"gambols" poems
1185
A little Dog that wags his tail
And knows no other joy
Of such a little Dog am I
Reminded by a Boy
Who gambols all the living Day
Without an earthly cause
Because he is a little Boy
I honestly suppose—
The Cat that in the Corner dwells
Her martial Day forgot
The Mouse but a Tradition now
Of her desireless Lot
Another class remind me
Who neither please nor play
But not to make a “bit of noise”
Beseech each little Boy—
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.
Time,
space
and everything in between.
Heartaches,
tears
and secrets that don't come clean.
Gambols,
laughter
and smiles beaming keen.
Deep thoughts,
aloneness
and the dark places we've been.
Handholding,
careless hugs
and ready shoulders to lean.
Reckless stabs,
impulsive jabs
and caustic words we don't mean.
Contentment,
counting blessings
and hope we can glean.
*You,
me
and everything in between.*
.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonely mood
I’ve seen the winter floods their gambols play
Through each old arch that trembled while I stood
Bent o’er its wall to watch the dashing spray
As their old stations would be washed away
Crash came the ice against the jambs and then
A shudder jarred the arches—yet once more
It breasted raving waves and stood agen
To wait the shock as stubborn as before
—White foam brown crested with the russet soil
As washed from new plough lands would dart beneath
Then round and round a thousand eddies boil
On tother side—then pause as if for breath
One minute—and engulphed—like life in death
Whose wrecky stains dart on the floods away
More swift than shadows in a stormy day
Straws trail and turn and steady—all in vain
The engulfing arches shoot them quickly through
The feather dances flutters and again
Darts through the deepest dangers still afloat
Seeming as faireys whisked it from the view
And danced it o’er the waves as pleasures boat
Light hearted as a thought in May—
Trays—uptorn bushes—fence demolished rails
Loaded with weeds in sluggish motions stray
Like water monsters lost each winds and trails
Till near the arches—then as in affright
It plunges—reels—and shudders out of sight
Waves trough—rebound—and fury boil again
Like plunging monsters rising underneath
Who at the top curl up a shaggy main
A moment catching at a surer breath
Then plunging headlong down and down—and on
Each following boil the shadow of the last
And other monsters rise when those are gone
Crest their fringed waves—plunge onward and are past
—The chill air comes around me ocean blea
From bank to bank the waterstrife is spread
Strange birds like snow spots o’er the huzzing sea
Hang where the wild duck hurried past and fled
On roars the flood—all restless to be free
Like trouble wandering to eternity
3.7k
Oft, in the silence of the night,
When the lonely moon rides high,
When wintry winds are whistling,
And we hear the owl's shrill cry,
In the quiet, dusky chamber,
By the flickering firelight,
Rising up between two sleepers,
Comes a spirit all in white.
A winsome little ghost it is,
Rosy-cheeked, and bright of eye;
With yellow curls all breaking loose
From the small cap pushed awry.
Up it climbs among the pillows,
For the 'big dark' brings no dread,
And a baby's boundless fancy
Makes a kingdom of a bed.
A fearless little ghost it is;
Safe the night seems as the day;
The moon is but a gentle face,
And the sighing winds are gay.
The solitude is full of friends,
And the hour brings no regrets;
For, in this happy little soul,
Shines a sun that never sets.
A merry little ghost it is,
Dancing gayly by itself,
On the flowery counterpane,
Like a tricksy household elf;
Nodding to the fitful shadows,
As they flicker on the wall;
Talking to familiar pictures,
Mimicking the owl's shrill call.
A thoughtful little ghost if is;
And, when lonely gambols tire,
With chubby hands on chubby knees,
It sits winking at the fire.
Fancies innocent and lovely
Shine before those baby-eyes, -
Endless fields of dandelions,
Brooks, and birds, and butterflies.
A loving little ghost it is:
When crept into its nest,
Its hand on father's shoulder laid,
Its head on mother's breast,
It watches each familiar face,
With a tranquil, trusting eye;
And, like a sleepy little bird,
Sings its own soft lullaby.
Then those who feigned to sleep before,
Lest baby play till dawn,
Wake and watch their folded flower -
Little rose without a thorn.
And, in the silence of the night,
The hearts that love it most
Pray tenderly above its sleep,
'God bless our little ghost!'
3.5k
Acquiesce here my love
Ameliorate my heart
The assemblage of circumstance provides dulcet ebullience
An efflorescent dalliance conflated into cathartic becoming
My bucolic bungalow made upon your callipygous
A young Life’s denouement
Your evocative elixir fetching
An erstwhile emollient embrocation
Your eloquent fingers find their way to frisson
My felicitous chatoyant gambols in glamor like a halcyon incipient made ineffable by the look of the ingénue
The labyrinthine inglenook lagoon leisurely lithe
The murmurous daffodils wink at the insouciance of your beauty
A panoply panacea, the half shadow complete as an epiphany
Quintessential to feminine riparian resplendence
Your mellifluous voice, an opulent offing, the sumptuous summery soliloquy of an angel
Cools my soul like the smell of earth after rain
Your propinquity ripples the scintilla of my spirit
Your surreptitious smile like a zephyr quietly whispers
Its redolent seraglio sempiternal in my thoughts
As skyward gazes like saccharine gossamer lilt with the knowledge of our raveling juxtaposition
a masterful pastiche, the cynosure of divine revelation
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
The breeze in the air is redolent
And the heart gambols with glee
To the tintinnabulation of wind chimes
Ah, what sweet felicity.
The whispering of trees is mellifluous
As is the susurrous of floral woods
How salubrious is the efflorescence
Beside the ebullient babbling brook.
Old man winter is but fugacious
For I've stumbled upon my inglenook
I wake to the breath of spring
Oh, it's summer eternal in my book.
My cup now holds ethereal elixir
It's manna from the heavens above
I found you - ah, serendipity
If this isn't, then what is love?
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
We knew him well
his jest
most excellent
alas, not infinite
*Where be your gibes now?
Your gambols? Your songs?
Your flashes of merriment,
that were wont
to set the table on a roar?* (Hamlet, V.i)
We laughed,
we cried
amused and touched
Borne on your back,
anguish unspoken
Poor Yorick.
r ~ 8/12/14
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
Greate is thy Sin, since Sin is never Small:
And Monstrous Moles of Sin Call home thy Soule.
About their Mountainous Molehills they do Crawle.
Play thou (and win) a Game of Whacke-a-Mole.
Unto the Moles be Deadly as an asp.
Beware, take Care, nor Swat the pettish wasp.
The Harebrain'd Sinners Sins to him are toyes;
Theyre Entertainments, Gambols, Games with Dice.
The Madbrain'd Sinners Sins to him are joyes
Untill he's made to paye in full their price.
The Crackbrain'd Sin-addicted Scarab bug
That liveth but for Sin to Hell is Drug.
May 6, 2024
May 6, 2024 at 9:13 PM UTC
Here lies another black spot on the palm of my hand
which comes as no surprise to me.
I look and can see
Blind Pew,
gamboling away
as surely as the light gambols
through every second of each day.
Pew is me and mine
another ship of the line
a small dot on the radar screen
coming and going to places
I have been.
I wonder if Pew has seen them too
or imagined them in his dreams,
I'm not sure if he's blind but
one day will come when I capture him
taking a reading by the noonday sun
and then
I will know for sure.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
One day a year, we decide to be kind
To show our love for one another,to be pure of mind.
We laugh and smile, a day to rejoice;
Though is one day a year the only choice?
Why not be kind all year long,
Show your love and bliss to those you're among?
Can't we retain the better half of our humanity within our hearts?
If humanity consists only of this hypocrisy, I want no parts!
One day to show your love, one day to be pure;
Tis the truth, there is no cure.
We're destined to live in shambles,
To never experience true gambols.
It's sad to say, we're nothing but lies;
So I have one thing left to say: my final goodbyes.
Learn from humanity's mistakes;
Do not let your heart be filled with petty aches.
Love your life, so when you die
You may leave in peace, with a blissful goodbye.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
The Palette Poised
The palette poised
As if…….. some archaic ballroom
Oiled and smoothed by years of feint and flourish
Marks of previous jigs and gambols
Colors placed in magic sequence
Waiting for to dance and mingle
Stuart Williamson 2015 ©
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 2:52 PM UTC
Ahem. Rolling the first words of this sonnet over and over my tongue late Saturday afternoon--here it is finally
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXV)
Trash sidles 'long the weedy curb's detail,
To waltz out 'pon the blacktop, turning thence
And flipping oer to trip back for a sense
Of sheer caprice, and gambols through the pale
Dead grass 'til coming to a halt t'avail
My observation of likewise fr'intents
Some vague finale is't? Were dinner hence
Not keen on my attention, I'd have bail.
Yet come, are not we like this trash in tour?
So lifeless as the dead leaves Scripture to
Effect declares we are, forsooth. Winds stir
Our hapless selves akin to our vast crew
Of, lo: iniquities; to take us fer
All that far from Thee, LORD. O what's to do?
31Mar19c
"Seek the Lord, and his strength: seek his face evermore." (Ps 105:4)
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:21 PM UTC
Lift the lid of that happy thought
And joy and enthusiasm come bubbling from below.
Open the door to that new idea
And creativity and imagination begin to flow.
Pave the way for that dream still unfulfilled
And goals and projects tumble into view.
Press the trigger for that surprise event
And excitement and anticipation arrive on cue.
Hoist aloft that adventure yet unplanned
And childlike delight gambols gaily in.
Remove the veil of that peaceful, encouraging word
And gratitude breaks into the broadest grin.
Slam the door on worries and misgivings
And that cold tingle of stress will wriggle away.
Close the shutters to doubt and apprehension
And disquiet and anxiety will be held at bay.
Batten down the hatches against fear and dread
And pessimism and gloom briskly are dispersed.
Bar the way to suspicions and mistrust
So jealousy and resentment can't do their worst.
Seal up the access to anger and violence
And confidence and assurance will soon arrive.
Lock the entrance to malice and hatred
And peace and hope and love begin to thrive.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC