Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Quatrain Tribute Poems | Quatrain Poems About Tribute

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Quatrain | |

Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Another Day

A torch carried on forever, indeed,
for the aggressive rhymer in me,
is alive again, unshackled and freed,
rising to challenge another day, I see.

As I found myself lost deep in Tolkien,
with epic Star Wars, never ending,
surrounded in a geek paradise, serene,
optical illusions before me, suspending.

Life's songs on guitar strings strummed,
an epiphany unlike they've ever heard,
euphoric dreams in my visions hummed,
as I pen archaic word after archaic word.

Artistry is born only to be my brother,
encircled this star, a pentagram made,
my day is done, I have conquered another,
as the sun slowly brings down the shade.

A Word Collage For Chan Hurst

(Cyndi MacMillan's contest)

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

Hidden Beauty

Her smile was lopsided, crooked
And her eyes had lost their shine
In a wheelchair bound and broken
Sat this mother dear of mine

Once the one that they called “Sunshine”
Now was bowed with grief and care
Garbled speech and eyes unfocused
Made the people stop and stare

Yet in this woman there was hidden
Beauty of the rarest kind
Love for God and for her family
Love for words all graced her mind

She was brave and she was noble
Took the falls and burns and smiled
Knowing that her child, a daughter
Lived with fear so justified

People did not see the beauty
Hidden in her crumpled form
All that they could show was pity
Perhaps that is just the norm

But in her dear withered body
MS had so brutalized
Was a mother’s lasting beauty
That her daughter eulogized

Once a flower brightly blooming
In the garden of my home
She remains my flower ever
In the memories where I roam

Eileen Manassian

I grew up knowing my mother was ill and that she would eventually die due to MS. I lost my Mama on March 19, 2000. I still miss her...Her name? Angel. That was my Mama's name. When she was younger, they used to call her Sunshine because of her dazzling smile....

More poems I've written about my Mama:

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

In Celebration of REAL Men

The strength of a man is not determined
By his muscles or his brawn
It is determined by his strength
To admit when he is wrong

The wisdom of a man
Is not determined by myriad facts
It is determined by the way
That wisdom is seen in his acts

The integrity of a man
Is not determined by his claim
It is determined by the reputation
That follows around his name

The love of a man
Is not determined by mere time
It is determined by each moment
That he makes you feel sublime

The sexual prowess of a man
Is not related to his size
It’s how he satisfies your needs
And what you see there in his eyes

The chivalry of a man
Is not determined by his manhood
It is determined by how he nurtures
You to revel in womanhood

The passion of a man
Is not his need to self-gratify
It is determined by how often
He makes the effort to satisfy

The wealth of a man
Is not seen in monetary things
But by those things that are free
That to your life he brings

The age of a man
Is not seen in the age life deals
But by the strength of his heart
And how young he makes you feel

The sweetness of a man
Is not determined by what he says
But it's determined by the fact
That you want him more each day

The humour of a man
Is not determined by a hurtful tease
It’s determined by how your laugh
When his words your heart please

A man is an awesome creation
That I’m determined to venerate
As Eve’s daughter much in love
This male wonder I celebrate.

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

The Hollow

The October night was dark and cold,
As the autumn sun was going down,
When I recalled the legends I had been told,
About this sleepy, little town.

There were tales about the haunted woods,
They say the wind seems to call your name,
I was going where no one should,
And if I survived, I'd never be the same.

I walked through the covered bridge,
As the harvest moon rose into the sky,
I had made it around the darkened ridge,
Just as I heard a lone wolf's cry.

I walked the path of the dark, gnarled thicket,
Through the fallen leaves of maple and oak,
I heard the chirping of a cricket,
Near the hollow, where the bullfrogs croak.

Then, I heard the "hoot" of an owl in a tree,
And the "caw" of a raven on it's perch,
The headless horseman I hoped not to see,
As I passed the graveyard near the church.

I told myself I would be alright,
Just as I heard the hooves of a horse,
But, I knew I would make it home tonight,
Because there are no ghosts, of course.

August 30th, 2013

(This was my tribute to "The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving.
I wrote it from the perspective of Ichabod Crane.)

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Go With The Flo

Go with the Flo, I've heard it said Think I'm gonna give it a shot What a sensual, passionate lady she is Sure doesn't hide her plot Always fires straight from the heart Doesn't have ulterior motives Whatever she's written is the way it is No BS, no flowery emotive Became attracted to her immediately With her honest, up front style Very appealing with no secret agenda Maintaining her feminine guile A gem to be sure here on Poetry Soup A breath of fresh air to be sure Just a wee poem to offer my friendship As my silly humour she endures! © Jack Ellison 2013
As my silly humour she endures!

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |


Eve T.M.M. is a sweet Canadian gal A product of the wild wild west Living between Edmonton and Calgary Imagine as a cowgirl she's dressed Riding frisky stallions and lassooing steers Roundup time on Circle M Ranch With the majestic Rockies off in the distant A loud Yippy-Ki-O she does chant Now my friends, I could be totally off base Eve may just be a simple city girl Perhaps just a sweet down to earth real lady Sending rancher's heads in a whirl Well I'd like to think she's a sophisticated lady With servants at her beck and call Wearing a diamond studded evening gown Dancing the night away at the ball Eve T.M.M. is a sweet Canadian gal A product of the wild wild west © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Charming Charmaine

Charmaine, the dear soul writes like an angel Her poetry is beautiful and touching She writes with a passion known to only a few You'll find your heart you'll be clutching Some just know how to create those phrases That leave us in awe and wonderment A natural talent that some are born with For others it a struggle and torment But Charming Charmaine has it down pat It's to do with her approach to life Definitely sways the way she writes poetry A style that does surely entice Charmaine, the dear lady is a friend of mine I'm so happy to know this soul Stands tall in the world of romantic poetry So fortunate she's an honour to know! © Jack Ellison 2013
My loving tribute to Charmaine Chircop

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

She Gave Me A Star- A Tribute to F J Thomas

She gave me a star by my name
Just what I’ve dreamed of for so long
There by name, a shinning star
To PM Members I belong
She gave me a star...

She gave me a tiara for my hair
Sent messages for the “Queen”
She chased all my tears far away
A kinder heart I've not seen
She gave me tiara

She gave me a smile for my lips
Brought the sunshine right on in
It’s hard to fathom such sweet care
This friendship of ours is a win
She gave me a smile

I wish for something more to give
Than this simple silly old rhyme
I’d give her what she desired
Something that will last through all time
I’ll give her my love!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

I wanted to say a very humble thank you to F J for her stupendous gift of a PM Membership. If you only knew how long I've wanted it and the reasons why I didn't get around to it....Lots of reasons. Here it is...a gift....a star by my a star in my sky. :) F've been more than kind to me....First the tiara and queen this....I will carry this in my heart....for as long as it beats. Thank you for your wonderful friendship. God bless you!

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

Attila The Hun

Attila the Hun was a kindly old soul He raped and plundered the land With the aid of his murderous henchmen all A truly psychotic man The kind of man you'd like as a friend If you love to ransack and pillage Hitler was another of these murderous souls Marauding each town and village Need more of the likes of Benito Mussolini Such honourable leaders all But I harken back to Attila the Hun His exploits leave me enthralled May seem like I've tumbled over the edge But I blame it on dear Eileen Ghali She poked and prodded me into submission Could no longer dilly and dally © Jack Ellison 2013 Dedicated to my dear good friend Eileen Ghali!

