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Flower Quatrain Poems | Quatrain Poems About Flower

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

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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


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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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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.


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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


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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


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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~


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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



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