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Quatrain Introspection Poems | Quatrain Poems About Introspection

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

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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.

Copyright © Jim Fish

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This Poem Is How I Feel

Sometimes on the road of life
	Change becomes the norm
		When you think, “The sky is true”
			The horizon brews a storm
Some storms last but a minute
	Like a ship they sail right by
		Other storms seem to be
			As endless as the sky
Some storms come with a flood
	As life gets washed away
		Other storms shake the ground
			As mountains crumble into clay
Storms come in many sizes
	They come in many shapes
		Storms come in many forms
			Some bless while others rape
As we face the storms of life
	They change who we are
		Sometimes, we’re the clouds
			Other times we’re the stars
Storms have one thing in common
	One day they too shall pass
		 As a car rolls to a stop
			Storms run out of gas
After the storm has passed us by
	A seed sprouts to a flower
		Each petal seems to be
			Exuding strength and power
I have weathered many storms
	Their lines map my face
		In their wake I have found
			Love is my saving grace
I don’t know what this poem means
	I don’t know if I ever will
		All I know is that right now
			This poem is how I feel

Copyright © Michael Jordan

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From There To Here.

As you ponder each turn that has landed you here,
taut tempo will quicken and frail futures loom near.
Take one somber moment, step away from the din:
The voyage, the detours, the past and what's been.

You look back behind you to retrace every mile.
It bring tears of regret and the trace of a smile.
Hang on first, then let go, due to whimsy or age.
What you keep in the end is the test of a sage.

Fools still ignore the supreme ticks of the clock,
in each change in fashion, embraced by the flock.
Walk on and ignore them, don't bother to chide,
these pathetic lemmings swept away by the tide.

Peer off in the distance as you fight off the chill.
You must climb still further to the top of the hill.
Play the tailor to time, cut and trim, make it fit.
Find the time in your life. Take time to enjoy it.

Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr.

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Lonely Dreams

I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin

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Self Preservation

I’ll stay away…
          from what brings pain
What makes tears fall
          like acid rain

I’ll stay away…
         from what is fake
What makes my heart
        about to break 

I’ll stay away….
	From a false friend
Who makes my hope
	Reach bitter end

I’ll stay away…
	From selfish quest
What makes me lose
	What I love best

I’ll stay away….
	From hurtful write
That plunges soul
	In darkest night

I’ll stay away…
	From words untrue
What gives false love 
	In shaded hue


I’ll stay close to…
	what brings me life
What makes my heart
	Free from all strife

I’ll stay close to…
	What feeds my soul
What makes my heart
	Feel light and whole

I’ll stay close to….
	What brings delight
What brings me joy
	In darkest night

I’ll stay close to…..
	What I adore
What feeds me heart	
	Has love in store

I’ll stay close to….
	What's good and true
And so I’ll stay
	Right close to you.

Eileen Manassian

People have different tolerance levels for pain. I have a very low threshold. Fragile and brittle...I break easily, and sometimes the repair work takes forever. Thus, I have found that it's best to stay away from potential heartache and pain. Sometimes we torture ourselves by reading or listening to things that will just drive that nail in deeper into our hearts. Why? That is self torture. There is enough pain in life to bring us down. We don't need to make it worse. So...sometimes keeping a distance is best. Not out of could be disappointed love...unmet expectations...previous painful experiences....or it could just be called....SELF PRESERVATION.

Thanks for reading! 

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

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Optimistic White

We celebrate the optimist
Extolling his cheery ways
As the light shines upon him 
We think he's worthy of our praise

He seems to have the answers
With him the future's always bright
Convincing us that darkness
Is a form of blackened light

Not a thing seems to phase him
He surveys life from on high
Floating above the misery
With a twinkle in his eye

All the while the pessimist
Occupies a gloomy place
Warning us of the dangers
That none of us wish to face

We want rainbows and buttercups
A world that is cheerful and bright
We fear arbiters of darkness
For we think they will take our light

It's wise to listen carefully 
The pessimist might be right
Don't choose a veil of ignorance 
Dyed in Optimistic White