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

My Great Grandpa

Great Grandpa Zerbst, I wish was here
I'd like him still around
He had a herd of Hereford cows
His farmin' sense was sound

He passed away when I was young
I'd only seen him twice
But even though his life was rough
I'm sure that he was nice

At first, he had some horse-drawn rigs
To grow his crop of wheat
A tractor then, in place of them
That had a metal seat

He had a herd of ninety cows
A huge Wyomin' spread
But now a herd of oil-rigs
Are drillin' in their stead

A lot of things Great Grandpa knew
From distant Germany
But now these things I wish I knew
Are buried 'neath a tree

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Jackie Robinson

Supposedly we are all created equal But some are more equal than other How can that be and my question is why Aren't we all supposed to be brothers It's totally baffled me all my life Became aware of it in nineteen forty-six All the attention was on Jackie Robinson The baseball world was transfixed The colour barrier was down forever As out from the dark we emerged I'll never forget that season of awakening When finally discrimination was purged My hero, the super hero of my youth Lived and died with his success Till my very last breath I'll remember Jackie With this giant of a man I was obsessed © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

The tigress' mark

She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.

The ominous reflection of moon 
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.

Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.

Her claws prophesy of vengeance 
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency 
for a soul's annihilation. 

Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.

Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

The Un-Dead

At the Borgo Pass I met a coach and horse,
And the villagers warned me not to go,
They were worried about a supernatural force,
But I had business in Transylvania, though.

The coach rumbled along the Carpathian mountain road,
Through the lightning and pounding rain,
We arrived at an old, darkened abode,
And I thought this trip was all in "vein".

But then opened the great castle door,
And the Count bid me welcome to his house,
He cast no shadow on the floor,
Where scurried a bat and a mouse.

In the mirror he cast no reflection,
On our dinner he did not dine,
And upon my curious inspection,
He drank no water or wine.

Then late that night I awoke with fright,
As something hovered over my bed,
Then I felt a quick, sharp bite,
From a vampire who's eyes glowed red.

Then cried the children of the night,
As all at once, there shined a beam,
I awoke to see a ray of sunlight,
And realized it was all just a dream.

(This poem was my tribute to "Dracula" by Bram Stoker)

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |


Something that lets you express
Feelings that you don’t wanna suppress

Something that can be of mixed emotions
Different themes and distinctions

Something that gives words the power
Of changing hearts, wills and bringing peace to war

Something that gives you your right
Of freedom of speech may you be black or white

Something that can touch your heart, fill your eyes with tears making them watery,
And that something is none other than poetry……..

Poetry on Poetry
Contest entry
Date: 1/18/2013

Copyright © Husna Mirza | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |


It's like a weight lifted off of my heart;
I am no longer torn apart.
Thank God you are safe;
Everything is okay.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Tribute to Five Fabulous Poets

I write of young Timothy
A very thoughtful young man
A thinker among thinkers
He writes to all that he can

He places wonderful comments
And sees life in his own way
Things are so fascinating 
He so enjoys his word play

Then there is my friend Becca
She's sweet and refined
Her comments so generous
They reveal a heart that's kind

What is more spectacular
Is the poems that she has penned
Once I get to reading them
I wish that they didn't end

I have a new friend Freddie
Who may seem a darker sort
But there is much more to him
I am happy to report

He will not sugar coat it
His comments are to the point
When it comes to honesty
He adds color to the joint

Young Anne is a butterfly
As she flutters all about
She touches many people
So I give her this shout out

Her poems like diamonds 
Or perhaps even more rare
There may not be so many
They're all written with such care

I can't forget sweet Yanny 
She is a lovely sweet girl
Each comment a special gift
Each word precious like a pearl

With her own style of writing
She knows how to mesmerize
She can be inspiration
As words dance before my eyes

I wish I could honor more
But I'm limited to five
The poets here at the soup
That all make me feel alive

I am thankful for comments
For all the good and the bad
If they were to stop coming
That would really make me sad

Poem of dedication contest

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

The Perfect Recipe - for Michelle

For these ingredients, check life's pantry.
But be warned: most are hard to find!
However, when mixed in a bowl most pure,
They make a 'dish' that's one-of-a-kind!

Take equal parts of honesty
And gratitude beyond mere words ;
Add to this loyalty, generosity &
Strong conviction in healthy thirds.

You'll need devotion, compassion
And kind thoughtfulness ;
A pinch of pure dedication -
Wrapped in warm trustworthiness.

Now stir in a sense of humour,
Don't go easy on the laughter -
As you'll find this fashionably tasteful,
With a tang that lingers long after.

What amazes about this intriguing dish
 Is how it rises above adversity,
Due to its special resilient essence
Based on home-grown spirituality!

When of this unique creation
You have truly experienced,
Life will no longer be the same:
For it will be immeasureably enriched!

Copyright © Arturus Australis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Blue Jeans

I'm a country boy who needs you
The first time you're washed you bleed blue
You go with all of my T-shirts
If I rip you I will be hurt

As crisp as Mississippi's air
I still will wear you with a tear
You are something I'll never share
Got four or five favorite pair

Something I won't trade khakis for
Brown as bags from the package store
Since my favorite color's blue
I want you in every hue

From the stonewashed to rigid you
When I can't buy I visit you
I'm hoping that they give me you
'Cause your fit I'm addicted to

Copyright © Michael Wyms | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain | |


dreams or illusions of living in peace and harmony
In thinking about life's problems I didn't come undone
images still float in the wind, music of the Harmonie
The magical dream of people on earth living as one

An adolescent desire of a world with a lasting peace
let us justify a bad decision to stop sowing seeds
or are we nomadic people, living like a flock of geese
Life is following the one in front, unsure of where it leads

with ideas, seeds are sown, establishing a path to peace
Can we transcend innovations, to stop following the flocks
to learn people exchanging views possibilities will increase
listening to people and stop throwing metaphoric rocks

"Yesterday, trouble was distant  life a game to be played"
Our people may be gone, but our past lets us be unafraid
My angel seems far away, but memories will never fade
all dreamers, vying in the game of life will never be swayed

I still believe and long for yesterday

for Beatlemania! contest
of Heather Ober

Copyright © Tom Larrow | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

A Labor Of Love

I look you up and look you over, 
better days have left you far behind, 
you're older, but to me you're still appealing, 
yet you draw comments that are less than kind. 

You're neglected, not consulted, 
when an answer is required, 
hidden now behind the others, 
avoided, disregarded, mired. 

I massage your spine with oil and friction, 
restoring your luster to cherish and keep, 
remembering when you were readily handled, 
sought after, popular, top of the heap. 

I'm so busy these days with my key restorations, 
I scarcely have time, and I don't have a say, 
so you'll have to wait for my deft ministrations, 
a labor of love, postponed for a quieter day. 

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

The Grand Old Game Charlie Hebert, with respect and affection

Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway 
he fusses and frets with his lie; 
he's been here for ever commanding the links 
ever since you and I were knee high. 

Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes 
for the chance to play just one more round, 
replacing his divots, observing the rules 
and keeping his feet on the ground.

Always nattily dressed he is ready 
to tee up and go for the green; 
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck, 
but he's crafty, and wily, and mean!

It's the day of the championship and he is ready 
to teach these young men how it's played; 
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par, 
he will show them how great shots are made.

On the final hole two men are tied for the lead, 
they are edgy as each eyes the pin; 
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left, 
and Charlie makes par for the win!


In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score, 
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers and to bad lies and to rain, 
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart!

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Let Me

Let me bottle up your anguish and throw it out to sea
Let me swallow your pain forever and ask your tears to flee
Let me take you by the hand and walk you through the park
Let me blanket you with Love and protect you from the dark

Let me give you my only hart and melt away your sorrows
Let me hug your golden soul and give you new tomorrows
Let me carry your heavy cross and adorn you like Kings and Queens
Let me comfort you forever even in your dreams

Let me give you the sky and clouds along with the color blue
Let me give you a summer’s smile cheek to cheek with a cherry hue
Let me give you Angel’s Wings so you may soar beyond the trees
Let me give you waves of Joy and laughter that flutter in the breeze.

