These April Quatrain poems are examples of Quatrain poems about April. These are the best examples of April Quatrain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Almost a century ago
Innocent blood was spilt
Almost a century ago
But there remains the guilt
The world must acknowledge
The Armenian genocide
The blood won’t wash away
There is no place to hide
One million and a half
Of Armenians met death
Their hopes and dreams extinguished
Gone out with their last breath
The women brutally raped
And their husbands shot or hung
How many of their songs
To this day remain unsung
The children weak and fragile
Dying for want of some bread
Left in the desert to die
Buzzards flying overhead
The sick and the elderly
Were discarded on the way
No one to weep and mourn
When their bodies saw light of day
The mothers dying slow deaths
Seeing children turn to bone
Wanting to feed them their flesh
Knowing they’ll not see them grown
The young girls flying off cliffs
Rather than suffer disgrace
Others hiding their beauty
By disfiguring their face
The soldiers with stone hearts
Deaf to the moaning sounds
Of the dead and the dying
Strewn on the desert ground
Faceless nameless people
Identity stripped away
Not honored with a number
In this gruesome tragic play
Their blood is crying out
Like faithful Abel of old
Still demanding justice
Their story must be told
The genocide of my people
Was not hidden from God’s eyes
The world may now deny it
May feed naive people lies
But every single blood drop
Will be accounted for one day
The murderers will face judgment
To escape- there’ll be no way
The Judgment day is coming
My people will see the light
They will be vindicated
They will march out of death’s night.
They will be reunited
With loved ones that they have lost
For their souls we now seek justice
We will achieve it at all cost.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Black clouds bury the blue skies of Bama overhead
as monstrous winds wipe out towns of southern plain.
From historic antebellum it left a path of dead
in the midst of hail and drenching down-pouring rain.
Ten hours of terror that held the sweet south in its grip
not yielding to warnings since wind motion was quick.
Leveled houses and buildings with just one long dip
leaving nothing to relish of mementos or red brick.
Toys and papers scattered with the dying whirl twist
sending debris to nearby states in massive claws.
Disaster covers barren- lifeless- ground in hail and mist
while residents view destruction that harshly gnaws.
Blind darkness filled the night after the storms once seized
bleak clouds clung, still forbidding stars or moon to shine.
Lives spared but tattered beings were left quite uneased
and not rightly sure where tired bodies could now resign.
Despair fills many counties hit by a ravenous wind
that changed a million lives in a fleeted moment.
Winds of majesty can transform, bringing life to an end
along with frazzled minds and souls in much discontent.
Although lives have been altered and turned inside out
friendship and well wishes are given in great abundance.
It will take patience to rebuild quaint rural towns, no doubt
with God’s and friends help, we still have a fighting chance.
“Sweet Home Alabama, you’re home sweet home to me”!
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I wonder if God told her
How I broke down and cried
I wonder if he told her
How I thought he lied
I wonder if she's seen
My dedication and my praise
Has she seen my suffering
And counted up the days
I wonder if she's waiting
As if I was already there
Smileing and not debating
The eturnity I'd wish we'd share
I wonder if I could win her
Not by law or decree
I'd want that something special
Just from her to me
I wonder if God hears me
While my poetry prays
And passes on this love
For the one that it was made
I wonder if forever
Really does exist
Then I would use forever
For a love like this
In the doorway, you stand deliciously;
I draw you over to the bed.
And kiss your mouth as I pull your dress,
Slowly over your head.
I nip your neck and eye you coyly;
You sink into my kiss.
And as we touch, I see you buckle,
Into a sharp, awaited bliss.
Sweet lover, with skin as pure as pearls,
Like a coin that’s clean and new.
I open up my mouth to speak,
And all I say is, “I do.”