Waggling Poems | Examples

GEMUT APOCALYPTICUS

GEMUT APOCALYPTICUS

Terrain to thy welcoming, clapsing
As the sky in fear of the rage, gasps
Oh to devour the devourers tasking
Prepared for thee Oh apocalis

The blue in time so lovely
I could feel the touch firmly
On the contour to thine rays
To light the path to thine rains

It's about time she smiled
To the spat tornado filed
At the shooting of a rock star
About the end to make this war

Vent in the anger roaring
To the spiteful will of war
As it rolls down ocean of wants
To the desires that can't be quenched

You asked for love, It offers hate 
Asked for peace , offers war
Asked for flower, offers it with viper
Wrapped it in the vase of its casing

Who will tell the sky?,  enough!
Who will say to Leviathian, rot!
To the waggling of its bumps 
As it rolls the sea over its bits

To archaic! Lost battle to strength 
To witty! Lost wars to the wise
The rolls of anger set lose await
Yet the world will not remain same.

Caress the earth in her warmth
Don't consume her in her rage
Make her a better place to her hosts
Her end shouldn't be the heart of apocalypse

Stories of Missionaries

Missionaries were cunning
Not less than a cat’s eye fixed on a meal with a waggling tail
Curiosity extended in those that heard them speak.
With a thorned crown of dead porcupine.
A pagan king and His ignorant servant standing taller than palm trees
Leaning forward like a falling tower to its knees.

”Story tellers.”

They bring stories on what lies beyond your majesties' kingdom.
A routine of tales sang under a silver silent moonlight
It was Entertainment at a day’s end of a successful hunt.

The tales told to kings articulated volumes of curiosity
As the red fire flowing its light on curious faces, 
The missionaries had learnt to tread softly
Not less than a cat’s eye fixed on a meal with a waggling tail
And so they carried on and drew mass crowds in this likeness.

Little Red Kite Nursery Rhyme

Little red kite,
little red kite
It's  sunny and bright
Fly high in the sky
Fly low in the meadow.

Little red kite, 
little red kite
Let’s chase the sunlight
I’ll hold your string
And make you swing.

Little red kite,
little red kite
So cute and light
I love your ruffled tail
Waggling like a whale
Moving up and down
To the left and to the right.


15 April 2021

For " Nursery Rhyme 4 Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Eve Roper
1st place

Conducting An Imaginary Orchestra In the Passenger Seat

i've seen it several times
someone motioning, flourishing
waggling, swinging, curving
hunching, moulding, stooping
pulling shapes, a twirling
a form, a delineation, shadows
fingers, tree branches, winding creeks
sometimes a head inclines 
obstructing the cityscape
what are they listening to?
what are they talking about?
we've done it, we've become greenwood
sometimes a jungle
i've done it alone after dropping you off 
cold storage becomes publicised 
i've done it
i've done it, yes, i've cried in
the car 
alone

Kite

KITE                                                             

             Graceful buoyant in flight
             Me the black-breasted Kite
             Broad in structure, yet body light.

          Loner am I, love to soar high
          Slowly steadily waggling flapping
         long narrow angled-back wings 
         with notched tail to propel
        gliding swooping on kinetic dive.
        
        On insects, rodents, reptiles I wish to thrive
        mostly alive.
       Sometimes snails for a break.
       Slow-moving creatures at stake,
        cannot escape.
   
      Expert to pick up prey
      with wavy-edged mandible beak
     at the very opportune moment
     directed by my sharp keen eyesight.
      Me the black-breasted Kite.
                                          

  07/27/20
                                                                   Third Place
   'I am a Bird- Personification'  Contest by Tania Kitchin

Spanish Guitar

When will she learn to play, to rise the spirits?
Ancestral spirits yearn for the old glories -
Where forth the strength occupies vacuum;
Despair filled it well!

Let's dance to the sonorous voice of the strings
Let it call out the feeble days
Renounced with a tether that blows the mind
Shattered it seems - the fire
The lights it shire!

Let's dance to the rhythm
Waggling tails
For hunger of it, our souls cry out for!

Daydream

I once had a dream,
Of a paradise wide,
Under the blue, hue sky;
Over the green grass dry,
Wishing past as the turquoise stream.

I once had a dream,
I was a silver knight on a unicorn white,
Soaring above a red, jet kite;
Unto a far-fetched coast, waggling` Goodbye’
Wishing past as the turquoise stream.



7-9-19
Free Verse or Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Image No. 1

Hanging Around

In Granny's backyard
I'm hanging around
upside down
from my favorite tree
making funny faces
at my cousin, while we
try not to laugh
because down below
the circle of grown-ups
hardly know
or have forgotten
we are here

So we hear
all the choice gossip
as the older women
snap their green beans
with enjoyment keen

They cackle and squawk
rowdy, raucous
laughing talk
flapping and waggling
large wing-like arms
like a flock of hens roosting
on metal lawn chairs
not feeling the stares
of me and my cousin
enjoying the show
finding out all kinds of things
and colorful words
we wanted to know, but
would never have heard
down on the ground!

Wee Willy Wagtail

I wish I was a wee Willy Wagtail.
I've always wanted a tail to wag,
and Willy, really struts his stuff, just so. 
With a wiggle waggle
a parry, on garde, touché!
"Now that's a Tail!"

Willy Wagtail is willy-nilly, with attitude!
Flitting onto branch or wire
waggling his tail all about,
so bossy and belligerent.
"Hey what's your game?"
"Can anybody play?"

New Years Resolutions

I would like to remember 
what it feels like to dance,
as I shuffle through streets
devoid of romance. 

Shimmying and shaking
Grooving and gyrating
Wriggling and waggling
Bopping and banging.

Perhaps I will discover 
the rhythm of soul,
the flow of jazz,
the moves of funk.

I may find hip-hop
stomping on a street,
or run into ballet
bouncing to the beat.

Ballroom might chacha
while swinging with salsa.
Foxtrot might samba
while rocking with rumba

I would love to spend
the coming year
dancing around people 
without any fear.

Dancing with myself

16.12.2016

Moment In Time

Photographs are time machines to the past.
Instant moments in time reflecting back to current eyes.
A street scene of Boston is hung on my wall, a moment sliced
out of time from 1893.

Trolley cars side by side waggling down the street.
Ladies clothed from the sky to the ground bustling around town.
The gents of the day striding along suited with the clicking of their canes.
Horses pulling carriages, delivering produce, moving people here and there while leaving earthy aromatic gifts all around.

Trees in the park that are still there today, leaving shadow memories on the ground.

Each and every person in the scene has a story to tell, they each lived
their lives to the tune of the day.

Each started that day, one day in their lives, they loved, they laughed, they cried and they cheered at the game.
Children in the park running playing just the same.

All gone now, just a moment long past.

Little knowing this moment of their existence would be captured and hung on my wall as a testament to their brief moment in time.

Valentine's Day

St Valentinus honoring day
I was pompous since a week
Lovers feast with kisses in hay
But eventually Despair strong and love meek

In shadow, no surprises
Blatant thoughts got me carried
Heart melted like melancholy hospices
Either I can b in love, or I can be married

It was just a day dated fourteen
I did my usual chores in saunter
Though he could have expressed umpteen
My tongue waggling in banter 

Nevertheless hopefully for the next year valentines
Surely my husband will propose, singing love hymns.

The Minotaur

In the tunnel, cobweb-stricken and dank, a rat skittered to and fro, hitting his shoe as if drunk. The cockroaches joined in, slicking the floor with a beetle-black sheen. Unable to keep his footing he slid to his knees and, cursing his misfortune, he cried out loud,"where the hell am I? God rid me of this mess!" as the roaches covered him with a shroud of wriggling toes and waggling antennae. He staggered to his feet, brushing off the bugs, and placed his hands flat against the wall, feeling his way to the only source of light, a flickering candle on a mat, sticky with melted wax. The light brought into view a huge oaken door. He could barely pull the door ajar, and when he did, he caught a sign thereon which read, 'Beware all ye who enter here.' "Aaargh!" he groaned, "what the hell have I gotten myself into now."

...to be continued

Waft My Wonderful Words To My Waiting Woman

waddle along wise women
whisper this wayfarer’s wishes
with will and warmth
wind your way- waggling wheels
whiz this way and wear my wit to my wiry wonder

wiggling wave wash my wits
weave my words like a wreath
and wedge them on my winsome would-be
wag my wealthy words whirling wind
waft my wonderful words to my waiting woman

A Tap-Dancer

I saw a tap-dancer with
Squirming sheaf of vigor
Toes tapping as if dancing.
Is he hoping for a rendezvous?
His Dachshund-clan romance?
Prancing around like ponies
With gentle nose, silent eyes
With sweet licks and nuzzles.
Care free clan, if they like it
It can never be of anyone else.
If they take it anything from anywhere
It’s theirs and of nobody else’s.
The four legged hairy puppets
With all the fascinating features.

I don’t think a dachsie thinks of money
Or fame or other worldly pleasures 
But thinking of the pure love of God
Remembering always those moments
By waggling his tail with pure love and joy.
When He made him to brighten up
The day of Adam and Eve and then
Christening them as “dog”, a reflection
Of His own as one looks into the mirror.

January 20, 2015
Form : Free verse
Contest:Dachshunds

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