Rolling with the "R's" Sponsor: Nette Onclaud 8-4-25 Title Chosen: Rhythm of the River
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Rhythm of the River
River
Rhythms boogie
Rollick in white waters
Ebbs then flows around mica rocks
That sparkle with alluring fool's gold
Arabesques over waterfalls
Tumbling mists ~ lacy veils
Pulsing ~ dancing
River
As summer exits – stage left
Shall we afford it a standing “O”
Bask in the fireworks of its bounty
Weep for the hoar frost tinged roses
Shall we long for one more breath of heat
As tans fade on our bus stop children
Laugh at the faceless pumpkin gatherings
Run through the “pick your own” orchids
Will we bid adieu to a dimming sunshine
Chase our shrinking shadows through dry grass
Rollick in the too soon crisp of leaves
Gaze at the arrow tips of geese
Let us sit and tell our stories
Of secrets shared when summer’s gone
Cub with Mom
Soft- skinned snow white Mom- sheep
wth its cub in deep sleep.
At morning both woke up.
Mom and cub ran swift sharp.
Through bushes both to peep.
and ran but the cub slipped.
Mom rushed to hug baby,
licked the little cute ewe.
Cub closed its eyes in glee.
coiled like ball : woolly.
Both playing free frolic
rolling random rollick.
In rapture sheep to dance.
Reckless ewe starts to prance.
Jumping joyous crazy
Mom cuddled, got busy.
Mom clasped cub being pleased
Ewe sucked udder at ease.
Me walking on the lawn
amused to watch at dawn.
Rain poured the night before
Reviving cobblestone
Ribbons round tambourine
Rollick, she kept ringing
Response of the peasants
Remarkable impact.
Ray of blush on her face
9/2/2023
Which American does not know great Tony Stark?
An industrialist tycoon like strapping shark;
Born with silver spoon in his mouth; noble bequest!
Lived luxurious life one considered blessed...!
Afghan enters his life; like virus in robot;
Terrorists kidnap him; force him to weapon-plot;
He builds his sly armor; makes his vanish easy;
Plays ploys; Shifts into iron man; tough, yet, frenzy...!
Cocktails and women beauties; Romantic, yet firm;
Juvenile play-boy; yet, strict to mercantile term;
Not lonely though alone; full of fun and frolic;
Midst accomplishment of tasks, he has his rollick...!
Pushed to misuse his invention of iron-man,
Virtuously he dismantles his harm-filled plan;
Splaying bundle of freedom virtues and vices,
Tony Stark is an epitome of guises...!
01 July 2022
Captain America's Friends or Foes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Spring Garden Party
Spring’s garden party
Bright poppies dance with lilacs
Pink crocus frolic
Fields of yellow mustard sway
Frisky paperwhites rollick
3-4-22
Contest: Springtime Beauty Tanka Contest
Sponsor: M.L. Kiser
They fling, frisk and frolic across my mind
one breath two breaths so on so forth
They romp, revel and rollick enshrined
one thought two thoughts so on so forth
They jink, jovial and joyful light as air
one idyll thought after another in my nest
They bounce, beg, behold without a care
perusing in my loft without a quest
They mate, mesh and move into me
one breath two breaths I let them flow
They sit, settle and seduce me their free
empty as a shell I yolk them, then let them go.
September 16, 2021
Sponsor : John Lawless
Contest Name: Idyll Thoughts
Marceau leans on air.
His ethereal stage, a muse.
Walls and limits come and go.
Rubber, his body
knowing what it wants.
His muscle’s tale born
in luster under polished light.
Each spectator becomes a believer,
each observer willingly accepts,
how hands make intangible dimensions,
how legs scale vaporous stairways.
You should never ask what they saw.
This myth maker made by
his allegory.
This illusion maker made by
his parable.
The converts so silent in
their seats.
The stage of rollick,
while viewers undergo the idyllic.
He ends
knowing each convert summoned their
symbolic order.
He ends
relying on collective unconsciousness.
He finishes
aware his act exists
only in the mind
of each beholder.
They cry through open caves,
plunge behind last raised wing.
What crashes into them
is the oceans voice beheaded.
They rollick on the verge
of a rise and fall.
Indoor cats stare out of windows
as heckling seabirds tumble and dive
for shadows of sleek iridescence.
Those hunched upon the land
hear a kraken call
made small,
a throaty ravening,
couched within the seas rolling tongue,
where the free freely hunt
the already captive,
the almost caught.
Mist veil in haze, winter unwraps,
A rejoice raptures in reverie of spring.
Amber gold touch of Midas perhaps,
Bees and frilled petals in amorous cling.
A mystical harmony of beauty serene,
Magnolia and tulip, hum for butterfly.
Honeysuckle vines, squirrels in between,
Yellows and purple, rose cheeks feel shy.
Like peacocks bloom, begonia and pansy
Palettes of color, lush in vibrant green
Perfumed breeze...cadence lily in daisy
Petunia with marigold, in rollick are seen.
On canvas of soil, lyric paints a picture,
Sprouting prose...to poetry and sonnet.
Sowing seeds of love, Man nurtures Nature
In pride of his sweat, plants glitter on it.
The harvest of hoe, conjures a treasure
In Glory of Garden, life is born to grow.
Landscape of spring, is short-lived pleasure
Maxim of death,.. in summer.., do they know?
20th February 2019
Submitted to Garden Poetry Contest
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
R-est while on vacation,
U-sing a resort to frolic;
T-ired and burned-out body
H-as to skylark and rollick.
Y-ou rest while on vacation,
O-n the fifth of September;
S-tart to bask in a fine place
O-f the summer or winter.
Y-our heart, mind, and soul need to enjoy relaxation;
A-im to have fun and play, rest while on vacation.
She's all alone,
having left her parent's home;
a free bird, a truant, a hobo she's,
who couldn't stand discipline anymore!
She loves aho to rock, rollick, gyrate
and ball to thy rhythm and rhyme O' poet!
But lo, so tender she's, the language bud.
Tend her with little, little sprinkles sweet
of nectarine muse till blossoms full
in to a flower with dripping deluges of honey.
Be a true poet...sensitive, sensible and sensuous...
make love with her to make her happy...
All this care and caution I have to say O' Poet,
since I know of those Professors
and grammarians,
who try to rape.
Late September the hills ring with bellows
as stags roar their challenges with gusto
collecting up the does into large herds
ready to give battle to the very death.
Walkers be wary as you too are an intruder
many have been pierced by their sharp antlers
The nine pointer in his full prime paws in anger
this is his land he is master of all he peruses.
No tolerance for the young contender
they briefly spar and the youngster flees
it is not yet his time maybe in a year or two.
The master stag bellows out his triumph.
A rustle in the undergrowth, and a loud crash
heralds the arrival of another stag in his prime
they meet with a ground shaking crash of antlers
locked in mortal combat they fight for hours.
The ground ripped up and red with their blood
they struggled back and forth, neither yielding
The challenger now weakened gives ground
as with a final clash he turns and limps off.
The master roars out his victory of this day,
gathering up his does takes them to water.
It will be his sperm this year that is carried on
His fawns that will rollick and frolic the meadows
From down here to a place afar
Let's travel to a sparkling star,
Hop on a UFO and dump our car
To romp and rollick on the star.
In the realm of galaxies and black holes
Let's playact some stellar roles,
You be an angel and I the sly devil
And forge another world on an anvil.
We will wander around the milky ways
And explore the by lanes and highways,
And survey the handiwork of God -
Is it a masterpiece or just slipshod?
On our way back home astride
A shooting star or a cruising asteroid,
Let's wash up and dress our best
On the moon to wine, dine and fete!
The funny rollick of kittens at play,
the whispered hush, I hear snowfall say.
Puddles to splash in, fires to warm by.
That heart tugging pull of a newborns cry.
Are but a few things that will come to mind,
while breathing deeply, trying to unwind.
After a day of chaos and stress,
I let my mind go, to the things I like best.
A child learning to eat spaghetti,
lots of napkins, fork at the ready.
A momma bird at the nest feeding her young.
The song of bird when a new days begun.
You can't help but smile at these things,
with the images, the thoughts of them bring.
Just close your eyes to see, smell and feel,
the happiness, so vivid and real.
Paula Swanson
11/4/11
For the contest; Write Me A Happy Poem
Sponsored by Francine Roberts
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