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

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The Ending of The Show

Have you ever listened to the silence?
Alone in the giant trees
Have you ever experienced your soul?
Being totally at ease
Have you ever stood atop a volcano?
Felt its trembling power
Ever smelled the sulfur boiling in the pits
Man that sure is sour
Have you ever loved with all that you are?
Holding nothing back
Have you ever completely lost who you are?
Trying to find your way back
Have you ever stood atop a mountain?
Cursed the Lord above
Have you ever sat alone in a Prison cell?
Accepting his forgiving love
You know I have been an evil man
Every sense of the word
In my memory I remember screams
Tormenting to be heard
So much I wish that I could forget
So much I have to tell
About the emptiness you feel inside
The pure solitude of hell
My life no longer belongs to me
I am on a quest
To show the world a man can be
Beyond any test
My pain is deep and my spirits are high
Eagle gliding in the sky
Brave enough to fight any man
Strong enough to cry
A rock to those who know me well
A leader in the night
A warrior that would never run
God I love the fight
A tender man of true compassion
My wife taught me well
That’s why everything that I can be
I offer to her spell
Angels come with big brown eyes
Strong enough at heart
They encourage you to rise above
Finish what you start
Sometimes when I start to write
I fall into a trance
And the poem becomes a partner
Gliding in a dance
Where the poem goes is with the flow
I just tag along
I try real hard to keep the beat
Swaying with the song
Some parts are good and others bad
Some are in between
But from the first word to the last
The soul in me is seen
I pray before that final curtain call
I will have left my mark
That people will think back and say
The light rose from the dark
Everyone must choose their own way
I am no one to lead
If you wish to make your life a garden
I have some real good seed
Always be totally honest with yourself
The person that you are
Space is a place full of dark matter
Grasp to your own star
Be strong enough to always open up
Let go of what you hide
Because in the overall scheme of things
They’re a nowhere ride
If you wish to hold the one you love
Always let it show
Remember that they must be free
We all need room to grow
Trust in them with all that you are
Never forget to show
That they are the one you will adore
To the ending of the show

Due to the length I joined the four line stanzas together

Copyright © Michael Jordan

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So Words Become

So words become; the order of the day
and order of the day becomes
the soldiered meaning of all work and play,
the ever present, beating drums.

Then words become; the lure of the lie
and liars lure every son
with shadows of gold 'til they all but die,
to retire, to be, to be done.

And then, once again; the words become
the order of every day
to sleep, to awake, to be dead and done,
'til all words fly, ever away.

Copyright © Tom Hitt

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The Day She Left

He's staring again, standing by his balcony door
The way he did each morning, even when I was there
Writhing in pain after my heart from my chest he tore
And as I walk away, my heart on my sleeve I wear

The emotional abuse was unconscionable
Yet for years I clung to hope he'd appreciate me
But his anger just grew, attacks became physical
Till I'd had enough and desired only to be free

My clothing, my perfume, many things remain behind
I'm standing now an I'm finally walking away
Wondering why for far too long I chose to stay blind
Proud I had the strength to leave, I greet a new spring day

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

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Mirrored Reflections

Imagine someone finished all your thoughts
and never failed to share your point of view.
Would your reflection really be your own
if one you mirrored also mirrored you?

I think it would be nice to be real close
to someone else, but picture him your clone. . . 
If one you mirrored also mirrored you,
would your reflection really be your own?

I saw a show about a pair of twins.
They’ve stayed the same in all they say and do.
Would your reflection really be your own
if one you mirrored also mirrored you?

What mystery or fun in partnerships
if there were always everything foreknown?
If one you mirrored also mirrored you,
would your reflection really be your own?

If bonds of love were colors, could they thrive
if they remained the one same constant hue?
Would your reflection really be your own
if one you mirrored also mirrored you?

If you reflected someone flesh and soul. . . 
Together would you not still be alone?
If one you mirrored also mirrored you,
would your reflection really be your own?

I would not like to know my whole sweet life
were being lived by not just one, but two!
Would your reflection really be your own
if one you mirrored also mirrored you?

For the Mirror Poetry Contest of Nathan A

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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Hopes and Wishes

A wish is hope, all dressed up
A heart that needs to sing...
And I have 3 songs  today,
Hopes and wishes, that I bring...

I wish  yesterday was today
So I could change some things...
I seem so much wiser now,
A different song I'd sing...

