"jauntily" poems
gulls and terns spin in the air
as waves lullaby the sleepy dreamers
with grand tales and rich promise of paradise to be
found just over the horizons edge
sailors eye to the swift wind
sure hand to tackle and line
hearty men of salted liquid soil
grown to giants in the breakwaters thunder
but gentle that hands heart
when the tolling bell calls out the names of the lost
and the sea has swept away all but her witnessed tale
to leave the widows and forlorn child to
carve name to wall and mourn
past midnight now
a dead calm
and cloudless sky reigns
with a majesty of brilliant starlight
upon this sea reflecting the heavens slow march
i lay like a supplicant muted by the spectacle
to souls hunger this moment and place
shows a deeper meaning to thouse souls with eyes to see
a dead calm
and cloudless sky reigns
with a majesty of brilliant starlight
the old salt sailor breaks into deep song
that sooths and lends hardy meal to the heart
hold fast young lad hold fast
the morning rushing forward brings
the breaking wave and unfolds sail with quick wind
and the sailors eye rejoices with
merry songs to measure the hour
and jauntily bring our fair seabird
back to her warm home
sea and sand in the salt sailors blood
and a kind heart guides the way
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Never stop and stay a night
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
For they say at the back of the cleaners room
There's a gateway in to hell
The drifts of dust with a dash of rust
Hide the prints of long dead feet
What once was plush now hangs decayed
The curtains torn and beds unmade
The worst of humankind had stayed
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
Walk away, should you ever stray
To the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
For its told an evil lingers there
No priest or witch can quell
The walls are strewn with satanic runes
There are evil clowns en suite
The bathroom tiles, black with mold
And tap heads dull with tarnished gold
But still the blood runs hot and cold
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
Not a soul survives the night
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
No single sign is left behind
Save a musty burning smell
The spiders leer, jauntily
And the mice all carry knives
There's scraping sounds amid the gloom
An Idol from an ancient tomb
With a poltergeist in every room
At the Mermaid's Foot Hotel
**
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
Joe Mole, Marnhull Danny
1974
His eyes were luminous steel blue, alive
with twinkling shards of mischievous fun.
His face, a weathered map of his long life:
brown and crumpled, carved by clean air and sun.
A grubby khaki flat-cap, jauntily askew,
bedraggled grey-green ancient jacket
secured with hairy binder-twine (calves too),
brown dungarees, muddy boots and thumb-stick.
His gruesome work was in grazing meadows
under attack from an invasion beneath
of unwelcome little furry fellows
destined to perish between steel-sprung teeth.
Tiny corpses hung in a row (job done)
on barbed wire like Joe met at Verdun.
A Danny was the name given to any man from the village of Marnhull in Dorset. The word was in common use locally during the 1970’s but is now rarely heard.
14 lines
(FBRSO)
Copywrite: Craig Andrew White,Author, July 2011.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 2:41 PM UTC
I lost a furry friend today:
A squirrel that often came to visit.
Can't the hawks go somewhere else?
That's not too much to ask, is it?
The squirrel would often sit in our tree
And wait for me to take it a treat:
Some grapes, some nuts, some whole wheat
Whatever the little beggar would eat.
Quite content, he'd chomp away,
Always vigilant and alert.
He didn't want to be another
Animal's dinner or dessert.
Sometimes my little visitor,
Hoping that I'd give him more,
Would jauntily prance up to my house
And stand on the steps outside my door.
Today the hawks were in the trees,
On the roofs and in the sky.
One flew off a while ago,
Carrying the little guy.
Couldn't the hawks just eat rats?
I guess that breaks some natural rule.
Nature--so grand and majestic at times--
Can also appear to be so cruel.
Instead of killing squirrels, why can't
Hawks--like vultures--feast on carrion?
Or better yet: why don't they try
A diet strictly vegetarian?
-by Bob B (8-30-18)
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
She sees left and right whilst upside down,
laughing in hysterics at idealistic semantics.
She jauntily journeys to and from small towns,
smiling dead smiles at boys being subtly romantic.
They all want her, the mean queen without a crown,
to be captured by one or another comely fellow.
They all see the lies, under painted makeup thick as a clowns,
she tells with those brown eyes shaded in true yellow.
I see her, my child, my dear, my eyes look around
shiftily calculating the great fortunes I would pay
to knot fingers in her hair, to hear her heart pound.
There she goes now, along on her merry way.
Not that I would join in all the lads attempting her heart,
for fear of the magnificent nothings I would say.