To all the Mom's & Dad's who ever took care of a sick seen through their eyes.
And to my sisters in law Paula & Lisa...with Love...^WW^...Nov. 21, 2015

Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

The Loyalty Of Carol

In the dictionary beside the word “loyal” Is a picture of my dear friend Carol Have posted close to two thousand poems Missing ONE would cause a scandal They'd hire the poem police to check her out To make sure dear Carol's okay Also to make sure her menagerie is still thriving And Dragon is still firing away Carol, dear Carol, just want you to know Your loyalty is beyond any I've known Not sure this old guy deserves such treatment Appreciate the friendship you've shown © Jack Ellison 2015
A Tribute poem to Carol Eastman

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

Wally And The Angels

...inspired by a Dylan Thomas short story

A breezy day, and two boys biking down the lane 
past meadows green with envy, soft as spring. 
Picnic-packed and ready for the day's adventure. 
They passed hikers who cried "Hey, lend us yer bikes!"  
The lads whizzed by, not giving them a second thought.

"I bet them's fire cows," Jimmy said, (he had a wild 
imagination.) "Nah, them's Holsteins, don't be daft!" 
said John. The air was full of magic, and the sky
alive with seagulls. The ocean glinted to their right,
sparkling like the twinkle in a young girl's eye.

They hurried to their destination, breathless with
anticipation, hurtling to a Neverland they'd mostly
seen in pictures, a rocky outcrop, pounded by
the waves, a fearsome confrontation with the sea,
a playground where imaginations flourish.

“I bet there's dragons in them caves,” said Jimmy,
"and trolls and such, with fangs and fiery breath!"
“You're crazy!” countered John, (he read the Bible),
“'sides there's Jesus, He will shelter you from death
for now, make sure you're well and in good health." 

Skittering on slabs as slick as ice fields, 
tottering like lambs who've found their legs;
they played until the frigid water beckoned,
then splashed and frolicked, ducking from the heat.
Opening their back packs now, they settled down to eat.

It was then, the first time they'd discussed it,
Wally, Jimmy's brother, gone to God;
dead from cancer barely two weeks prior,
disconnected, laid beneath the sod.
Their tones were sullen, conversation somber.

“Is Wally with the Angels?” Jimmy questioned.
“Yes he is,” said John, “and safe at rest.”
They cycled home in silence, friends forever,
and settled in their beds, forever blessed,
the moon endowed their dreams, a welcome guest.

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Impeccable Rebecca

Rebecca's poetry is impeccable I am totally blown away By this writer of beautiful poetry In a class by herself, Triple A Not only is her poetry totally divine But to hear her recite it, I melt With a voice as soft as an angel's voice As delicate as I've ever felt Honoured to call Rebecca a friend This talented very sweet soul I'm touched by this kind hearted lady Rebecca with a heart of gold Rebecca's poetry is impeccable I am totally blown away Her voice is as soft as that of an angel She the sunshine of my day My loving tribute to dear Rebecca Lucas © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |


(Note: Dedicated to the memory of Michael Jackson,
the legendary music artiste who impacted all who knew
his musical accomplishments, and who love his songs.)

There once lived a man who made hip music:
MJ made dance grand with vocalised magic;
And the world was filled with marvellous moves;
His voice brought such thrills and awesome his grooves!

Starting out easy with Ben and Happy,
Morning Glow sweetly touched Music And Me;
Telling us Music with I'll Be There jive,
Someday ecstatic to One Day In Your Life.

Then singing Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough,
Sensational pop and fabulous stuff;
To go Off The Wall with Rock With You fine,
Fine duet on the ball with The Girl Is Mine.

Then glimpse Billie Jean to simply Beat It,
Jazz Human Nature to P.Y.T.** bit;
Burst of nightmare swing with suspense Thriller,
Wanna Be Starting' Somethin' to jazz fillers.