I wish I had the power
To make my fellows see...
That hate wont set the table,
But love is always free

I wish that I could write a poem
That everyone would read...
Something with a message,
To plant a fruitful seed

We all would like to think
That magic might come our way...
And that some Genie just might grant,
Our hopes and wishes for today

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

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100 Shards of Pen

Erase a word
Mundane and wrought
Smoldering fire
Of indifferent thought

Pluck a phrase
Wild and untamed
Primordial howl
Of random flame

Sing a verse
Naked and free
Poetic gale
Of crashing seas

Tell a tale
Endearing and true
Passionate prose
Of life’s muse

Ask a heartbeat
Women and men
Who feels
100 shards of pen

Copyright © Xavier Keough

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You bet your life

A chance for eternity is at stake.
Life is too important to make a mistake.
Some try to get rich playing the lottery,
Odds are against them, but they play merrily.

Some think we are a product of natural selection,
Enzymes and molecules, in some random collection.
Trillions to one, against it, yet they still believe,
A Designer with a purpose, too hard to conceive.

Our life is too important, to risk it on the odds,
It's actually more intelligent, to believe in God.
Life, comes from life, not some chance of fate,
Trusting in an organic soup, isn't that, blind faith?

Life's not a game of chance, we all have a choice.
Believe in our maker, and make him rejoice.
The ridiculers laugh and scoff, but they are rolling the dice,
With the odds against them, they are betting their life.

John Derek Hamilton   October 15,2015

Copyright © John Hamilton

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My Torment

A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun

Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion

The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me

And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul

And then that familiar salty smell 
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things

Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts

And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher

Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror

There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same

Copyright © James Burns

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Where The Rainbow Ends

Often I dream of better days
Where it was not so hard to cope
A place where there is peace of mind
And the streets are full of hope

The anger that I feel inside
With days of being stressed
The hurt, the pain, the sorrow
Can all be laid to rest

A place where I can find that peace
Surrounded by family and friends
Maybe that is the pot of gold
That lies where the rainbow ends.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.

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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.”

Copyright © Adam Kirkhoff

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Soundless met Emptiness

Today I sat in silence gently closing my eyes
Saying goodbye to sounds that makes our world alive
Slowly I started to drift, deeper into an unknown black
Where sound has never been heard, where life also lacked

The deeper and further I went, uncharted by any man
Where silenced echoed it's silence, right back to our future plan
In this void of soundless emptiness, dust particles brushed me so
Prompting me to open my eyes, allowing my eyes to glow

So fortunate I think to myself, being present at the beginning of time
Finding the truth of yesterdays tomorrows, now knowing where man has climbed
I watch the particles spinning, over millions and millions of years
Creating planets we know now, aligned are these magnificent spheres

Gradually I work my way back, enlightened at what I had viewed
Knowing that we are only a blip in time, being here is so misunderstood
So many follow their paths, knowing of their yonder 
So today I sat in silence, gladly closing my eyes I wandered

Copyright © James Fraser

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‘The Airplane Crossing Clear-Blue Sky'

My white-washed bars surrounded me -
they held me as I slept;
they soothed me when the days were long,
and mother’s blue-eyes wept.

A baby girl, six months or less,
awakened from my sleep -
stood up legs as sure as hope;
as strong as flat is steep.

My hands, my saviors, gripped the rail
so I could peek outside –
the bluest sky I’d ever seen,
As tall as it was wide;

came into view - between the blue,
an airplane gliding by,
its smoky streamer like a flag,
across my memory’s sky...

The memory is a simple one -
a window, sky, and plane -
but in my heart, it's heaven's door
and there it shall remain.

I’ve hung it on my memory’s wall
Between that life and this –
It covers every hole I’ve dug
In sorrow’s vast abyss.

This picture brings the special peace
I knew when I was small –
Where mother’s just beyond the door,
and waiting for my call…

*Inspired by Danielle's Earliest Memory contest. I have blocked out almost every memory 
from my childhood, and only a very few gems remain - this is the first. and I will treasure it 

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds

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You Think Me Silly- A Rant

You think me silly and verbose
When love is on my mind…
Fickle fickle full of fluff
Love sick, crazy, blind

Sexually overcharged
Big picture oblivious
And from your life discharged

You read my lines and smirk a while
And think, “Oh dear, Hee Hee!”
But when it comes right down to it
You wish you were like me (Women)
You'd jump in bed with me (men)

It might have a one track mind
But of that I am glad
Life has enough to bring me down
Enough to make me sad

I write of love and passion
And feelings so sublime
You don’t need to read me
Nor be a friend of mine!

But of this I am certain
Of this I’m ever proud
Passion is my heartbeat
l let it beat OUT LOUD!

If you don’t like sultry
Want nature writes and such
There’s someone else to read
So, thank you very much!


Started on this poem some time ago, but left it unfinished. Not in the mood for something new, so I picked this one up and finished it. I don't JUST write about passion and romance and love, is what I love best. I've accepted who I am and I will fight to preserve my identity. I'm tired of a world of people who are judgmental and stuffy....people who don't know how to FEEL and CELEBRATE passion. Thanks for reading.

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

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we our souls will spend our time repenting

we our souls will spend our time repenting 
but the body of truth always comes to light 
in drawing an end to come with true believers 
so they can see the many faces of the devil 

greed in this world money takes over always
as they worship first with the devil’s tools 
invading our space all for the sake of black 
liquid gold tainted hearts in its color so pure 

shame on this world absolutely for mankind
has not learned at all given profound problems
aplenty and stands the testimony of our times 
while war does not resolve anything—death’s end 

only when family lives are directly affected 
they have the fighting right to protect and live 
wherever they choose but we are all controlled 
and always told what to do openly or furtively 

in a system rolling unto the end of mankind
shut eyes in the face of truth and honesty 
the whole setup is a joke makes one laugh 
countries run amok and history repeats itself 

doing the devil’s work at command or by one’s will 
while throwing our money around with profligate zeal 
like they are usually royalty by some birthright and 
this says so much for the world we live in today 

looking at their greed it’s oh so clear for all to see that
with food dished out on silver cutlery and others starving
our priorities have run afoul of charity and common sense
running everything into the ground to support their lies

present catching the past and past is the future’s prologue 
Earth soon develops a chasmic breach at depths reaching a 
heart's song unheard powers unchanging with a most awful
and pronounced Quest of more which destroys the very Soul 

in a such a pitiful world so desolate and blind 
are pure souls who wish with love to shine bright 
one chance will come with a golden sun shining 
but will human kind seize the golden glory at hand 

two paths lie in tomorrow’s dawning shadow dark— 
the path to the end or to the new beginning for mankind 
we live ever together striving for a peaceful endeavor 
we live at war forever on the very fringes of Hell itself 

the way to Armageddon lies open and wants to greet us 
the way to the golden life of peaceful bliss is still possible 
but at tomorrow's dawn do we change our path or will we 
sing the song of stupidity and be dark from tomorrow on 

We must have peace . . . In Our Time or Perish Forever!

Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke – 
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved 
(December 4, 2014) (Quatrain unrhymed poetic form)

Copyright © Gary Bateman

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All That I Know

I wish I had the knowledge of
lifes most important things
knew how to end lifes problems
and all the pain it brings.

I don't know much of anything
but I do know how pain feels
and I know this life is filled
with too many bad deals.

I always try to understand
what others say and do
because I may not really know
just what they have been through.

I never want to cause more pain
that doesn't have to be
and pray that someone else in turn
will do the same for me.

Copyright © Robin L. Gass

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going and comming

one mans sunset
is another mans dawn
every second of the day 
lives on and on

dawn is a traveler
traveling from east to west
bringing light to a world 
darkness has left

decending and emerging
at the same time
insignificant man
fooled by his eye's

the earth has a shadow
but we call it night
it's fought by the moons
reflected light

but in the darkness
we see the stars
other planets in space
telling where we are

constant rotations
on a scale so large
days and seasons
so near so far

days months and years
before and behind
at birth a mystery
but now eternity in my mind

Copyright © john loving iii

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No book is  written with one word
No matter how vital it may appear   
For that we carefully have to think
Every word, for the book, is so dear

A verb, an adjective, a noun one may be
That describes what we are and do 
Or he is a period, a colon or a comma
That emphasis puts and gives us a clue  

Each of us a meaningful role plays 
In life’s voluminous book sublime  
On the chapter titled “Humanity”
In the paragraph of space and time

None of us more significant must feel
From the other words next in line
Regardless how trivial they may seem 
It is them that our functions define 

Our gratitude to all words around us
At every instance we have to show
For without their valuable presence
We would never be able to glow   

What kind of a word “king” would be
What sort that of a “general” of glory 
If “subjects” and “soldiers” were not there
To assist them write their story?