I imagine my presence would give her quite the start,
when she sees I'm true yellow, being born to be afraid.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
In the incandescence of this empyrean nocturnal rhapsody
A remarkably rare yet, aureate creature appeared before me
From nightfall until daybreak she smoothly crooned an infinite array
Of enamorous symphonies to which I naturally could not abstain
A subtle spark of ardency was cast upon my sauntering pneuma
Inundating me into a catalepsy of which I zestfully fancied
Her charisma suckered me in with ease, illuminating my euphoria
Masquerading my pervasive mourning, cauterizing it to ashes
Each lyric alleviates the suffering that I have so hazardously acquired
Every note speaks to me in a language unknown to the community
The tasteful euphonies that perspire, carefully assuage my heart
I raised not a finger nor did I enunciate a single word or syllable
Her musical prowess completely squandered me with passion
Jauntily I danced to the cadence of the beat scouring my veins
Ceaselessly I could bathe in the essence of her bubbling sound waves
Never shall this finely crafted music pause, It shall remain on replay
Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
Alluring me with your looks
Beckoning with your eyes
Changing my mind in a second
Dedicating your song
Enduring your love for me
Fascinating me in a way
Germinating in my heart
Habituating me for you
Illustrating your heart of love
Jauntily exposing for me
Keenly trying to make me a
Laburnum flower of yellow
Meandering around me with
Never ending love and lust
Oscillating me in your arms
Proposing with red roses
Quieting my heart beat
Releasing me giving oxygen
Slowly making me yours
Treating me like an angel
Ultimately surrendering
Victoriously claimed your love
Watching me falling for you
Xanthic flowers grow in me
Yaffingale bird making green
Zealously engaging me in you !
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
As this bird
After so long took jauntily to the sky
Once again
He held his head high in triumph
After so long being confined and contained
He soars gratefully
Majestically through the air
For perpetually he fell, contemplating
Why not?
Having been in despair
Imprisoned so long
It's all he knows
Today gravity shall not take him
Euphoria is counter-intuitive
And he falls up into the clouds
This bird did smile then,
at such a wondrous epiphany
Freedom
The torment was over
Replaced with magnificent opportunity
No longer will his song remain unheard
The melody of vindication
has permeated his body and soul
His relief a sigh
A new song fills his heart
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
i.
There are imaginations that are made of rust,
and they tend to rest on clothes lines and
spoil the rotting canary of mediocre dress.
Walk with me, because my pebbles cannot
settle against the dim of my breast pockets,
and so weary the sun tells me to strike upon
sweat laden cobblestone tears that chastise
who? You? Says he who comes stifled at my
feet, like an outlet man staring at fruits' chambers,
her wealthy, red string the last of his eyes!
Alas, what sure vagrant would kiss my fingers?
Is dignity the sour aroma of embarassment?
But let him come, when she turns her apple cheeks
to pray to the same head and God above.
ii.
The favorite jest of an arrow is to pierce a leg
while he jauntily catches the brow of his family.
The man will never saunter, nor amble in patterns
that reveals the flesh of a throbbing vein.
A young calf grows like the bluff of puffed cheeks,
and soon another, too--
together. His trousers will widen their stomachs;
his head the curious stew of bubbling concoction
that rise and decide not to evaporate in the air.
And someday, perhaps very soon, the fairest of
them all will chance and gaze into gallant eyes,
but brought down when he lowers the unidentified
color of glass. So be it.
His coins can jangle and fly to Shantou,
to Charleroi, circle around the perimeter
back to Sacramento. Ships move, yet the
infant steps of lead grow dim in development.
iii.
They say the wealthy family cannot last
for more than two generations.
They say a heart cannot last
its beating against another's,
if it be true.
iv.
Once, a man licked his fingers without even touching it.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 10:57 PM UTC
As usual, he was slightly elevated.
They had their roles, the boy on stage right
the girl on the beer-stained linoleum
beneath the red and blue strobes.
He, unconsciously dancing.
She, dancing self-consciously.
The boy sets his brow and takes his solo
masterfully, delicately, jauntily.
His secret is he makes it up every time
Her secret is that she already knows
the cartography of the next sixteen bars
as if it were her fingers on the strings-
that's the way it always is.
After five years, what could you expect?
The room cries out his name.
The girl quietly damns him.
Resents him for doing everything so
******* perfectly- his work, his genius,
and his worst offense of all:
having loved her harder
than anyone else will
ever be able to.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
He thought long and pondered why
Tricking snakes are composed of rose's vines
It's been once before he heard this rhyme
*"Can a clock truly erase the time?
When time is but a fabrication set in line
Midnight strikes once if we're lucky"*
..and he's heard the chime
He's saving grace, but who is it for?
An open window reveals the closed door
Sat alone with Poe, and the Plutonian shore
He never implied, yet yielded more
And wary now that once before
His heart had sung
But nevermore
He thought
'I must be in a dream.'
Doubting, feigning, proclaiming this obscenity
Yet still burns the daunting question..
*'Famed whisper, play with me.
Shame me, maim me, tame me,
let us cavort as cohorts
Ever so jauntily.
Daunt me, taunt me, haunt me,
take me gaunt and bare..
Bestow on me, throe on me,
unveil this absolutely there.
Now grant this plea, take my words with heed,
enchant this melody I doth hear.
Any jest would be cruel at best
For I truly hold this dear
Revive within what once has been
My faith in the unseen
I ask of thee, I do implore
Save me from this nevermore
Such a marvelous spectacle
N'er again vacate my receptacle
Adorn thyself as would a wreath
This world is formed of plastic
And porcelain
Yet there you sit
And breathe.'*
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
He slept as the waking sun approached
suspended in time and spaceless animation,
a man seeking to traverse the stars,
he died gazing with eyes of fascination
with a cigarette hanging jauntily from his mouth
and arms hastily folded,
surrounded with charred magazines and empty canteens
slumped, his skin heavily blistered and scolded
his last hours were that of beauty
lost in silence and subdued by its respect,
he knew his time was up
but of this journey he'd never forget -
*"It's just.. so.. beautiful, how can I not love these stars?!
To my left lies Earth, to my right glows Mars -"*
his ship a silver bullet plummeting towards the pulsing sun
the tragedy of his voyage forever embedded into everyone's minds,
a shadow soiling the pride of humanity,
a catastrophe that we simply cannot leave behind
#BOOM#
#CRACK#
#FLASH!#
feeling infallible we found nothing but failure
yet through bitter determination we still try,
preparing for another man to be sent in the Lieutenant's footsteps
knowing indefinitely that he could die
"LIFT OFF IN... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1 -"
pathetic, egotistic
desires churning out ideas ridiculous, caustic
vying to conquer space, the whole Galaxy,
yet again greed and power drives the human soul -
alas, such does a few lives become expendable
when we seek that one perfect goal.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
Laugh if you want;
lately my dreams
are all the same:
black and white and silent,
a montage of mute scenes
in which he quietly appears,
a funny little man beset
by brute absurdities, framed
by a toothbrush mustache,
bowler hat, and vagabond suit—
dressed for hapless caricature,
a disheveled angel in disguise.
He forever waddles away from me
down a lane of denuded trees,
jauntily twirling his bamboo cane,
his gray pocket watch stopped—
a cheap prop at the end of a chain.
Watch how the last scene transpires:
I stay in my cushioned seat
expecting house lights to rise.
Alone in the dead theater,
I wait for the live orchestra
to offer an accompaniment,
to set the silver screen on fire.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC
Your smile is the best poem ever,
Your 'hello' - the deepest spring of mirth.
As you filled my heart with your warm greeting,
Now I can jauntily fly around the Earth.
I feel gratified in my sweet void
Gliding through the sky, no pain or grieving
So, I am sure that I was not wrong,
You have a potent spell, that I am healing
To shadow, to rain and to make a rainbow
I want to be a cloud moving above you
Wherever you go and whatever you do,
You will be mine as long as I love you
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
In the depths
Of waters deep,
Slowly sink
Where fishes creep.
In the night,
I saw the truth,
Which in the light
Was held aloof.
I watch the bubbles
Jauntily rise,
And feel no water
In my eyes.
Letting go
Of these old lies,
Has made me love
And realize,
Our hearts are all
The same in size,
I'm letting go,
With these goodbyes.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 5:42 AM UTC
The monkey leaned down,
whispered in my ear
"Don't forget to pick up more beer."
I nodded in agreement,
I nodded in rhythm
with the demons' song.
They whistled and
they smiled and
did the backstroke,
jauntily along,
through the river of whiskey
that I had tried
to drown them with.
A thousand-toothed yawn,
the monster finds it all too easy.
I don't even put up a fight,
I sit down at night
and forget.
I forgot.
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 12:13 PM UTC
I was strolling the sidewalks of my small
nearest to me town, a farm and vineyard
village, an unhurried and laid-back place
home to perhaps 15,000 souls. Tree lined
streets with singing birds aplenty, spring
sun shining, not a cloud in the azure sky,
another good day to be alive.
I was whistling some made up tune,
a thing I, almost never do, but feeling
so good just compelled me to expel.
My old legs signaled a needed rest stop
and an inviting bench lay dead ahead.
I took a seat and caught my breath.
Had not noticed the other old guy
sitting upon the end of the long bench.
I waived an index finger in passive greeting
which he acknowledged with a friendly
grin and slight nodding of his chin, a
weathered Fedora jauntily resting upon his
head. He wore old jeans with red suspenders,
green plaid shirt and well-worn work boots.
An old farmer come to town, not so different
than me.
We set in silence for a few minutes, just
relaxing and taking in the scene around us.
Caught up in that pleasant moment I began
to hum a 1960s or 70s tune, after a time my
bench mate began to hum the same tune,
in perfect unison and pitch, better than mine.
We turned to one another and both smiled.
We finished our shared melody and silence
returned, all but for the singing of birds in
the trees. I stood up from the bench and as
I passed the still seated friendly gent we
performed a convivial fist bump of shared
fellowship, and never a word was needed
or spoken between us.
Apr 30, 2025
Apr 30, 2025 at 7:31 PM UTC
Waiting,
on hold..
sappy muzak.
Dropping raindrops on my head.
All i want to do
is make an appointment about the voices in my mind
Still holding,
my call is important,
apparently.
Now sunshine is on my shoulders making me, happy.
Stupid musak,
my names not annie,
this is not my song....
Waiting still,
but they promise someone will answer...shortly.
But for now,
a baby elephant walking jauntily along.
Wait it's ringing...
Thank god i thought i might need a twelve bore shotgun.
(if that baby elephant got an idea to run)
Yes may i help yo......
Disconected line
Waiting,
on hold...
sappy musak
Telling me to stop in the name of love....
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
Just as there's light, there's darkness in everyone's life.
It's stark, shadowing sunlight, and doesn't yield.
Just how is anyone meant to jauntily thrive
in an ostentatious world meant to shield
Beading, beating eyes from those that suffer
from vicious, bleeding lies?
A pawn cannot decide where it lies
in the everchanging game of fate that is its life
being puppeteered by monsters who make their pieces suffer
from their callous thrones that do not yield.
For they always use an invisible shield
to ensure that they always thrive.
In such a world, how is it we are meant to thrive?
Sinking deeper and deeper in blatant lies
of the quixotic dreams of old to shield
the simple fact that we are taught to live a life
where we stand subservient and yield
the abuses of those in power who make us suffer.
For such a long time we were taught to suffer
through storming skies. Beaten, impossible to thrive.
Time can wither our ability to yield
the pain inflicted by those who tell noxious lies.
A sunken arrow into our psyche to devastate life
worth living and love that cannot hide though any shield.
What else other than our love do they want to shield?
Without, there is no cure for those who suffer
and carry on with the hardships of life.
We live in those pockets of light and thrive
in a different world where we banish the lies
that our worth is measured in what we yield.
Despite my pride, there are the times where I yield
to those shadows in the sky. Yet you shield
the rain and I can see where that crescent lies
above our heads. Cease what we suffer,
the moonlight sonata within tries to reach out and I thrive
from your touch of endless life.
I know it seems we're predetermined to suffer
But take my hand and we'll thrive
as I try to hold onto the fragments of this life.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 10:35 AM UTC
Dire straits necessitated
yours truly to bethink
outside the box (literally outdoors
of squarish structured nested dwelling),
where blinding albedo effect
forced me to blink,
additionally also ruffled tail feathers
of this sole surviving male bobolink
(North American songbird,
Dolichonyx oryzivorus)
pushing survival species
to extinction brink,
thus series of unfortunate events
woke resident chewink
(North American bird,
Pipilo erythrophthalmus
also called: towhee
or ground-robin),
tweeted from within
his cozy armoire *****
polar vortex froze habitat,
whereby arctic wind found
brushy areas to clink
unwittingly brambles ferocious
waving circular rotation
wrought minuscule countersink
eh, no bigger than a cufflink
his ornate bejeweled complex edifice
compliments of sizable income
allowed, enabled, and provided
opportunity in tandem
with significant other
to create acronym named ****
(dual income without kid)
acquiring handsome combined income
rendering and selling stylized goldfinch
also known as distelfink
common motif in
hex signs and fraktur,
which interpretive native folk art
eye state meaningless
without rhyme nor reason,
superfluous gibberish by George,
and/or...well... courtesy
following more purposeless gobbledygook
defying poetaster to incorporate doublethink
intelligently nsync with downlink
playfully, jauntily, and deliberately
creating confounding badinage eyewink
at thee, no doubt many
an anonymous innocent
reader calling me ratfink
under their breath or more
colorful brutal appellation
inducing cheeks of unknown followers
turning fifty plus shades of firepink
moost definitely concurring gink
perfectly apropos description
concluded individually versus
collectively, quickly, and
unanimously i.e. (think) groupthink
I approve this entire message, which
most likely tinders pet peeve,
concluding GoDaddy liberally did hoodwink.
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC