Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Quatrain Flower Poems | Quatrain Poems About Flower

These Quatrain Flower poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Flower. These are the best examples of Quatrain Flower 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 | |

Flower Petals in the Wind

Though it seems like petals fell by the wind But actually the flower pushed them out One by one they would fall from the flower But somehow the wind seemed to know no doubt Soon as the petals came loose the wind blew Carried them far in the air, so privileged But the flower held firm to those last few It wasn’t letting the wind gain leverage But as the petals came loose, and wind blows Petals would dance a special loving dance Sometimes two would intertwine twice as strong Flowing was second nature like a trance Powers of the flower outweigh the wind But the petals when free get a joy ride No matter the petal, wind will get you Free to flow down, nature you must abide
Russell Sivey Entrant into Gail Angel Doyle's "Petals In The Wind" contest 1/19/2013


Details | Quatrain | |

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)


Details | Quatrain | |

The Peony

She bent  softly over the smooth water
Her fingers gently caressing the blue
A peony clasped to her bosom
Its petals soft and pink and true...

The artist captured this brief moment
Brush strokes telling us their story
The maiden ripe for the time of love 
The peony clothed in peaceful glory...

Ancient blossom so full bodied
Yet delicate in scent and grace
A flower captured in Asian legends
With bowing head and subtle face.  

For the flower contest..


Details | Quatrain | |

The Rose of Poetry

I see your work budding, like a flower each new day. Slowly blooming more and more, bringing color to a time that’s gray. Your colorful petals are amazing, the way you reflect the sun. And your beauty still remains, after the beauty of the day is done. For your work radiates, here on Poetry Soup. We are all poetic flowers; part of a big garden group. I am writing this poem, to the poetic flower you are. You glisten each new day, from way, way, afar. If life was a big garden, a flower you would be. With flourished poetic petals, named the Rose of Poetry. ______________________ For Belinda Parish a fellow souper for her supportive comments.


Details | Quatrain | |

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
this flower bed,
is just for you.

Among the stone,
and in the mud,
a flower shone,
a beautiful bud.

It grew so tall,
proud and strong,
it learned all,
right and wrong.

Giving it water,
and warm sun,
your only daughter,
learned about fun.

Mommy come see,
look what I did,
now I can be,
a grownup kid.

This flower bed,
is just for you,
with roses, red,
and violets, blue.




Happy Mother's Day, Mom!


Details | Quatrain | |

TULIPS IN WHITE



    Gentle moonlight,oh fragrance sweet
With tulips you enthrall
And drench an evening's flame, complete
Beneath your misty call.

    Skyscape lends magical delight
To twirl upon the dew
Adorning petals laced in white
As glassy tints imbue.

    Under the clouds' ivory beams
Where stars dangle in space
My dream catcher's fancy redeems
The joy of buds' embrace.

    And never will this scene be lost
While I here guard the heap
Of tulips’ pearled frills, well embossed
Immaculate like sleep.


'''''''''''''''''''''
Something In White Contest
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
By nette onclaud... 1/03/2014


Details | Quatrain | |

African Diaspora

The African Diaspora was when flowers were trapped & caged 

Each day I think and wanted to see them free

I see why... Your African beauty deserves to be picked

I realize that its just a figment of my imagination that their creation is truly magnificent. 


Details | Quatrain | |

Wildflowers

The wildflower begins its life as a seed
Within itself it contains all it will need
Along with the rain and the sun to feed
To become something we can't it will succeed

For despite the problems that around them lie
The wildflower stays beautiful as time goes by
Not realizing we no longer stop to see
Or care anymore how fragile they can be

They continue to fill the air with their sweet perfume
But as time goes by we give them less and less room
More concrete and cities in their path now loom
I'm afraid their future could hold some serious gloom

So as down this road of life you race
The next time you happen upon a place
Where wildflowers put a smile on your face
Take the time to stop and pick yourself a vase!

©Donna Jones


Details | Quatrain | |

Beauty In Imperfection

The rugged bark of an old tree
with imperfection due to its cracks
is a wondrous thing of beauty
and it's the imperfection that attracts

We know that a star-shaped flower 
does not make a perfect star
Yet it has a certain loveliness
that induces a sense of wonder

A hand-crafted ceramic bowl
because of its asymmetry
is a wonderful artefact
that is valued very highly

An old-time cobblestone street
has a unique charm and quaintness
due to its imprecise pattern
that gives it its loveliness

Perfection is not easy to attain
and even more difficult to sustain
Beauty lies in Imperfection
and they are a natural combination



Details | Quatrain | |

The Orchid

The Orchid
As the orchid blooms its long beautiful flower
The perfume of which fills the air hour by hour
The strength in its leave when open from bud
No decay just a little wrinkle as in age it should
 
If Orchis the son of the nymph and satyr
Had not drunk of the vine and showed his desire
As he drank long and hard at the feast of Dionysus
His eyes fell on a priestess and caused all the fuss.

He wanted her, was his drunken decree
And he didn’t care if she didn’t want he
He coveted the priestess as he drank by the hour
Determined he was soon her going to deflower.

His advances she said she would not take
But he did not listen and her he would make
But for this insult to a revered priestess
The gods were determined he’d pay for her distress

He would not go unpunished this was THEIR decree
And ripped limb from limb they decreed he would be
The bacchanalians did tear him apart and justly so
He should have accepted the priestess she  said NO!

The father of Orchis prayed the Gods would restore
The son that he loved and would for evermore
After they listened to the prayers of a father distraught
The Gods returned Orchis not as a man but as a flower they thought.

Orchis became the flower with the strange sounding name
Whose beauty enchants and its perfume does the same
The orchid, the bulbs shape we will recognise today
The part under the body, where a man likes us to play.

© 9/02/2013/~GG~


Details | Quatrain | |

Flowers of Good

There is a symbolic intrinsic phase Where the fairies cover within the field Dancing flowers, where they flutter about Seemingly to transverse through books that yield These are flowers of good, quite the great speak Blooms made by hearts of joyful intercourse Aligned by perfected colorized glow Complacent by the now, due in their course This green world in which we live in so filled Brought upon us a sense of the fairies Where we try to work with their heartfelt sighs Our great interest comes from our diaries Flowers of good that influences now Powers unlike any we’ve instilled before Feeling their infallible grace upon That we could surely never reach much more
Russell Sivey


Details | Quatrain | |

Butterflies and Honey Bees



In the meadow, weeds flowering
By a cluster of old shade trees
Make a lovely scene attracting
Some butterflies and honey bees

Butterflies sipping each flower
Flit happily from bloom to bloom
Flaunting their wings of gossamer
Giving each other lots of room

Several colours of the rainbow
Painted on their gossamer wings
Put on a brilliant colour show
Such a happy feeling it brings

Bees also join in the feasting
Imbibing each flower's nectar
Doing so with joyful humming
In their role as honey maker

Weed flowers are in Nature's brood
Springing up where ever they please
They assist in providing food
For butterflies and honey bees




Details | Quatrain | |

Green land

The land is green
In flag and corns
Her coat is green
And her steeds' horns.

The land is green 
So footest her harvest
Her coat is green
And so win her chest.


Details | Quatrain | |

Outside My Bay Window

My house has a bay window, quite special It overlooks my great flower garden Beauty shines where the moon carries along No piece of the flowers is a burden Nightfall enlightens the flowers out there From the bay window I can see the light Touching the flowers calmly and with peace I sigh with contentment to view this sight I finish my drink and turn to go back When I glanced right at some fireflies around I smile at this beautiful scene with joy The whole picture is a wondrous surround Russell Sivey


Details | Quatrain | |

Quiet

High atop the mountain's peak
Where the wind does softly speak
Brushed against the midnight flower
Locked up in her mighty tower.


Details | Quatrain | |

In Defense Of The Rain

Some folks like to complain
And are very fickle
They fume when rain is falling
And fret at a mere drizzle

Wild birds and animals
They all need the rain
Which gives them water
For their lives to sustain

The plants and the trees
And all the lovely flowers
For them to grow and flourish
They also need the showers

The food crops that are grown
To provide food for us all
Each of them would perish
If the rain did not fall

So please think of these things
Before you start complaining
And creating a lot of fuss
The next time rain is falling


Details | Quatrain | |

The power of the Morning glory

The power of the Morning Glory

The morning glory reaches up
She tries to touch the sun
Her deep mauve flowers hide away
Until the days begun

When the sun it does shine bright
Those morning glory flowers
They open up to life again
Beneath the suns sweet power

Most look down on this lovely shrub
Because she grows too fast
As she takes over everything
And grows so very vast

Yet how she touches me with love
As she shows her strength to me
Oh, she with all her loveliness
Over powers the vastest tree

She proves to me that nature is
The highest kind of power
And dazzles me with the loveliness
Of each of her mauve flowers.

Quatrain 4 July 2014 @ 1322hrs.


Details | Quatrain | |

I Married My Flower Girl

This may sound a little bizarre
But listen to my tale of love
A tale so rare, so tender, so sweet
Transcends all others above

Way back in nineteen-fifty-seven
Sweet Linda and I were married
Our flower girl was her eight year old sister
A bouquet of roses she carried

Linda and I enjoyed many great years
Till tragedy struck in ninety-eight
Contracting a very rare form of cancer
A disease that sealed her fate

Sadly she passed away early next year
Losing her courageous fight
Gave her blessing to our flower girl and me
Her dying wish... we would unite

Never guessing two years down the road
Our lives would again collide
Flower girl Cathie so demure and sweet
Walked down the aisle as my bride

@Jack Ellison 2012


Details | Quatrain | |

Climbing the Hills

Field is brazen with colorful flowers There are orange and yellow ones out there Not sparse but together in perfect clumps Climbing the hills, showing life in the air They shine in the sun with such pure delight Skipping the dim greys of the cloudy days Love is in the heart from this prime moment Spread out all on this field in many ways
Russell Sivey


Details | Quatrain | |

free cee MISTY ROSES

EVERYONE KNOWS
THERE ARE NO THORNS UPON THIS ROSE
   ~free cee!~


Details | Quatrain | |

Gransmother's Legacy, Number 2

On a trip to Grandmother's, 
we'd hear Mother say,
"Your next botany lesson 
will soon be on its way."

A visit invariably meant 
an immediate tour of her garden,
while the roast in the oven 
began to shrivel and harden.

Our stomachs would growl, 
our patience would wane,
as she spoke each plant's
 history and worth again.

A friend questions
 my knowledge of flowers.
Stomachache returns briefly,
 recalling all those hours.

Slowly, awareness dawns 
of my grandmother's legacy;
a love for earth's harvest 
stems from the gift she gave. 
Her words wash over me, 
the scene before me transposes,
as her voice again expounds
 the virtue and fragrance of


Details | Quatrain | |

free cee THE MYSTICISM OF A ROSE

PLEASE DON'T ASK ME FOR I DO NOT KNOW
I CAN'T TELL YOU WHAT MAKES THE ROSE GLOW
I KNOW SHE LOVES THE RAIN
AND THE THUNDER AND LIGHTENING SHE CAN'T EXPLAIN

ALL I KNOW IS I'LL NEVER GET CLOSE ENOUGH TO TOUCH HER PETALS SO SOFT
BUT WHEN I COMMUNICATE WITH HER MY HEART IS LIFTED ALOFT
THERE'S NOT MUCH MORE FOR ME TO SAY
EXCEPT TO TELL YOU THIS ROSE CAN BRIGHTEN ANYONE'S DAY

SHE SHARES THE GARDEN WITH GARDENIAS AND SUCH
AND I CAN LOOK BUT NEVER TOUCH
WHEN I'M DOWN AND OUT I LOOK TO THE PAST
AND ONLY KNOW THAT MY ADORATION IS SURE TO LAST

THIS ROSE KNOWS HOW MUCH I CHERISH THE GARDEN IN WHICH SHE GROWS
AND THE WAY SHE EASES ME BY BEING A MYSTIC ROSE
THIS BUD IS ALL TOO OFTEN MY SALVATION
AND I BLESS THE GARDEN FOR HER CREATION
    (c) 2012...copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
please don't allow chicken little's prophecy to be correct, only you can do that

  (C) 2012.....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~


O


Details | Quatrain | |

Little Patches Of Beauty

Plant a garden by the roadside,
so passerby's can see,
the beauty of the flowers
you have planted there for me.

"Me" meaning all of us,
who do not have a yard,
and appreciate the beauty
displayed in your front yard.

The beauty of bright flowers
are like a balm to me.
As if God's smiling face is there
for passerby's to see.

Flowers soothe the spirit,
and help the heart expand,
when I see little patches of beauty,
all over God's good land.

Those flowers in the sunlight,
their colors bright and gay,
are treasures I'll behold,
when again, I walk your way.


Details | Quatrain | |

DEEP POETRY and REALITY



Deep poetry has its own reality Instrumental in setting the mind free From the confinement of this mundane world Transporting us to wondrous realms untold It is manifested in Blake's poetry Which uplifts the mind and sets it free A heaven is seen in a wildflower Eternity is viewed in an hour Khayyam's moving finger writes on time's wall Once written, there's no erasing at all Rumi's beloved is a different kind A manifestation of the divine With Shelley's skylark and Keats nightingale The music of their birdsong tells the tale A world beyond what we normally see The world of deep poetry's reality
REFERENCES: 1) Auguries of Innocence - William Blake To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. 2) The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam - Omar Khayyam The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it. 3) Oh Beloved - Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi Oh Beloved, take me. Liberate my soul. Fill me with your love and release me from the two worlds. If I set my heart on anything but you let fire burn me from inside. Oh Beloved, take away what I want. Take away what I do. Take away what I need. Take away everything that takes me from you. 4) To a Skylark - Percy Byshe Shelley 5) Ode to a Nightingale - John Keats The above-stated poems reflect the world of deep poetry reality that I have mentioned.


Details | Quatrain | |

NOT LISTENING

NOT  LISTENING


Choral gladioli  in formal circles,
Standing awkward beneath the pines’
Shade  -  their  pinks and purples
Gasping in the gloom for sunshine.

Immersed in a happy crowd mustered
Around them  - dandelions in masses
Like children in unruly jostling clusters,
A natural  attraction - yellow dresses

Dancing  to the music  of the breeze,    
Laughing  and touching heads, 
Fast growing, well  rooted -  at ease:
They want to be here, they‘re glad.

Gladioli  are ordered  there in rings
Dutifully participatory,
Rendering songs an outsider sings
In unheeding dandelion  territory.

......................................................................................
Written   27  July 2014 
(I wrote this when watching the formal beds of flowers
 in a somewhat overgrown garden in the city.)


Details | Quatrain | |

Uninvited Guests

Early this morning, I found,
much to my chagrin,
the flowers in my garden
were as if they’d never been.

Bitten off above the soil,
green stubs left aground.
Mad enough to spit nails,
I fussed and stomped around.

It was easy to discover,
who the culprits were.
They left telling evidence
indented in the dirt there.

Their hoof prints tracked
all around the flowerbed;
no blossoms for my soul today,
food in their stomachs instead.



Details | Quatrain | |

Countdown

Our hill was steep, red clay rock;
hardly anything thrived there.
Stubborn blossoms of meager size
bobbed on stems spindly and bare.

The green shoots struggled up 
thru last year's mulch and sticks,
to leaf and bud and then unfold
a crown of rosebuds, I counted six.

But lo, one morning, I came out
and found there, to my surprise,
one rose had vanished, poof,
now they numbered only five.

No tracks betrayed the thief,
revealing why the stem was bare.
Throughout the day, I kept watch
but of the culprit, saw not a hair.

Early next morn I sprang from bed
and rushed right out the door.
Oh, no - hungry beast was here
and left me roses numbering four.

Rain welcomed the following day.
Through the window, I could see-
a rose a day this creature needs.
Catching raindrops, thirsty three.

That night, planning to keep watch,
maybe whop him with my shoe;
I fell asleep and woke to find,
he'd done his deed and left me two.

With next day's dawn and rain gone,
sneaky thief came with the sun,
munched his breakfast on his own.
Lovely roses surviving, only one.

When night settled, I set the alarm,
awoke and rose at early dawn.
A tiny chipmunk of great charm
held a rose within his arms.

He sat there in the cutest pose,
nibbling on the last pink rose.
Throw my shoe, do you suppose?
No, I smiled and watched the show.


Details | Quatrain | |

Vesta's Cousin

I was your flower and you my buzzing bee
I feared your sting, but could not wait for the butterfly
From chrysallis to come, your dance enraptured me
And I mesmerized let you with my golden pollen fly.

The pollen gone left me lusterless and without hope
That I can seed more than memory of you
An African princess that with my stung heart eloped
Leaving a stalk to wilt in the vanity of dew.

Someone else drinks your honey, and suck your comb's
Sweet essence now, but my nectar made it, and fed
Your brood of desire. My roots are anchored in my loam's
Firm embrace, while you still flit to every flower bed.

No vestal hour for me, no children from the fallen glee
Of love's short cycle that uncycled me. My petals fall
Evening draws her curtain on hope and life's certainty
Men may drink your honey, but I have tasted your gall.