© Demetrios Trifiatis
   01 NOVEMBER 2013

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis

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Oh Gentle Rain

Oh gentle rain
come to me now
please wash this pain from me
in lifes unkindness I'm immersed
and need to be set free

Oh gentle breeze
please breathe new life
into this dying soul
from my travels I am weary
refresh and make me whole

Oh flowers sweet
let me hide
among your beauty fair
touch me with your loveliness
and leave your beauty there

Oh come to me
in kindness please
with your gentle ways
the world it has inflicted me
and darkened all my days

Oh come to me
and touch my heart
please change this dark to light
take away the ugliness
that turned my day to night

Copyright © Robin L. Gass

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Princess Ballerina

Princess ballerina
Comfortably numb
Hidden from the world
Holding angels ransom
Princess ballerina
With ivory inked thighs
Legs swallowing purity
Prying pink eyes
Princess ballerina
With sin studded threats
Slicing delicacy
With pierced pirouettes 
Princess ballerina
Leering from afar
Come out of the corner
My jaded sultry star

Copyright © Xavier Keough

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Epilogue of Love

To have lived not being loved at all -

hunchbacked like a question mark-

your soul continuously on parole

imagine beauty in the dark

Perhaps we passed each other in the speed

of different trains colliding with the time

in one - abandoned newborn girl in need

the other - useless vagabond and wine.

Was it your Soul who shook the Jacaranda tree

and made it burst and rain with purple fairies?

Or just a whispered cry within the depth of me -

too much horizon and no space for prairies...

Imagine beauty in the dark

When wings demolish walls of sorrow

I'll die again an injured lark

Reborn in Phoenix bird tomorrow.

Copyright © iolanda Scripca

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Dad Was The Last Snowflake

The last great snowflake standing
Little snowflakes fell swiftly
All around the house they fell
Eight male flakes_three little girls

House was lively in winter
As they all warmed by the fire
Boys' boistour tales, girls brush long hair
Then silence all rested heads

At four A.M. each morn_chores
Breakfast, lunch packed off to school
Walking that long mile was rule
School was important dad said

Soon the oldest snowflake wed
As life goes all followed him
Leaving the warm hearth behind
Some of them to produce twins

As life goes_death visited
All their humble doors sadness
Some had children die at birth
And some at very young age

What they saw in their lifetime
Changes that took place_cars_planes
Atom bomb that ended war
None their warm family disgraced

Death started visiting doors
One above  middle went home first
Then slowly they all went home
But dad was the last snowflake

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

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Granddads Book

In my quiet times I often try,
To remember places I've been.
To recall folk I have passed by,
And sights that I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with my mind,
Sometimes my memory is quite refined.
I think it's filled over many a year,
With so much junk, nothing seems clear.

So, I made up my mind to write it all down,
To recall it all caused me to frown
It started like I was in the dark,
A memory flared, I was in the park.

That day in the park was just the lever,
I found my mind was as good as ever.
Tho' times and places got out of line,
I wrote it all down, now wasn't I clever!

I'm nearly at the end of my story,
A journey I'm glad that I took.
For my grandsons to read in years to come,
I'll call it Granddads Book.

© Dave Timperley 2012.

Copyright © Dave Timperley

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A Piece of Bread.

My mother starts moaning, with another one due.
She won't live to see, as she struggles to wheeze.
I never knew famine would produce skies so blue.
But no need for toilets, I forget how to squeeze.

Searing sun inflates skulls into baroque balloons.
One whining dog, dying , from a surfeit of fleas.
I squint as my sister beats a roach with a spoon.
She's holding out hope, with a morsel to tease.

My eyes can still water from the feces and trash,
tossed up by vultures to release fresh disease.
I dig up what moist dirt I can pound into mash.
An old man collapses, not a single one grieves.

What passes for corpses- baking black as they pop.
Now the flies feel the heat and retreat to the trees.
My brother keeps wailing and I wish he would stop.
My breathing grows shallow in the oven fed breeze.

If it helps each of you,
I am down on my knees.
I beg you.
Hand me one piece of bread.
Would you, please?

Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr.

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Doe Eyes

If my spirit is akin to an animal
It would surely be the lovely doe
With beauty quiet and reserved
Brown eyes that seem to know...

Eyes so like hidden forest pools
Deep, seemingly brimmed with tears
Every move with a dancer's  grace
Watching, afraid to come to near...

When I see her in the meadow
Or feeding on a summer hillside
I pause to reflect on her beauty
For a time, my heart with her abides....

For the " If I Were an Animal" contest..
Barbara Gorelick

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick