Tiptoed Poems | Examples

Bewitching Pool

she shed her clothes and tiptoed to the water’s edge
the moon bathed her pink skin, showing the lightness of her backside
faeries and elves pretended to sleep, but felt delighted
in the corner of a shadow a watcher stared, mesmerized and intrigued

she took out a spell book and read an enchantment.
The water began to move and bubble; it looked like it was boiling.
hidden watcher was fixated on the witch, wondering at her prowess.
he did not hear the faeries or the elves, having little imagination.

cloud shadows crossed the moon, making the watcher look up.
He heard a splash, but the witch was gone. Had she jumped in?
He stared at the water for twenty or thirty minutes.
Expecting her to reappear, but she never did.

Was she an illusion? A dream? A sorceress? He stayed a bit longer.
It is the bewitching pool, one of the gnomes whispered.
But he did not hear, and was frightened by what he had seen.
Even more terrifying was what he had not seen.

The Silent Kiss

"For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." - beautifulnow.is
 
          Autumn tiptoed in after summer.
  I reminisce of the silent kiss 
she left as droplets on the delicate florets 
of one beautiful, bright chrysanthemum.
        Her early morning tryst went undetected
   until the evidence of it glistened
in the light of a sweet September dawn.

            I spotted that lovely mum blushing pink
from the visit Autumn made just before King Sun peeked down
       from his throne of gold on high in the brilliant sky
when he caught the goddess bidding a fond farewell
     to the flower she had been deliciously romancing.

Too many times to count has Autumn visited
     other flowers, leaving her fleeting touch of love
which puts a glow on their pretty petaled faces,
           but each of her kisses is evanescent.
In that moment I recall, one chrysanthemum 
             glowed most gloriously from the silent kiss.

I Want that World

Her throat is a reliquary of shards.
Every sob races through burial yards.
Her words erupt.

Surgeons laced her scars not the stare.
Scalding eyes ignited the trauma's flare.
Sympathy was bankrupt.

Someone baptized her in venom
the spit of patriarchy, cold and solemn.
Faith turned abrupt.

Sold over counters like candy for cowards
Hurled like rosewater, laced with hazards.
A love-rage concept.
She didn’t get strong but radioactive
Unceasingly culprit and the captive.
Conscience stayed corrupt.

Law wore stilettoes for penance
Verdict tiptoed through violence.
Mercy collapsed disrupt.

Tourists of virtue post flash ads.
Empathy filters through grief pads
Healing cycles interrupt.

"An eye for an will make the world blind"
I want that world..
where no one sees a face and think its mine,
where no one falls in love and claims it like land.

Let blindness bloom in the rocky terrain of laws,
where suffering is measured in grams and minutes.

MIDNIGHT MUNCHIES I'm in a Terrible Jam

MIDNIGHT MUNCHIES! I’M IN A TERRIBLE JAM….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At midnight, my stomach grumbled
With snacks in the pantry, I fumbled
     On the shelves high and low,
     Chocolate cookies. Say no!
But tripped on my cat and then tumbled!

Toward the fridge I tiptoed with glee,
For it holds a treasure trove for me.
     There's a jar of sweet jam, tight
     I’m stuck with tasteless yam, terrible plight!
With spoon and my cravings, an eating spree! 

Oh, the brownies were calling my name.
They ‘made me’ lose the dieter’s game.
     Each chocolate bite I took,
     My belly constantly shook,
Now my waistline will never be the same!

To Fly

A tiny run, then plunging up and away
from tiptoed feet that pushed and then released
from earth's constraint. How gently I essay,
and effortlessly - wonder is achieved!

In springing from the ground I've found my dream
with one knee slightly raised and balancing.
At times or with the wind do I careen!
But lo! Beneath, all things are silencing.

I'm drifting forward upward into space.
I peer below at buildings and at trees
diminished in their stature. I am grace
above them wafting hither in the breeze.

I ready and steady myself to downward go,
for instinctively I deem I must descend.
Anticipation - though - now starts to flow.
I know I can do magic again and again.

Reflections in the Sand

I'm in reflection again
a rear window spy
in the solitude
of speechless silence
at this hour, we are a poem, a cloud, no,
prints in the sand, where we went
when us was awakening like the mercies of a brand-new morning.
Across the brown beach, tiptoed,
as burrowing crabs dived, evading the wading birds-
mostly egrets, and the tides flared their nostrils
with the fanfaronade of prissy white brides
vanishing our trail

Beyond The Rusty Gate

“Such simple things in life
  can make it full and rife.”
                          _by Poet
The rusty gate was somehow left ajar;
behind, there lay a field of golden wheat.
Beside it, a dirt road- and not too far,
a log-house jewel made the scene complete.
I tiptoed close and heard her mutter sweet;
in shadow, girl with kitten caught my eye-
there rocking him to her soft lullaby.