Man In The Mirror forged good things to Bad,
Then turned bizarre lodge in Neverland glad;
Dirty Diana thumbed to Leave Me Alone,
Eccentric ways numbed to bare all but bones.

Smooth Criminal danced Liberian Girl,
A fond festival amidst worldwide swirl;
Heal The World followed Remember The Time,
The legend hallowed in dancer and rhymes.

Yes Gone Too Soon for You Are Not Alone,
An Earth Song for goons with dinosaur bones;
And in your mad Scream, They Don't Care About Us,
Your Neverland dream crumbling slowly to dust.

A music HiStory, fine compilations,
An anthology of Pop Hit sensations;
By now sad scandals plagued persecution,
Events and harsh vandals sought compensation.

Sad dismay hurled end with the world in gloom,
Lethal cocktail blend of pain-killers sang doom;
Who Is It there that will Give In To Me,
Your face and fame set in sad misery.

Yet your magical, mysterious dance moves,
Grips hysterical, pulse of endless grooves;
Once you said in song: I'll Be There, just call...
Memory lives strong in your fans and all.

Your songs echo now, still glide and enchant;
Legacy endows a fated moon dance;
No one can forget the music you made;
The world in regret yet busy with song trade!

Then, once upon a Michael Jackson...
Dance and song beyond the disco traction,
Gone Too Soon the man, the signature moon dance,
Thank you our dear friend, who brought change and chance.

The music plays still for we Smile as you sang,
We find yet goodwill in Music with thanks;
Unique sensations these lyrical tunes,
The feelings function, sad hearts in sand dunes!

The Way You Make Me Feel plays on the radio,
Your song anthems we love in sound stereo;
So from time to time, we wander and sing along:
Whisper some stray rhyme from your old-time songs!

We Are The World in crisis and in lack;
Glimpses in-between in madness and slack;
Your going away brought your music back,
So farewell MJ, our maestro of track.

Yes now and again we say a little prayer
That in other plains, you find rest wayfarer;
May peace now increase in happy Happyland,
May your music ease in soul spheres most grand!

(Note:  **P.Y.T. = Pretty Young Thing)

Leon Enriquez
03 Apr 2014

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |


O luckless maid! such beauteous 
blush with modest blandishments 
did'st flash to woo a Prince 
o'erthrown, in madness' grasp! 

Still-born, ne'er meant to flourish, 
true love was the hapless prey, 
Polonius lay cold, extinguish'd 
in the Dane's misguided sway. 

It drove thee mindless, to a frenzy, 
death thy only destination, 
borne by rippling river's eddy 
to thy final resting place. 

Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

My Beloved Land

This loving tribute is long overdue After a thousand poems or more Time to honour my country called Canada Spectacular from shore to shore The hometown charm of folks down east To the grandeur of the Rockies and beyond No wonder Canadians are proud as punch Sharing a unique common bond On that great expanse of pink on your map Just above the great USA Lives a gentle peace loving bunch of souls Sure hope we can keep it that way Not able to challenge the super powers Competing in the Olympic games Delighted just to share in the excitement Winning or losing, it's the same Happy to call Canada my home Where magnificent vistas abound My beloved country stands straight and tall It's beauty the world over is renowned © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

West Coast Richard

Discovered a new friend, he lives in B.C.
Nicknamed him West Coast Richard
Most days he's up at the crack of dawn
Like me, but he shaves off his whiskers

His poetry's creative, exceptional bar none
He's just about to publish a book
Wish him luck he's certainly gonna need it
Watch for it at your local book nook

Sometimes friends just happen on the scene
Unexpectedly enriching our lives
Richard most definitely is one of those souls
Like me he's enjoying the ride

Strange how friendships suddenly develop
Without prior notice or warning
A sincere young fellow without an agenda
Wakes up with a smile each morning

Without getting sloppy or overly verbose
I'll end this with a wish that you all
Find a good friend like West Coast Richard
Enjoy life and just have a ball!

© Jack Ellison 2012

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012