These Animal Quatrain poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Animal. These are the best examples of Animal Quatrain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
The little girl sat alone on the step
Thinking of what she had said and done
Sad and alone, she needed a friend
Gladly there appeared just the one
A cold nose and a friendly lick
Her dog snuggled up without question
As always he needed no explanations
There with the greatest of canine affection
Inspired by his 1878 picture- Sympathy
go to Allposters.com/
Note: Following a rash of local breakins, thieves murdered two people who happened to be
at home when they entered. This event produced a lot of anxiety for me and James was
kind enough to help divert my attention by joining in this write. Many thanks to James, Tim
and Dane Ann for their support during this difficult time. -- Carolyn
A hungry gray feline sees a mouse; quickly does she pounce
Instincts come into play as jungle creatures eye their prey
Natural selection rules the vast animal kingdom
By striking fast they earn the right to live another day
We read in the papers and we watch on the news
As I look out my window, and ponder man's thoughts
What do we see, through our eyes as we view
Our ability to kill and leave one's life nought
Complicated survival games play out each strenuous day
From the frigid Arctic tundra to torrid dark jungles
Beasts on the prowl are trekking nature's intended path
Another victim falls as distant thunder rumbles
Opportunists linger as the perpetrators dare
Man stalking down dark alleys and dimly-lit streets
Confronted, accosted in criminal stare
Where the innocents in danger, generally meet
Other members of the animal kingdom have no choice
They slay only to keep themselves and their families alive
But it's man who plays the most dangerous of games
Killing for thrill, politics or greed; how can man survive?
It's the evil of man who takes what he wants
With the blade of a knife, with his terror taunts
His escalation from flint to gun
This most wonderful world in masculine haunt
If man continues to develop harsh weapons
The skies may explode in carnivorous fashion
Consuming not just one animal species, but all
Leaving angels to mourn the death of God's creations
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
Cows bellow, low, heads between rails
such large deep sad eyes, such full bags.
For whom do they await, no one home
to let them out, share out their milk.
Not long ago I saw you wandering off with him
his hand caressing your neck, gripping your arm
holding you stiff, obedient to his will
and you were bound to follow, no sound
escaped your lips, and me, why am I watching
for the scene to play out? Don’t we all know
don’t we all grieve, for the coming of that day
when cowl slips down, the bellow, low aches.
You won’t come home, will you my dear.
I guess I paid the right price for a job well done
Your cheating heart won’t bestir us to wait
Never more. This farm is sold outright.
Some cat entered my room one night
I thought it was a ghost
It smelled like something had just died
But I must oblige my guest as the host
I turned on the light and there it was
An obnoxious opossum at best!
Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous!
Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest!
I left the house with a shutter
Before I realized I was heavily surrounded
By cats on all sides, up and under
The house they had all just rounded!
In truth I was perturbed on all levels
That I began to realize in horror
That damn opossum had spawned these little devils!
And tonight I must end this terror!
I then ran straight to the kitchen
Aware of the opossum inside
If I give up the tuna and ditch um’
Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive
The persistent cats scratched at the holes
Those buggers—those meddlers!
They could have been thieves—if not trolls!
Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers!
Worst of all in this dilemma
Tomorrow was grocery day
There were no more cans of tuna
All my fish had swam away!
Somehow one got in
And the rest came barreling through
I ran toward my room to him
The opossum looked so distressed and blue
The little beady eyes pierced my soul
And I knew from then on he was my friend
He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls
And escape a most pitiful end!
I made up my mind at last
And picked up my trusty broom
Come on in—I dare yah tah pass!
Ain’t no feline coming through this room!
Glowing eyes burned with intent
And the yowling grew loud as hell
The little bullies think they can take my guest!
They’ll fly like birds they will!
That night was a battle like none other
A battle I will proudly say I won
I gained the friend of my life—a brother
My pet’s a load of fun!
As much as I love a neighbor cat
They are a little scary as a race
Thankfully a broom will push them back
And put them in their place
My opossum is a sweet little thing
And I protect him with my life
I’ll never judge a critter again
Till actions bring it to light
The seemingly tranquil sky
blooming with stars soon
pierced by a distant cry
that seems to swoon.
Beneath dense trees standing tall
to touch dark canvas painted
after dusk, prowls the epiphany of all
mother nature’s tainted.
The wise are often alone
and the dangerous hated,
but they express in moan
their solitude, once more grated.
Gradually their voices unite
in a song across the valley,
seeming to smite
all of innocence’s nest.
The moon in her splendour moves
to comfort the carnivores that commence,
and yet her beam soothes
not the beasts’ sense.
Torn between wrong and right
the moon spreads her swanlike wings amidst
the howls of her lovers, the kings of the night…
among the wolves in the mist.
Black cat lays on low fence wall,
veiled in cover of night.
Spell broken by owners call,
evenings victims respite.
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.
Sam, the box turtle, sauntered down deserted gravel road;
when he bumped into Elli, a gorgeous, slender, green toad.
Together they stopped to admire the rustic scenery;
noting, Bunny would like hiding eggs in all that greenery.
Easter will be in a few weeks, kids will have fun hunting eggs;
Bunny would be quite busy hopping on two spindly legs.
Sadie, a monarch butterfly fluttered into their path;
she was perched on a tree branch taking her daily sun bath.
“Hi!” she said to Sam and Sadie. “Have you heard hottest news?
The Easter Bunny was murdered, on the headline reviews.”
Sam and Sadie were speechless, much too shocked to say the least;
who murdered the Easter Bunny, who was the wicked beast?
No one could think of anyone who wanted Bunny killed,
the whole town was suspected, everyone thoroughly grilled.
It couldn’t be Sam or Sadie; they were not at the scene;
whoever it was, they were desperate, extremely mean.
Small town sheriff investigated the deadly crime site;
there lay Bunny sprawled along the roadside, eggs colored bright.
Struck down by angry mother hawk, thought he robbed her love nest;
sheriff pulled out the handcuffs, placed mother under arrest.
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
You’re always dragging on me--
got your sticky icky leavings all
pver the place,
any place most inconvenient.
Always kind of spooky, nervous
but defiant too, back up
step out, get nose to nose
as if to say you’re here for good.
I know it’s you, at night, tasting
my eyes, making me wiggle
and a little itchy
squirmy but never squished, somehow…
One day there’s one of you,
lurking in a corner, the next, a window,
under floorboards, cupboards, skittering
all over my floor and ceilings
and in my clothes so when I undress
there you are, sitting like a star
right on my breast. Okay. I needed that.
To scream. Whack at something
so terribly invasive, biting,
so terribly unobtrusive, until
you leave your icky sticky leavings
as bumps all over me. When
were you walking over me, in the dark
while I dreamed, taking over
saying I’m a leaving little spider left.