Warily Poems | Examples

Blue Fox

The fox slopes warily into the garden,
a sapphire dawn overlay's and
sheens his form.

He trots across
a snow powdered clearing
head low, electric whiskers
seeking trace and track.
Crystalline eyes
turn toward a window
where I watch between
aquamarine icicles.

A white speckled snout
wrinkles in sudden awareness.
A quick curious stare,
then off he vaults
over a frost jeweled fence,
a bristled tail whisking
diamond flecked snowflakes -

blue diamonds.

USPS Stamps Poetry Contest

To have your picture on the face of a stamp,
Is a honor reserved for the ones who cultivated change
Among the mèlange of inspiring faces,
Lays the face of someone who served on the basis,
Of freedom

Behind a small black and white picture,
A mighty face lays
With eyes of a fighter,
eloquent hair, neatly parted
The words, 
Black white
Trust danger
Defiance hope
All line the bottom
Words of hope, words of courage

That picture is of a strong willed soul
Oh what a wonderful life, one bloke stole
Late at night, she deployed her clandestine runaway
With peers, she warily walked, not knowing where she was destined

Little did she know,
She would make this trip many times again, not knowing what each bestowed
Harsh winter nights, where the breeze grew as cold as coal,
She walked, walked and walked
Till’ days grew into the lines of a bole

She is a freedom fighter
She is a activist 
She is a mother
She is a motivator
She is Harriet Tubman

Usps Stamps Poetry Contest - 07/04/25
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori

Admonitions Concerning Poetry Competitions

Tasks, by their very nature
are often painful to perform.
Polysyllabic pedantry exacerbates undertakings unnecessarily.
Strict contest-runners rate your
adherence to the stipulated norm.

Would Robert Frost perform feats
of wordplay? Or leave forsaken
such boring chores?  I airily
dare opine this, for Keats,
is the road not taken.

Like rednecks have their gun,
and German shepherds have muzzles,
one posits, all too warily,
that poets need their fun:
like doing harmless crossword puzzles.

On Stopping To Sniff A Dandelion

I believe, I may have missed the boat
The water’s deep, I couldn’t float
Perhaps the marks I set weren’t high
The tide’s in now – I’ll wave bye-bye

I read Thoreau and Frost, I know
Of wilderness and falling snow
Of Roads Not Taken tongue in cheek
Of singing trees and babbling creek

With pomp and ceremony flyin’
I stopped to sniff a dandelion
To watch a honey bee rejoice
At making such a tasty choice

I sit beside the croaking pond
A heron blending with the frond
A muskrat watches warily
A dragonfly upon my knee

My pants are frayed, my kayak weathered
I share my time with furred and feathered
Visiting these woods, their home
Leave them, as I came, alone

dark of night

It was a warm balmy night very peaceful
the woods slept soundly the moon shone 
In the quiet stepped out a unicorn flowing
silver mane it paused sniffing the air warily

Satisfied it started to cavort around gayly
soon a stag joined in and a fairy both dancing
They called to friends to join in all stepping high
Dancing and cavorting they continued  till dawn.

They then went their separate ways only hoof
marks showed they were ever there people 
puzzled over marks and shook their heads
Yet on the next moon lit night they returned.

And for many nights they cavorted with glee
Waiting for something to appear still waiting
then a star beamed down and prettily she
came touching noses with her mate then

They vanished back into the undergrowth
leaving all wondering if they ever or not
had been there at all.

Sun Conures

Sun Conures

Brazilian blue bliss
from hot savannah rise these
squealing screechers then 
land so near me peering through 
whited eye rings warily.

Faces

Worn out faces
In destitute places
Weary eyes
Peer warily at skies
Wavering lips
Where leaves crunch like chips
Wandering hearts
Slowly ripped apart
Whimsical memories
Beneath the surface simmering
Whispers bitterly
Breaking constraints of liberty
Waking to what is true
When some always knew
Wasting our life
On that which brings us strife
Whimpering howls at the moon
Will it all be over soon
Wondering if the last days
Will be spent in a haze
Weary eyes 
Peer at skies
Worn out faces
In destitute places
We may be out of time
And that is our crime

Whistleblower

I’d rather be a whistleblower
Fighting for the right
Then just another thistle grower
Plucking out of sight

A whistleblower blows to be
The keeper of our crimes
A thistle-mower painfully
Is catching hell at times

The whistleblower wants to break
The folk who fake on us
The thistle-grower wants to make
The poke redeem the pus

Oh cautiously but selflessly
The whistleblower blows
Oh warily but carefully
The thistle-grower goes

The whistleblower fearlessly
Is fanning freedom's flame
The thistle-grower tearfully 
Is plucking just the same.

Soggy Seas

The seas today were not a short, sharp chop
but were syrupy soggy soft like black treacle, 
clinging to the hull like on a spoon, clutching and sticky.
Warily I sailed on, aware of the tenuous tug
and drag of deception in the compliant welcoming.
I, as an alien in the wetness of sea,
knew that the warm softness of the seas's clutch and cuddle
may belie a hidden tumult,
a change of face
on the whim 
of a mere breath
of wind.

A Life Recovered

A life recovered from Stygian depths
tainted by the horrors of dark abyss.
He falters as he takes one thousand steps, 
		a life recovered.

Pale sunlight stippling through with warming bliss, 
luminescence he warily accepts,
burning too brightly after his darkness. 

There is a shortening of his sharp breaths 	 
as stark reality he soon percepts
that forces him from his grim regrets,
		a life recovered.

Morning's Majesty

violin strings sing
      flutes trill merrily

    gray skies recede ~
      fawn peeks out warily

A Quiet Place

I drift
into this quiet place
the river silenced
by the shade of trees.
The Blue Heron
knows not of my presence,
a doe and fawn
sip warily,
a hawk waits
high in the pines.
Adrift
I find my quiet place
in the midst of theirs.

©7/16/2022

A QUIET PLACE Poetry Contest

Marauders In the Night

Wolves wander warily 
Warring strength in moonlight
Watching warm skinned bodies
Weakened with chilling sight 
Waging teeth, mouths water
Wakening woeful fright
Mortal wounds with death’s bite 


March 20, 2022
In Search of Prey Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May

Pride of Place

Mum's snap beams on the hall as a nudge of eagerness.
The serenity of the shore sparked glorious heedfulness
Yet when I deem warily, truth seems to become ageless
The waves shift as the light shines through the dimness. 

A little girl remains amid sand-covered greenery. 
Her quivering hands grasped a fistful of sublime confetti
The subtle art, with its vivid tones, bears a rosy tangibility
The rare sight of a little girl around the ocean is lulling me.



Written: January 23, 2022

Pride of Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward

Forgetting Life

The wind confides its loneliness, 
Whispering cold to each naked cheek.
A measuring spoon of stillness against 
Each sound we swallow.

Nary a force in the universe can bring back 
A lost thought. Life’s flame bending softly to 
The touch of every thoughtful, thoughtless breeze. 

Like the first snow we cling to every passing moment. 
Warily, one by one, as the weeks roll heavy onward, 
Like ripples on the water, footprints in the snow,

Or the fainter sound of a drum that beats 
Inside the heart of us all

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