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Quatrain Friendship Poems | Quatrain Poems About Friendship

These Quatrain Friendship poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Friendship. These are the best examples of Quatrain Friendship poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Windowpanes

An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.


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Stand By Me

Whether I'm right, whether I'm wrong,
You stand by me, so easy to find,
like the repeating words of a song,
always right here on my mind.

Daylight shines and again, I see your face,
night comes near and still you stand by,
forever, with arms awaiting an embrace,
even if stones were falling from the sky.

You're feet never tire, they never ache,
as you stand by me for endless years,
steady and strong, even if the ground should quake,
now I have a reason to never shed tears.

That ocean was deep, but you pulled me through,
and saved a life that was sinking fast,
you just stand by me and I'm no longer blue,
a feeling that I want to ever last.

Because, my friend, you are so ideal,
with promises that stay unbroken,
I often wonder, how can you be real?,
a question that will go unspoken.

Whether I'm right, whether I'm wrong,
you stand by me, so easy to find,
like the repeating words of a song,
always right here on my mind.




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To Soar

Gone are the days of childlike hope and dreams.
Our tender years were cast on life's broad streams.
Rich mem'ries float on waters still serene, 
while thoughts drift past the seasons in-between.

That final bend of river not yet seen, 
we set out seeking vistas new and clean,
where aging frame and psyche' still burn bright,
made strong and sharp as blades in morning's light.

We'd dream and see realities yet new.
Our aging forms, set free, would test as true
those aptitudes and skills not proved since youth.
The vision, quite sublime, has become truth.

We'd run the race as when young, full of drive,
to sense a new resolve, to feel alive.
The blood and air would surge deep in our chest,
hearts striving one more time to be the best.

Perhaps, we'd stand on mountain tops and view
our world and all its peoples kind and true.
If foes of that time bid earth-mates good will,
we'd aim from common fate all strife to still.

And, when the course of each life had been run, 
we'd pray wise God affirms all was well done,
while setting each soul free from fated slings
he bids us soar on air that yields to wings.

                                     To Soar


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Treedom

Walking through the orchard 
Amongst so many trees
Fruit lay on the ground rotting
The trees had a strange disease

They were lost in their apathy
No longer fruitful anymore
Sheltered in a land of beauty
On the Okanagan shore

The birds sang soft and sadly
A strange poetic song
Flying together in arcs
All they wanted was to belong

In search of warmth and protection
They landed on branches reaching high
A transplanted tree from Jamaica
Majestically framed by the sky

Uprooted from the island
Oh so many years ago
With branches reaching outward
His leaves had a golden glow

I sat beneath his branches
So his story he could tell
Into my outstretched palm
A perfectly formed apple fell

As I bit into the fruit
I could hear his voice so clear
A different kind of listening
I heard him whisper in my ear

"Within my laughter there is magic
Yet I am serious at my core
Let me help you find your wisdom
A wooden key unlocks the door

I have traveled many places
Felt the sand beneath my feet
I have known the joy of victory
Yet I have learned more from defeat

The things I thought so important
Slipped from my clutching hands
As I chased after foolishness
In a world filled with demands

Not connected to my quiet
That silent outcry of my soul
My branches stripped of everything
As I played my worldly role

Once true to myself I found freedom
In a city perched by a lake
Lush branches fully outstretched
I now give instead of take

Not born to be a conquerer
Love is my soulful call
Rooted within my spirit
Available to one and all

I bring you peace from my island
See how less can be so much more
Come have a taste of freedom
Beneath my branches on this shore!


Inspired by and dedicated to Rawle James.
Rawle is the founder of the "Inspired Word Cafe".






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Summer Nights

The smell of the summer night air 
Takes me back to times we shared
You and I dancing beneath the moon
Crickets playing a lovers tune

Trees full with lush green leaves
Whispering poetry to you and me
A view from beneath a Missouri bluff
Talking of passion, love, and lust

Your hand in mine strolling the path
Sitting on the deck and looking back
Picnic tables and barbecue grills
Driving and parking, is this for real?

My memory’s filled with your sweet love
Do you remember that snow white dove?
A kiss goodnight under a star filled sky
Best friends forever, a promise, no lie

It excites me to think that every year
Whether life or memory I return here
We will create magic again I know
On a summer night in the moon’s soft glow

 
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend





*inspired by John Heck’s “Summer Celebration” contest


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Paradise Lost

Today I could feel only burning salty tears of sadness 
Alone as I walked slowly along the beach pondering
Sweet memories pervading my inner psyche deeply 
With coiling inside gasps of heavy breathless moans
 
Sweetest honey holding precious memories so real
Faraway looking into the sun setting warm—a utopia
As a special friendship was born under a sweet kiss
While conjuring true a most incredible dream shone
 
Visions flashback into far distant everlasting thoughts
Full of smiles adoringly walking along the golden sands 
Feelings with joy as magical tunes are so divinely sung 
As large waves crash over and over in the mind’s eye 

True emotions burning with love stays forever so pure
As tears fall upon the sand symbolizing a rapid change 
In realizing your very touch means and meant so much 
As salted heart burning flames stir unquenchable fires 

You who burns inside this candle lost in your very space
Darling the happiest day of my life came on our meeting 
As I found you fortified in a castle of one mystic dream 
As whispers cast over the warm sea finding a true love

Carnations lovely crowning petals of a most regal life with
Beauty whose golden visage lights faraway sunsets so real
While smiling gently and graciously before her—Our Queen
Who seeks with tears and toil to restore our Paradise Lost

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (June 6, 2015)
(Unrhymed Quatrain)


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Fireside Conversation

Unravel your ego
sit down for a spell
Let the cool green glass
of deception dispel
Wind all your hair 
'round the wheel and dissolve
Tell me your story
and we'll be involved
You will be captain
and I your first mate
in the skies of forgiveness
pop bubbles of hate
We'll write out our names
with invisible ink
and laugh 'till we hadn't 
a thought left to think
Sipping hot cocoa
'round fires of trust
we'll bandage depression
with cider and rust
and blow concentration
'till wishes ensue
and glisten in glass 
like reflections of you


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Heaven's Grocery Store

Marching down life’s highway, my feet became very sore
I then came upon a sign that read “Heaven’s Grocery Store”
When I got closer the doors swung open wide
Next thing I knew I was standing there inside
I saw a flock of angels positioned everywhere
They handed me a basket and said, “Child shop with care.”
Everything a human required was in that grocery store
With many commodities to carry, you could always come back for more
First I acquired some Patience; Love was in that same row
Further down was Understanding, you require that everywhere you go
I grabbed a box of Wisdom and Faith, a bag or two
And obtained Charity of course but more than just a few
And then reached for Courage to help me run this wicked race
My basket was almost full but remembered some loving Grace
I then chose Salvation for it was advertised as free
I tried to collect enough of that for both you and me
Then I started to the counter to pay my grocery bill
For I thought I had everything to do the Master’s will
As I went up the aisle, I saw Prayer and proceeded put that in
For I knew when I stepped outside I was bound to encounter sin
Peace and Joy were plentiful, the last thing on that shelf
Song and Praise were hanging near so I just helped myself
Then I asked an angel, “Now how much do I owe?”
She smiled and said, “Just take them wherever you may go.”
Again I asked, “No really, how much do I owe?”
“My child,” she said, “God paid your bill a long time ago.”
 


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All the Little Things

Understanding all the little things
And how they make up the big,
Knowing the difference between climbing a mountain
And a hole that you might dig.

Know how reading the pages every day
Because it's knowledge, you're told, you need
Just isn't enough to enrich your soul
If you're not living the words you read.

The choice to change for the better
Is better than pretending to be who you're not
And understanding all the unpleasant things
Enlighten you of the beauty you've got.

Enjoying every precious moment in time
Brightens everything you ever will do,
So keep your face turned toward the sunshine
And the shadows will fall behind you.


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Riding on Ellison's Qua-Train

It is on this day
Into his elegant horizons
Where cirrus clouds are sprayed from sunrises and sunsets
Attuned within throat of violins

An example of his concave humanity
Preaching fond memories in baritone clefs
An embrace of admirations’ core within exhaled stanzas
Forcing trembled knees to stand against robe of Death

His double entendres know no bounds
My iridescent conundrums become resolutions’ pavement
As I grab aloe-coated tissues
Wiping joyous tears from his laughter induced statements

He pours wisdom in foaming, oat-flavored pints
While we relish in his charming, devilish wit
Slowing down a rushed humanity
Bit by luminescent bit

Yes, it is on this day
Where I choose to declare in Quatrain formed sentence
To the one that puts the “man” in humanity
An affirmation on why I bow in Santa’s reverence

©Drake J. Eszes
Dedicated to the almighty Jack Ellison and my 1st Quatrain!


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Peaches and Cream

She was looking my way, I had nothing to say,
Though I'd dreamed that this day would transpire;
With her beaux all around, why would she look at me
With such interest and playful desire?

She was heading my way, what on earth would I say
To the prettiest girl in the town?
And how could I bear all her sunshiny hair
Or her eyes, speckled golden and brown?

I thought, "This is the one! Mercy, here comes the sun!
If I stare, I shall surely be blind:
Though I be somewhat plain, if she choose to remain
I'd be last in the county to mind."

Then my eyes turned away as she sweetly did say
Pretty phrases I cannot recall;
And I mumbled replies, though they might have been lies,
Since I cannot remember at all.

Of that bright day in May but one thing I can say,
She was dressed in a soft yellow gown;
'Twas a lemony hue that was buttery too,
And with eight shiny pearls buttoned down.

Then I asked if she'd dance at the Cunningham's manse,
At the ball on the fourteenth of June;
She replied, "Oh, how good! Yes, I certainly would;
And I hope I shall talk to you soon."

What a wonderful day! Still with nothing to say
I just whistled an old happy tune;
Having primrosy dreams of sweet peaches and cream
As I counted the hours of June.

(Written February 12, 2014)


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If I Can Make You Feel

Although some are blessed with healing powers,
I can only offer comfort to you.
At your side I’ll be in your darkest hours
when your greatest hopes and dreams go askew.

Of monetary wealth I have little,
just concern, uplifting words to impart.
Feelings of trust are my best transmittal
when you feel crushed and your world falls apart.

For some it seems that friendship is fleeting,
but a commitment is what I can make.
As long as my true heart is beating,
take my unwavering hand when you shake.

If I can make you feel self assurance
when others have abandoned you in plight,
then count on me smiling -- a hope-filled glance --
a nonjudgmental friend who’ll not indict.



*Entry for Brian's "6-16” contest


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The Unicorn Dedicated to Pd For her Birthday

~The Unicorn~ There is a woman who has a passion Not for a man and not for a fashion Her passion is for a horse, a horse with a horn. Commonly known as a mystical unicorn. This mythical beast from days of yore Did it walk on this hallowed land before? The Bible mentions this unicorn But the science says it’s a beast with one horn. It’s placed where the horn is on a rhinoceros So what is that trying to tell the lot of us? Those unicorns did not roam about I know that’s hard love, please don’t shout The mythical beast of charm and of love Is just a rhinoceros to you and me, my dove? The Bible talks of it with other beasts Not mythical ones, that now have all ceased. What it means is a beast with just one horn But not the mythical mystical unicorn But for you PD I will start to seek For a horse with a horn that would be labelled a freak. I will scour the lands up hill and down dale I will lift every stone and turn every hay bale If this horse with a horn is what you desire I will spend my time searching-until I expire. For you with a passion for a horse with a horn I’ll search for ever to find your mystical unicorn But if I expire before my quest is done I’ll get an apprentice, and he can find one.
© 10/09/2012 ~GG~


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You Say I Say

He wrote down his ideas
So that the whole world could see
He held them with conviction
Creating controversy

There were different opinions
Each person expressed their own
An exchange of ideas
Without casting any stones

I stood on opposite ground
I said I didn't agree
We didn't have to be the same
To remain in harmony

Like voices in a choir
Each one unique sings its part
If all of them were the same
The song would lack so much heart

We agree to disagree
Neither of us play pretend
We don't take it personal
After all we are both friends







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The Green Eyed Lad

~The Green Eyed Lad~ Nah Then, I’d like to spin you a yarn and weave a story for you to enjoy It’s about a lad I know and I would have liked to have met as a boy He is well traveled and I believe well read His family worldwide they now seem to have spread. Age is there now and his maturity abounds, A deep sense of fun though is still around. His eyes are green even though I’ve not seen He says they are fading, but I bet they still gleam. We have never met we are miles apart. But I don’t have to see him for him to capture my heart He has a deep affection for the place of his birth He writes with a skill a longing and mirth. It would have been nice to play up Wingate Nick Share spice, have fun, and then take the mick. We could have made up such fanciful fables But we can’t go back or wish no, no one is able. And round Heber’s Ghyll and perhaps Sugar Hill At the bottom of which the Post Office is still. His words that soothe and manipulate my senses Upbuilding and mindful, no need for defenses. If ?we met for a dinner He’s say “Get yourself outside of that” I think… Because that’s the way they speak, they are violets that don’t shrink It would have been fun to meet him weaving and plying his trade Bought up with the clickerty clack that the weaving looms made. But time passes us by and at too great a speed Events mold our lives how they want, and not how we need So to this green eyed lad I say thanks for being there You know who you are, it's up to you if you share….
©~GG~ 17/08/2012


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Where She Stands

A wildflower stands erect
Soaking in rays of radiance
As the bees and townsfolk buzz
And the wind sways in a slow dance 

Contentment is where she stands
Until she spots something missing
Among all the townsfolk talk
She was bound to start listening

Was in the clouds but now on land
Leans in to get a better view
A life involved with others
But she doesn't know what to do

Clueless but curious
Tries to start a conversation
In search of a smile
Doesn't find it in rejection

Caring but cautious
Hoping to look approachable
In search of a word
Doesn't happen when you're invisible

Confused and crushed
World doesn't make much sense
In search of a friend
Everything is better in ignorance

Laughter among all but her
She hides her eyes in sorrow
A life void of others
No hope for tomorrow

Disappointment is where she stands
Teased by something she can't have
Alone among a crowded crowd
Her heart wounded by lonesome's stab

A wildflower builds a wall
Unsure if she can be saved
Brick by brick is stacked
Her own prison's being paved


May 2010


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Healed Wings

A beautiful way of questioning
With pen and paper you empart
Although you think that you are broken
You have been gifted a perfect heart

Your spirit sheds its perfect diamonds 
We have each witnessed them in your tears
You have experienced so much loss
Today you are wise beyond your years

To come to know you is our pleasure
For you are a person who is real
You are still living life with purpose
Yet you still allow yourself to feel

Yes, one day you will have your comfort
What is broken will be fully healed
The pain will give way to joyfullness 
As the answers to you are revealed

Yesterday flows into tomorrow 
As life's river travels it full length
You were born to fly high above it
As you are lifted on wings of strength!


Inspired by and written for Broken Wings.



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I Remember the Day

I remember the day when comments were the main
They're all very instrumental to the Soup's mainframe
Some comments are influential that created other writes
And many were like tuition that kept us crisp and bright

But there now appears a drought growing larger every day
We need to increase our comments as they help us write our says
Maybe it's time for change, for the Soup to alter it's route
Many foundations have recently left, will others follow suit

The columns showing us the views, tells us nothing at all
How many have clicked on a poem thinking that's a bit of a trawl
So another poem was open and not a word was read
So basically the views are worthless, because comments are our thread

We can learn from our comments but we will never learn from the views
It's our democratic choice for all, of what we do and choose
Nothing stays the same for ever as it appears to be
It's still the worlds best poetry site, that's down to you and me




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-13.php


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Dear Dear, Donna Jones



Dear, dear, Donna Jones Told you your poetry would shine Many others have also noticed It's not just an opinion of mine Remember when you first appeared You thought you might not fit in You're now one of our shining stars Many hearts you surely did win Knew your poetry was very special Tried to convince you to stay Happy you found a home at P-Soup Brightening us up every day Dear, dear, Donna Jones Just knew your poetry would shine Talent like yours doesn't come along often So happy you're a friend of mine © Jack Ellison 2013


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Our Dear Charmaine



Everyone knows our dear Charmaine From the Mediterranean Isle of Malta A beautiful lady so loving and gentle My admiration for her never falters Charming and sweet are a couple of words Describing this dear loving soul I hold my breath till her name appears Since this ageing heart she stole Others on the site are sweethearts too Can't possibly mention them all But this is all about Charmaine Chircop That dear sweet Maltese doll Since the day Charmaine came into my life The sun has never stopped shining She fills each day with such joy and kindness Forever on her love, I'm dining © Jack Ellison 2014


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A Souper New Year! (Co-written with James Fraser)

In early spring I found you on Poetry Soup
A haven where wordsmiths congregate to recoup
Some sense of sanity in a world filled with grief
Your friendship, dear Highlander, has brought much relief

     Being new to writing, I decided to try
     So I joined the Soup, and a name caught my eye
     Carolyn Devonshire, was the name in question
     Her guidance has taken me to a different dimension

Who'd know the Soup would bring a Scottish writing mate
It was our destiny; now I believe in fate
A braveheart's pen paints history and mystery
Erasing fear and lifting me from misery

     No sooner had I arrived beautiful comments were received
     My writing was enjoyed and I now started to believe
     An American lady has become a soul mate and teacher
     Her words of kindness enhanced my words to be featured

So much loss I'd incurred just before we met here
Never had I dreamed of finding a comrade so dear
He reached across the sea and took me by the hand
And together we've escaped to fantasy lands

     Before the Soup, I posted somewhere else
     If you were not one of them you were left on the shelf
     But the Soup's beach babe led me by the pen
     I was absorbed in her circle right there and then 
 
James and I propose a toast to many Soup friends
Whose talents are displayed here again and again
Too many great writers to mention each one's name
A new year comes as you enter our Hall of Fame


Happy New Year from James and me to all of the Poetry Soup Family!


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From a Friend to an Angel

When you meet someone who brightens The darkest of your days Who cheers you up and turns you around Because their lovely heart displayed Their lovely heart displayed Words of warmth and kind Encouraging laughter and poetry Now written from my mind Written from my mind Are poetic pieces shared From an angel to a friend For this special one who cared This special one who cared Will remain forever in my heart We will only be thoughts away One day our tomorrows will start 'Written for a friend to a friend' http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me-2.php


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Song Bird

If I were a song bird
I'd soar on feathered wing
to light upon your window sill
my song for you I'd sing.

Each note I'd fill with tenderness
as much as I employ
if you would let me sing for you
I'd fill your heart with joy.

If I were a song bird
to you I'd sing my story.
If it would fall on willing ears
my sad heart would know glory.

Each note infused with sweetness
I would sing with all my heart
the songs you have inspired
right from the very start.


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THE CONTEST WINNER

I have entered many poetry contests
to display my best...an amazing number of sixty or more,
only one of my poems has won first place;
poets are like enduring athletes who fight to the very core! 
 

One big hurray goes to myself for the first win,
congratulations to the other participants
who are on the top of that list, or have been
awarded Honorable Mentions for their efforts!  


When my poem doesn't make it to the finalists's list,
I don't feel discouraged, I brazen out the doubt and try again;
even Lance Armstrong, with his skills, can't always win his race,
and the trophy must be given to someone else!


I rejoice when some of the chosen poets appear 
on the winners' list; I am happy for their accomplishment,
and into a word-restricted message's box I gladly comment
on their poetry...with the insight of an achiever!


And for those whose names never made it as previously thought,
I honestly tell you, from experience, not to be a bit discouraged...
your time will come when your enthusiasm will require a big shout;
never put the word, " Winner " to rest, write for fun and persist instead! 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Friends All Different Kinds!

Friends All Different Kinds!

Friendships come in different forms:
All shapes.  All sizes.  And diversities.
Life is blessed because of friends who
Care enough to discuss…adversities.

Acquiescence is not required.
Nor should it be of a cherished friend.
But respect of views transpired.
Kindnesses given around each bend —

Friendships come in different forms:
All shapes.  All sizes.  And diversities.
A cherished one for sharing thoughts –
Holding no fear of hurtful mysteries.

Years long past, it was hard to find
Someone to trust and share ones heart’s rhyme,
But that has all changed since finding you here.
Wonderful friends sharing, all of the time!

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
March 23, 2010
Poetic form: Quatrain


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My heart

My heart is not a poem, you may come
And sit awhile apart from the drowsy day
And measure in silence the sweet sum
Of all I am to him in him when I pray

My heart is not a poem, do not read
My lips for syllables sly in sentences
That ever mask our inherent need
It's too naked for pride and pretences.

My heart is not a poem, I'm a man
Simple in form and capable only of love
When you come, bring not a plan
But come to give freedom to this dove.


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Spellbound

I am spellbound by the mist in a galaxy, afar, Wild you are, yet friends exist, eye to eye, from different stars Love is a circle entwined where mystical dreams abide Untamed, but fearless, we'll find our differences cast aside
* * * * * * For the Contest: Fantasy, Sponsored by Mystic Rose 6/18/15


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If

If you see me stumbling
and you're watching me to see
if I'll fall or make it...
reach out your hand to me.

If you hear me crying
and you sense my misery,
offer me a helping hand
but please...don't cry for me.

If you know my weakness
and you fear my strength is low...
Stay with me untill I'm strong.
If you love me, let me know.

If you ever need me
just look and I'll be there.
You'll never have to wonder
just how much I care.


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Living Through Your Words

May the world see the person in your writing
For the person, you, is buried there so deep
May the world see the person in your writing
Allowing chances and friendships then to keep

May the world see the light within your writing
As it shines so brightly, blinding all who see
May the world see the light within your writing
Allowing you, the person, to stand free

May the world share the pleasure of your writing
For in each line, there are images on display
May the world share the pleasure of your writing
For between each line there’s so much more you say


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The Gift

Shadows in the dark
Are much better swept away
Leaving room for friendship
That never fades away
Bright, the light that dawns
From a heart of precious kind
Priceless to a writer
Someone to share their mind