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Music Quatrain Poems | Quatrain Poems About Music

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

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Details | Quatrain |

Across the Universe

   Across the universe

Has there ever been a band, 
That so many understand
Life changing music, made and played, 
By courtesy, of their hand

Imagination limitless, 
Creations lit the spark in us
Visions of a better time, unreal sublime, 
Took away, the dark in us

Those were the heady days, 
Absorbing us in many ways
Seducing ears, eyes filled with tears,
With how their songs amaze

Now I recall how sad we were, 
At the setting of the sun
But all good things, must come to end, 
When all is said and sung 

I would wrap up all those lines,
That tingle jingle at the nerves
And send them in a rocket ship, 
To burst, across the universe

Nothings gonna change their world
Nothings gonna change their words
Nothings gonna change their world
As they fly across the universe




 
For Beatlemania Contest
Poem Written 7 March 13




 



Details | Quatrain |

High Hopes

Before we implode or reach cluster one
What do you want from me, as you humans dry run
We are Poles apart in what you and I do
Marooned you will be, if you don't turn to be true

I am only but a sphere, but your wearing the inside out
Our futures lost for words as we enter life's drought
There is time for dialogue to take it back
Will it be a great day for freedom, or will we enter our black

Around the table of powers we have to keep talking
We had high hopes when we stooped, we may cease to stop walking
It beggars belief that we are heading into strife
Maybe one day we'll acknowledge, that were coming back to life









http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/music-3.php


Details | Quatrain |

Give me this Water

There's a place under the sun-which provide shade for
everyone. Where is this place! not in a place of refuge, but
stored within yourself-providing an overflowing river of ever-
lasting prudentcy too anyone?... If you feel it - Shout! "Give me
this Water".
       This dampsel in this story come's at the point were absolute
direction was needed and finds herself speaking to the Messiah-who
would provide her with direction and deep quinching thirst for proph-
etic neccessities to get one's life in order. "Give me this water", are 
you at that point now? right now, whereas the decision you've made
has brought you upon that crossroad of your life.  A life whereas we're
sleeping with anyone, most times the wrong one, all looking for love
and emptiness has mis-lead us to become complacent and a nation
of unprotective boom-mer's has emerged and our live's has no order.
    Jesus say's - I will give you water, water that will provide fulfillment
of Place & Grace. Running to the next town she tells everyone come-
meet this man who has told me everything of my past and of myself.
This-this man-for he must be the Messiah, he speaks to me about a
special water, that shall be an atonement unto his Kingdom.  These
folk's come from all the places north of the border. Together we all
shout!  "GIVE ME THIS WATER".


Details | Quatrain |

Music and Meditation

Written by John Moses Freeman

Music and Meditation

~A Mozart symphony to soothe one’s soul,
meditation’s friend is good music’s blend.
 ~Quiets minds considerably so I’m told,
good music and vacation is man's friend.

~Meditations and soothing music relates,
put on a good record, do yoga stance.
~Drives out bad manners, bad spirits vacate,
bad thoughts of one’s mind, like ants in the pants!

For and in honor of Dr Ram
And contest: Music and Meditation


Details | Quatrain |

Rick Roll

Rick, you got me once again;
I'm tired of feeling dumb.
Curse your mindless hyperlinks!
Kiss my big fat bum!

Rick, I'll never pass it on,
On this day or another.
Let the halfwits have their fun.
Let them have their druthers.



© 2011, R. Erin Lenth


Details | Quatrain |

The Magic Guitarist

The thrumming thrumming thrumming can seem so very near as fingers strumming strumming make magic that I hear. Your fine guitar - passionate - What longing it can bring! As you stroke the strings of it, my heart is quivering! I wait for that resplendence - melodious and low - I know will soon commence. Your sweet words soon will flow. Your voice which hums, lilts and croons (forever gorgeously) a plethora of love tunes, keeps on bewitching me. I can’t know just who you are, but I can feel your glow as your music with guitar spills from my radio. For the Sounds Poetry Contest of Frank H. and now for Nathan's Magic Contest


Details | Quatrain |

Painting My Husband

His squarish jaw, waggles when he thinks,
holding his fingers entwined at his waist.
He stares past his silvery frame, sinks
into mind, until I break in and say hi.

His thin silvery hair, is plush with curls at neck.
He stoops over as if time has weighed in
I see him counting, saying what the heck
here’s a bird, a butterfly, noisy squirrels.

His hands have a pain in them, all webbed
inside, pulling muscles taut, but they wave
they stroke the air, my legs, the seas ebbed
the sand, the sky, building the future in mind.

And when he picks up his violin mistress,
he dances her, never still this man of mine.
His harmonica hoots the day’s stresses,
digging out his soul, bending him like grass.

Sometimes I have to silence his motions,
hold him close to heart, let him sleep.
But always he plays out his commotion
making me music, making him mine.


Details | Quatrain |

No Words



Long ago, near a quiet lake lived The People
Living as one with Mother Earth and Father Sun
One day there came to them, a beautiful boy
Straight and strong, but of words he had none

With The People he grew to glorious manhood
But still he had no way to speak of his heart
So with love and patience Grandfather made a flute
And then No Words and his flute were never apart

You could find him in the first morning rays
Or in the quiet evening's soft comforting shade
Speaking to The People and to the spirit world
With the music his grandfather's flute had made

It's haunting notes spoke of the beauty around
Of the life lived and loved by the water blue
Rising up to fly with the wind and the clouds
The music of a No Words man of the Sioux


Barbara Gorelick..for the " Tell His Story" contest
Hosted by Constance, the Rambling Poet


Details | Quatrain |

Playin' Man

A completely true story....

My grandpa was a playin' man
He had a local four piece band
I was without a doubt his number one fan
Grandpa and music went hand in hand

Get together's on Saturday night
A little moonshine to start out right
Dancin' a jig under stars so bright
Dancin' and playin' until mornins' light

My grandpa was a playin' man
He played harmonica in his four piece band
I was was without a doubt his number one fan
Grandpa and music went hand in hand

Singin' songs of long ago
Happy voices singin' way down low
Grandpa puttin' on quite a show
Where he learned those songs I don't know

My grandpa was a playin' man
His guitar makin' magic in that four piece band
I was without a doubt his number one fan
Grandpa and music went hand in hand

Fiddles screamin' out loud and clear
Folks would gather round from far and near
Everybody grinnin' from ear to ear
Those memories to me are oh so dear

My grandpa was a playin ' man!

©Donna Jones


Details | Quatrain |

Tides of June Memories


The tides of June carry me over yesterday's sparkling waters to the distant shores preserved in my mind. Playful summer memories are just a light twinkling in my eye, pressed into worn photo albums, I find. Hotter days conjure thoughts of friends, no school to muddy the rippling lake and hours of summer fun. 'Last one in 's a rotten ..., splashing 'round, we kept cool, cannonballs and belly flops, a relief from the ruthless sun. An old boat dock became our fort, buckets of tadpoles were our mascots. Our neighborhood breathed new life and laughter... bikes flung upon the grass, lake waters beckoned of adventure 'til the ice cream man's music brought sweet dreams to chase after. Michael Jackson, The GoGos and Duran Duran played the soundtrack for our restless days. From our fort, the radio blared across the yard. Warm breezes held music and secrets of boy versus girl attacks. And though we often complained, the boys were never barred. Many years ago, summer time brought treasured carefree days of hide and seek, dodge ball, board games and cold lemonade. Slip and slides, cool lake swims and running through sprinkler sprays, all happy memories of our never ending June days on parade. By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders for Memories of June Contest (Joann Grisetti)


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