll around the neighborhood,
my daily clarity.

It was there, and then I beheld the cat,
the leashed Siamese cat, prowling and smelling.
A man clutched this leash, seeming absorbed,
seeming preoccupied by cat rubbing and sniffing,
cat prowling and surveying land and sky.

Never had I witnessed a leashed cat.
This was a way we controlled and humanized dogs.
Cats were always wilder, less human, and freer.

My usual steps brought me nearer to 
the cat on a leash. The owner had his back to me,
he seemed unaware of my approach.
But Siamese cat offered me a predatory stare,
ready to pounce on my flopping shoelaces.

I knew then my shoes were doomed,
my laces would soon die.
	         No, I couldn’t stop laughing.

afternoon stroll

afternoon stroll

I walked into a landscape painting made of chlorophyll 
in eleven variations, and there were no adolescent  girls
around suffering from sclerosis, but did see a pale face
in a car driving by, cattle string incomprehensively at
the painting
the heaven was pale blue with hasty brush strokes 
of fondly white painted looking like the top crest of
waves gone astray, petrified by loneliness
Rocks too, were green as decaying teeth and sheep
shorn looking ridicules and ashen among verdant
olive trees 
As the sun was about to hibernate and night cast
shadows on the silent stage, colors evaporated 
I thought of Saddam Hussein, already forgotten
had a daughter who loved him, saw him as tragic
a figure fighting the occupiers
This teaches us one needs not to be saint to be
loved

Premium Member Morning Stroll

Morning Stroll

Said she to the dog on its leash
while enjoying their morning stroll,
“I could put a treat on your nose
so as for me to shake your paw
and sing softly to your little heart
‘til you can’t resist the urge but to howl.

“Or I could tickle your belly
just to watch as you roll over,
or I could scratch behind your ears
and whisper sweet nothings in them
that we’d share together with the air,
as friends sometimes will do when in despair.

“But no matter where we venture,
with you wagging your tail and nose
to the ground, sniffing at this and that,
you’ll still be on the leash, dragging me home.”

A stroll in the garden - Haikus

sits a little swift
amidst violet flowers ~
flying bud on tied fly

mesmerizing tune
in the midst of blaring horns~
magpie Robin sings

long train swiftly moves
without a loco pilot~
trail of busy ants

engrossing odor
nearby sewage mess reek~
pure white flowers bloom

a pleasant moment
in the mid of worldly stress~
birds relishing pool

a rainbow springs up
in the monotonous life~
colorful flowers bloom

my plain flat pulse rate
embraces bright buoyancy~
perky squirrels roam

colorful jewels
walks around the fallen leaves~
cute centipede crawls

a bright beaming mouth
amid the slanderous words~
divine dawn Chorus

true hope emanates
even after failures hit~
a barren tree sprouts

a joyful write up
amidst the arousing thoughts~
stroll in my garden

Premium Member Midnight Stroll

and I wandered under the stars
the balmy taste of wind on my lips
a whimsy of love in the air
just a few notes unrecognizable
tickling the nape of my neck
that’s when loneliness embraced me
the lover I recognized in the night



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

To Stroll The O's

To Stroll The O's, .... Park's Journey's, ... Wide!

Enough's Our Beat Of Strength And, .... Might!

Seaside stroll

A leisurely stroll along the shore ,so grand ,
Left my footprints in the sand .

Sublime sea and summer 's breeze
Moments to savour ,my mind at ease.

The sun sinks into horizon ,a spellbinding scene ,
My happiness beyond measure ,so serene .
Waves rise and fall,so eternal 
Their sounds ,rhythymic and lyrical 

I ran  towards the  waves with glee,
 waist-deep ,sands   slipping free.

 Against  the tide,  courage I find ,
 A dance with nature ,my heart and mind .
 Sailors surf   with cheerful motion 
 seashells  whisper,in action 

My   Fulfilling  moments ,cherished long ,
  A beachside symphony ,a nature's   song .

Premium Member After Hours Stroll

Midnight  boom town  streets have this allure
imagining an uncanny venture
eavesdrop veil surround but dark as coal
how I love my after hours stroll

Secret worlds unfold their impish plot
mesmerised entanglement a tiered whatnot
black crush velvet  sky we must extol 
how I love my after hours stroll

Gilt  fantasies that  float across each lane way
fluorescent  gremlin from some ghostly  parking bay
gust on salt ice pier might buttonhole
how I love my after hours  stroll

Snow clad mall whistler gaffe prone 
while wandering the ink hue urban zone
a chapter lift and snatch from begging bowl
how I love my after hours stroll

Traffic signals  stellar  stoic stance
heartbeat of nocturnal moonlight dance
frozen digit signage reeks of twinkling North Pole
how I love my after hours stroll

Premium Member A Stroll through the Garden

I stroll through the garden of delight,
Where fragrant flowers scent the air.
Each one a different hue and sight,
Each one a gift of nature's care.

I breathe in the sweet scent of gardenia,
A melody of citrus-floral blend.
It soothes my soul like a symphonia,
A white blossom, a harmonious friend.

I marvel at the lily of the valley,
A bell-shaped beauty, a graceful sight.
It fills my heart with joy and glee,
A fresh embrace, pure and light.

I inhale the rich scent of jasmine,
An exotic spice, sensual and bold.
It stirs my senses with passion,
A star-shaped flower, a story untold.

I unwind with the soothing scent of lavender,
A herbal balm, calming and mild.
It eases my mind with wonder,
A purple charm, nature's child.

I smile at the romantic scent of rose,
A classic love, floral and bright.
It warms my spirit with its pose,
A red symbol of the dove's flight.

I stroll through the garden of delight,
Where fragrant flowers scent the air.
Each one a different hue and sight,
Each one a gift of nature's care.

Sub Categories

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

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