Best Quatern Poems
Waterfall wishes on stars with no swings
I’m sending to you on butterfly wings.
Pennies are wasted on a wishing well.
Pennies instead for sweet thoughts that you tell.
Oh, pennies from heaven as your heart sings
waterfall wishes on stars with no swings
and dandelion dreams you hope will come true.
I’ll click my red heels to bring them to you!
Over my rainbow, love can stay blind.
Better than Leprechaun’s gold, you will find
waterfall wishes on stars with no swings
and all of my love attached with no strings.
Close your eyes; take my hand; let yourself feel.
I’ll be your Wendy if you’ll make it real!
Fly me away to a dreamland that brings
waterfall wishes on stars with no swings.
Written Dec. 17, 2016
For Julie Leigh Rodeheaver "Whisper Sweet Nothings" Poetry Contest
A citrine leaf in lingered lilt
did savor breeze of sapphire whisk
as Autumn’s honey-secrets spilt.
A hopscotch star.. an ember brisk,
she sighed and fell— then took her chance!
a citrine leaf in lingered lilt
with wind-a-whirl in saffron dance
below the western cirrus gilt.
Before the winds began to wilt
and aspen whispers rose a wail,
a citrine leaf in lingered lilt
did fly where camp-fire-clouds grew pale—
where songs are spun from angel dreams,
their rapture wrapped her like a quilt,
no longer needing rhinestone streams,
a citrine leaf in lingered lilt.
Each little drop of rain I see
goes plink plink plink into the pond,
then disappears so easily
as if I’d waved a magic wand!
Inside the pond’s refreshment goes
each little drop of rain I see.
How calm this scene, for no wind blows;
all thoughts mundane from my mind flee.
A fragrance wafts enchantingly
to greet my nose with scent of pink!
Each little drop of rain I see
keeps falling falling plink plink plink.
Reflected on the water’s skin,
pink blossoms ripple joy to me
while in this moment I take in
each little drop of rain I see.
Written Aug. 12, 2016
When leaves in whispers say goodbye
With a hint of autumn’s sun rise
Once of vibrant life to mutate
In combat with the chilling eve.
Soon to waltz within heartless breath
When leaves in whispers say goodbye
From mighty mother trees shaking
In fall’s perpetual cycle.
No more gathering of morns dew
Within the mist that spoils the view
When leaves in whispers say goodbye
Dressed in colours of red and gold.
Another seasonal imprint
Scurrying along woodland’s chase
Driven by swirling artful winds
When leaves in whispers say goodbye.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Yesterday’s joys are more than a few.
In my mind they reside endlessly
like bright recollections rosy in hue
or the notes of a sweet melody.
Sorrow and pain won’t burden me, for
yesterday’s joys are more than a few.
Rich in blessings, I’ll never be poor.
Happy memories carry me through.
“Good old days” end; along comes the new,
and so much of it also is sweet!
Yesterday’s joys are more than a few.
With the new ones, my soul is replete!
Sweet recollections never will cease,
for no matter what strife may ensue,
I know in the end, I will find peace.
Yesterday’s joys are more than a few!
For the Bring Me to Life Poetry Contest of Aiyah de Torres
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A thing of beauty on her wrist
was confiscated by a nurse
who looked for items soldiers missed
in places (and by means) much worse.
They branded her inside the camp,
a thing of beauty on her wrist
replaced by Hitler's horrid stamp,
a stinging band below her fist.
With teeming glee, Frau nurse had hissed,
"Thank me that you won't see the baths"
A thing of beauty on HER wrist
the gleaming fee of psychopaths
Now, she who bears the mark of war
lives free and wears her scar not with
remorse. It's more, at eighty-four,
a thing of beauty on her wrist...
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Fall Tiptoed In
Softly, last night it tiptoed in--
that wisp of crispness in the air!
I grab a quilt made way back when
and watch the sunrise from my chair.
The cinnamon breeze monarchs ride—
softly, last night it tiptoed in
and brought me thoughts of days gone by,
of marshmallows and campfire friends.
Can it be, summer’s at an end,
and fall has quietly begun?
Softly, last night it tiptoed in,
to avoid notice of the sun.
Just yesterday the summer heat
made me wistful for fall, and then,
while I’m in bed and fast asleep,
softly, last night it tiptoed in!
8/26/2022
Hint of Autumn
Regina McIntosh, sponsor
The days, they come; the days, they go.
Like rivers on and on they flow,
not always smoothly. Some will be
quite turbulent, some trouble free.
Like clouds and sunshine, rain and snow,
the days, they come; the days, they go.
While some are pleasant, others glum,
they're life--no matter how they come.
Our minds, through time, serve as the seat
of memories--some tart, some sweet.
The days, they come; the days, they go.
Hard times and blessings they bestow.
The strong and wise will realize
the sun that sets will also rise.