Sierra a pet Lover

Sierra had a tiger in the kitchen
A raccoon lived in her sink
Her arms were always itching
Mite-infested, a heavy bumpy pink

She was allergic to her pets and pests
But they still slept in their cozy nests
Brutus, an orangutan was a character
He ate her marmalade with intentions pure

Sydney her rat snake often slept on her head
I always tiptoed softly when I got to her bed
She had chimps, horses and giraffes in her house
Spiders, vampire bats, a beetle and one mouse

Sierra had formerly had many rats in the past
But not anymore because they multiply so fast
Does she have bunnies? A friend asked me.
Last I heard, she was up to one hundred and three.

Rain

Picked up his coat— 
And umbrella 
Not forgetting his hat
(Oh! How much he loves it)
Dad tiptoed out of the room
Looking back;
Every single step. 
What’s he trying to see?
Maybe Louise— 
Or perhaps; me!

Where is he even going?
(In the rain)
I could guess less
He was too sullen— 
To notice I was awake.

There was another;
I don’t know him.
(This strange fellow)
All this while; he had been impatiently waiting for dad—
“Are you ready yet?”
He asked
Dad looked back at our house, 
One more time 
And nodded a “yes!”
He started walking—
So swiftly out of sight 
As though never to return 
And it was his last

Happy Nu Ya!

I tiptoed near the gulag
This eve of new year.
The gulag
Gagged like a grave yard.

I stooped
And waited.

Midnight
Ungagged the gulag.
I grinned
At the gust of "hapi nu ya!"

Unfurl Your Sails

Each fragile dandelion Orb of feathered, tiptoed seeds
Invite Curiosity's breath to loft your prosperous needs

Anchor away La Pinta, La Niña, cast off Santa Maria
Heave hoe your Astrolabe Star ward to map Nirvana

Sail well past your daunting precipice in daring abandon
The Perils of Earth's plate, let emptier thoughts imagine

Be bold.  Lift in weightless step.  Jump ship to board Apollo
Hitch a ride to wander in imagination the coming tomorrow

spooked by a Hoot

As a child at night, tucked up into bed 

counting sheep would never work for me 

counting only up to three

then drifting from my head 

An imagination Big enough

self-sabotaging dread 

a shadowed figurine 

with glowing eyes instead 

whistling gusts of wind 

the creepy creaking shed 

What if something hungry lurked outside

 looking to be fed 

its favourite snack was little girls, with ringlet curls

who wore Pjs colour red

scared but curious, I tiptoed across and carefully I tread

perching by my window

oddly sitting on the ledge 

was a creature looking back

tilting slow its head

A frightening hoot so loud

was why I spun around, and to my parent's room

whizzingly I fled

The Perfect Wife

I had a great time.

I thought as I tiptoed across the floor, afraid to crack the eggshells.

Feeling the warmth of the morning sun hitting my face through the curtain.

Hearing the soft sighs of sleep coming from our marital bed.

I had a great time.

Denial comforts me.

I had a great time I smiled.

As I wash the blood from between my legs and throw my ripped underwear into the trash.

I wonder what I have to make for our breakfast.

What fun we had last night

I had a great time I think as the bacon pops and tears stain my cheeks.

He wakes.

Wrapping arms around my waist and kissing me on my head.

I am a good house wife 

I think as I put his breakfast on a plate and sprinkle just the tiniest bit of antifreeze into his hot coffee

Won’t be long now.

Gosh what fun we had.

Naughty Tom

Tom was such a naughty kitty cat,
when he saw spike asleep on the mat,
came up with a plan, ever so sly,
he thought he'd sneak in and eat his pie,

Tom began to plot his little scheme,
tiptoed inside, hoping not to be seen,
but then he felt a sudden shock,
when closing the gate, he dropped the lock!

Hit poor Spike on top of his big paw,
so on Tom's tail he began to gnaw!
Off he ran, as he began to weep.
Next time he won't disturb Spike's sleep!

Mother Earth, the Sage

In the depth of the night, a concerto commenced,
With drums of thunder and a melody of rain.

Wind flutes played loud sniveling notes,
Carrying pulsating tunes in blustery tones.

Streaks of lightening, with their baton of light,
Led the blasting orchestra with dynamic might.

Trees swayed wildly, leaves scattered with force,
Rain soaked the paths, shattering dense shadows.

As dawn tiptoed, with the sun’s gentle caress,
Melodic whistles, cheeps and croaks took the stage.

Blue bonnets danced, greeting butterflies and bees,
Jays and cardinals capered under the radiant trees.

Hummingbirds frolicked around the buds of paintbrush, 
Grackles called out in an enthusiastic rush.

Scissor-tailed flycatchers hovered, tails unfurled,
Charmed their mates with their squeaks and chirrs.

Pinkladies and Firewheels in their spectacular array,
Welcomed the day, luring pollinators their way.

The storm disappeared, giving way to a tranquil zephyr,
Joyfulness prevailed, in awe of Mother Earth’s endeavor.

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