Whimsies Poems | Examples

Stir

Written: February 28, 2024
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Mayhem prevails as calm dries and stirs rise. 
A ruckus erupts as words and deeds blend.
Oh, the wrath, related storm, and squall size.
Building burning blaze, to draw in hearts trend.
 
Dance and bustle, spark the soulful lost fire. 
Wrath symphony loudly incites the crowd. 
Rumpus drew seeing their whimsies were dire.
Slashes and ripples, ruffled wings, brisk loud. 

Cloud voices, balk colder, fire with purpose.
Cyclone whirl, heat, and mayhem hurl the mind.
Through life, wards meet in a stirring service
Spoons, fluff, defiance, and keenness behind 

A spark of hope with all this lapse and strife. 
Grief may spark split, but it can propel life.

When The Sun Said No

The first chirp of the robin near my shut window pleaded
The blackbird, song thrush, chiffchaff, and pheasant pleaded as well.
The sunflowers, cornflowers, and marigolds that needed
Prayed for his help; he was as silent as a silent spell.

Fishes, amphibians, reptiles, and weak invertebrates
Hares, squirrels, owls, puffins, swans, geese, and willow ptarmigan
Lions, leopards, tigers, elephants, and monkeys with rude traits
Prayed; the cosmos seemed as though curled. The sun's silence went on.

As playgrounds were snow-covered, in gloomy moods, children prayed.
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and cousins called. He said:
When I was shining, your minds seemed seismically swayed.
Can't you, when I am cool, with your inner warmth, march ahead?

Winter's whimsies play vehement games on the sun, so sure
Which element of nature, without him, can their wounds cure?

My Covid Nineteen New Year's Eve Wish

To be swept higher and higher
On the breeze of a pink-salmon dawn
Troubles and cares?  Swishhh
All gone!

And what’s this?
I’m neither young nor old 
I’m eternal and glowing
Ecstatic and bold!

There’s a poor, 
Huddled family with no food on the shelves
But—Viola!  Here’s your banquet.  
Now, don’t stuff yourselves!

I see an old man in grief
His life’s nearly done
Presto-chango!
You’re young, so go out and have fun!

This New Year’s dream surely can’t last
The time for childish whimsies has long ago passed.

But—I’m still soaring with glee in a world so enchanted
My Covid 19 New Year’s wish
Has really been granted.

Georgehenge

The ancient stones stand silent 
As they have throughout the ages,
Keeping their seasonal assignments
As the world around them changes.

Thousands of years pass 
And old stones become forgotten.

Modern granite slabs arrogantly carved
With lessons of what should be learned,
Instead of those things best observed
Through spirit and nature, unadorned.

Stoñehenge steeped with ancient wisdom,
Georgia Guidestones misquided modern whimsies.

Melancholic Melodies

memories unfurling
on the shores of time
calligraphy strokes
tracing wild whimsies
of my yearning heart
curling frayed remnants
between the fingers of
forgetfulness forlorn
both glass slippers
vanished in the night 
love notes scattering
to feral autumn winds



AP:  Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on August 29, 2020 for contest SOUL SLIPPER sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN  -  RANKED 6TH

The Influence of God

Hold me in your eyes,
look upon me in tender interlude
embrace me in the center of your dawning light.
Let your essence speak
and whisper sweet nothings 
- or - stirring somethings
to my soul

the power and purity of your poetry thrills me!

Awaken my being with a new palette
of mellow musings
and watercolor whimsies.
Plant virgin taste buds to bloom anew
to taste life, as if, for the first time 
reborn, with a constant craving of never getting enough.

To make pearls out of grit
is to make sorrow and hardship a thing of beauty.

Moonwash

Wisping winds whisk whispered whimsies willows’ way. 
By the pond, we ponder potent possibilities posed by pollinated passions. 
As we divine dallying delights depicting developing days, 
Moonbeams mobilize to mob us on the mossy mound.

Tinted Glass Whimsies

Tinted glass whimsies 

Seductive slowly spun
kaleidoscopic pairings
changing in illumined awareness,
tinted glass whimsies

“How far can you bend the light?”

Sculpting temptation,
seeking colored fancies
in cylindrical designs
consistently different

“Do you dream in color?”

Mosaic contours flow,
prismatic burst of joy,
variegated vivid visions,
not alike another

“Is your heart the variable?”