Soft breezes drift and rough winds blow.
The days, they come; the days, they go.
November 6, 2021
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance Placed 2nd
POTD November 7, 2021
January 4, 2022
entered in Brian Strand's Contest 1046 placed 1st
July 21, 2022
entered in the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
How sad when things are too far gone -
when pleasures once you knew
are things no more to smile upon.
This plight for some is all too true.
Some souls are captive to their vice.
How sad when things are too far gone
and simple comforts don’t suffice.
To evil some become a pawn!
Some bearing pain become withdrawn:
for pain of body or the soul.
How sad when things are too far gone,
and nothing fills the gaping hole.
Some lose their home or livelihood.
Some live enslaved. There is no dawn
that shines for them with brotherhood.
How sad when things are too far gone.
July 18, 2022
for Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Poetry Contest
Title #1: Too Far Gone
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Oh, the forest whispers to me,
as stained leaves on the ground crinkle;
and birds chirp and trill in a tree,
but too soon those leaves will wrinkle.
As I walk the wind groans and moans,
oh, the forest whispers to me;
soon the branches will be bare bones,
the crows cawing is like a plea.
Squirrels chirrup running with glee,
through the leaves that swirl, twirl and dance;
oh, the forest whispers to me,
the beauty puts me in a trance.
A stream that gurgles and thunders,
and ducks still quack and float carefree;
so many sweet scenes and wonders,
oh, the forest whispers to me.
_______________________
October 16, 2021
Poetry/Quatern/ The Stained Glass Forest
Copyright Protected, ID-10-1397-695-16
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Onomatopoeia
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 11/13/2021
Fourth Place
Poem of the Day October 18, 2021
Golden leaves of autumn delight
Where season flaunts hints of romance
Blazing passions of smitten sight
As themes chromatic swirl and dance.
Charming dreams of romantic eyes
Golden leaves of autumn delight
As twilight blushes on mauve skies
Lauding missives of zealous night.
While amber notions waltz in flight
Spurring thrill of flaxen meadows,
Golden leaves of autumn delight
As tunes of love heartbeats compose.
Crimson motifs gelid winds blow
Twirling, whirling, as they alight,
Where gilded canvas glints on snow
Golden leaves of autumn delight.
There is the calm before the rain
It’s almost silent all around
The clouds expectant in the sky
Foreboding birds are homeward bound.
The soldiers stare at looming clouds
There is the calm before the rain
And yet there’s tension in the air
Will all this waiting be in vain?
They know the feeling well enough
The sun gets left out in the cold
There is the calm before the rain
They have to be prepared and bold.
The sound of planes will soon be heard
Torrential bombs will fall again
But ‘til the heavens burst in floods
There is the calm before the rain.
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Inspired by the song “Have you ever seen the rain?”
Sung by Credence Clearwater Revival.
With underlying reference to the Vietnam War.
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Contest: Screwed (Mar 2015)
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Placed: 7th
Rock N' Roll Contest sponsored by Kelly Deschler. NA
Memories on branches live on and on -
multiplying since the world’s first dawn.
Fresh and beautiful in spring are we -
buds that blossom on our family tree.
We all need a place to build upon.
Memories on branches will still live on
even though - like summer birds - one day
we may leave our nest and fly away.
Busy we may be, but in the fall,
we’ll look back and tenderly recall
memories on branches have still lived on -
bright like leaves that decorate our lawn.
Winter’s snow covers us as we grow frail.
Yet through our posterity, we know well
what we’ve lived through never will be gone.
Memories on branches live on and on.
For the Memories Poetry Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Breathing feather-whispers ever sweetly
upon my neck, oh, how he pleases me!
Irises beneath long lashes gazing
down at me are gold-tinged and amazing.
Near moonlit water, on a beach are we,
breathing feather-whispers ever sweetly.
Our legs are intertwined; my cheek is pressed
against love’s rhythm beating in his chest.
His fingers trace the line along my spine
as stars peek down at us and brightly shine.
Breathing feather-whispers so lusciously,
caress us, Wind, before the night can flee!
Like ocean’s waves that come to kiss the land,
our passion mounts. Unbridled on the sand,
I give myself gladly and completely -
breathing feather-whispers ever sweetly.
Sept. 13, 2016
For Russell Sivey's' Choose A Topic' Contest: Love and Romance
Following footprints in the sand
Across the beach, down to the sea
I picture you, hardy and tanned
Always joyful, always carefree
Your righteous path is hard to trace
Following footprints in the sand
Such soft impressions waves erase
I wish you could lead, take my hand
When you were with me, life seemed grand
I wasted not one bit of time
Following footprints in the sand
For with you, any hill I’d climb
We’ll meet again; I’ll join you soon
Our long-lost friends will be on hand
To launch our cosmic honeymoon
Following footprints in the sand
January 19, 2020