Passion is vibrant
intensely hued brilliance
ever changing within
twisting and turning patterns

"Did you know sunsets could dance?"

Painting evening heavens
amethyst shades,
moonbeam reflections
woven in stardust eyes

“Nothing ever appears the same when you are in love” 


Good night Soupers

Nothing More Or Less

hid insecurities within
  ambiguous humor &
   convoluted whimsies,
rules consistently changing
 in a game which required
hardly more than breath,
  nothing less than obscurity
     twisting a fallible fancy, 
    seizing day's intangibility

Poetic Gist

Poetry is the air I breathe,
  lifeblood trickling 'tween
    luscious marrow in my bones,
existentially rooted crux reflecting  
Amen's utterances & hallelujah certainties
    'round reality's technical formalities
   foreshadowing furthermost prevalence 
       of comprehensive earthy assumptions
            & defining whispered whimsies, 
  exhaled betwixt sunrise's saturated ache 
     for fiery transpired virtual presence,  
        literally composed of complicit
  synchronicity resoundingly set ablaze
        mid expounded otherworldly desires

Boudoir Antics

He was poetically intolerant,
she thought herself an Emily
writing sonnets 'how do I love...'
he indulged her feeble whimsies
in light of other finessed talents, 
essentially, larks amidst boudoir's  
uncommonly emboldened expertise

The Gift of Prayer

Dear Lord,
I know the end is soon to come
My frightened heart beats like a drum

Past events in visual recall
In rapid succession I appraise them all

WAS this my life after three score and ten
The avariciousness of a thieves den

WAS this my life ignorant still
Low in Spirit and weak in will

WAS this my life a degenerate mess
Rejecting assistance with such casualness

WAS this my life filled with wanton delight
Nonsensical whimsies without any respite

Dear Lord, I want to cancel it out
Forgive me my sins in alarm I shout

Lost Sheep, YOU are my chosen one
Throughout YOUR meanderings a light has shone

YOU have faltered oft I know
But throughout each betrayal I have loved you so

YOUR cries for help have not been in vain
YOUR triumphs my loss, each confession my gain

YOUR deeds good and bad are in your eyes
So few of mankind do apologise

Love is YOUR gift on your sleeping face
Peaceful at last in my constant embrace



Theresa Stephens

The Big Green Bin

Glory prizes abound
when your heart shines like the sun.
But let's not get too gushy here.
Or cheesy. Or tacky.
Let's get real: you are your own best motor,
pluggging along towards a fostering joy.
These are facts not whimsies.
(I speak of whimsies in earlier texts,
when I observed fairies clinging to your earlobes
[if you only knew!].)
it's been a warm summer day in Seattle, sure,
and yes, I HAVE been in the garden most of the day,
cleaning gutters and pulling up grass 
my girlfriend isn't a fan of.
These labors lie along a path that leads
to a happiness.
The grim grime and flat-out guck,
you find it between the beauty.
You raise it up and tops it
into the big green bin,
amazed at the path you've found
right outside your doorstep.

Four Squared Towards Perfection.

EARTH:
 
Blossomed and beaten, then nurtured and tilled,
Burnished and buckled, soon blackened and chilled.
Partisan, personal, some conquered and fought for,
Torn down and built up, all bartered, yet paid more.

WIND:

From every corner they blow, shrill cadence and call,
The moist warmth of spring, the crisp cuddle of fall.
They will ravish the birds, they will ravage machines,
Wild whimsies of women who are caught in between.

FIRE:

He crackles orange glee what our passion remembers,
Popping scarlet orbs swiftly from footprints in embers.
All forms he has known from a cave mans' first shout,
He is quite lovely to look at, but truly deadly left out.

WATER:

Surging and crashing, cresting angry steel gray,
Receding and cleansing, churning vivid green spray.
Now becalming bright topaz, her skin liquid jewel,
She beckons the sailor and beguiles the brave fool.


All stood before time as steadfast witnesses would.
God creates, not abates. We can not. But HE could.

Elysium Lost

There have been many pleasantries
As a moppet over the years:
The countless summer night breezes
That whistled music in my ears;
Or lay supine and gaze above
At the moonlit star studded sky
And conceive my dreams undreamed of
As they emerged before my eyes.
But gone are those childish whimsies
Those were born of the wind and stars.
Gone are the musical breezes
That once filled those nights… au revoir!
Gone is that place where I once reigned
Yet in my heart it still remains.

• Short Whimsies Poems
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