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Best Quatorzain Poems

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Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

Dark Grace


The asphalt of the ghost, deserted town is old and split,
my thoughts it claims upon the edges of sky's foreign moons,
I saw redemptive souls emerging from the depths of wit,
designs that winters form with interlaced on walls, festoons.

The Mistral blows (my soul), new paths defines and ridges crowns,
inside the dreams embeds the windy drawls and teenage years,
my mind foresees, its state to evolute and be renown,
while my December eyes become, reflectors of cold's tears.

Along those roads, deserted towns become a threaded toy,
of Mistral calls, a song abandoned in a bard's old tale,
unerringly be whistled by the ghosts and gusts' decoy.
alike the blowing winds (my soul), stand tall, in their assail.

She drifts in Mists! A cotton fog and mystery's versed text,
upon a sculptured bark, her promised vision I inhale,
Was I so handsome in her eyes, dimension thus convex,
a splashing wave upon her wharf and she, the night's dark veil?

I saw her form surpassing voices' amplitude and fast
on skyward billows of adjoining rains thenceforth to glide,
was pre-designed and coarse the destiny her beauty passed,
in emptiness wind-gates that led to naught, in fog to hide.

Befallen Angels then transformed time's masquerade to wings,
I saw my soul to stare at the buffoon's dark colored face
Inside the winds, a marionette he was without the strings,
- oh, her aphotic eyes that stared in me, and her dark grace!

© G.V. 10-02-2013 All rights reserved
(Iambic Heptameter - Quatorzain)

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

Temujin

Temujin

The purple Royal banners wave above his armor's steel;
the chieftain carries his Mongolian, relentless wit,
young Genghis Khan, the Temujin, applies his sovereign zeal,
to merge the lands beneath his will, the warlords to befit.

Consorted by young Börte of the Onggirat kin tribe,
the martial Temujin receives high honors by the clans;
a skillful warrior invades the lands while his young bride,
awaits; for no one else predestined is to be her man.

The chieftain slaughters hence his passage through the western soils
invincible his tactics are, and triumphs ascertain,
advance his rule, expand his territorial rights and spoils,
while Börte, granting loyalty, in virtue she ordains.

How valued is the flight of eagles that conduct above,
depict trajectories, and soar to vanish where the Gods
embrace the sadness of unanswered prayers and bridal love,
the Royal maid in loneliness, defends against all odds?

So priceless have become their plumes upon the Mongol plains,
where the persistent Northern steppe cold winds enfold the ghosts
and Princess Börte counts her solitude, stands tall and reigns,
believing that her Temujin bestows his kind riposte!

" Support him Goddess of the moon when grooming Charon thuds
and sends the clanging of the steel, commanding thus, the souls,
to travel the descending route of coursing loveless blood,
and through the gusting of the winds, transports their saddened calls. "

© 01-20-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Quatorzain, Epic, Romantic)
G.V.

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

A DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH

A DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH The silky pearly-white soft skin, beneath her comb's dark beams and her intriguing olive eyes' attentive, thoughtful gaze, behind the night's befalling veil, with elegance supreme, like mystic crypts enchant the men and cause infernal blaze. Involuntarily transmits her messages across a forest nymph expands her spell beneath the moonlight's phase, beguiles the thoughts; romantic dream her cherry lips of gloss the nightly creatures stuns and laws of reason disobeys. Untamed, a diamond in the rough, the nymph in darkness shines without a partner to escort her dance beneath the sky, denies to coexist with men, proposals she declines, and so belongs to breezy streams, that lift her image high. © Olive Eloisa Guillermo, 08-20-2014, All Rights Reserved (Quatorzain or Iambic heptameter

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

A song of songs

on the verge of love,
mutual discovery unveiled
in their secret world;
lips to lips ,sealed,
hearts in passion pound
ardour's whispers sound;
need unchains desire,
pleasure's fever fans a fire,
each flame thrusting higher;
in duet's crescendo choir
realisation exceeds hope,
promise, with trust elope;

enchantment metamorphose
as love,sublime,grows 

Note:
a quatorzain is a stanza or poem of fourteen lines

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

A Requiem verse

nothing moves,
silence!
echos of voices,past
awake!
faces appear,then
depart!
a tear trickles,
slowly!
the music plays,
faintly!
emotion erupts,
again!

regret whispers,
in pain!

Note:
a quatorzain is a stanza or poem of fourteen lines

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

LOVE AND THE PRUDENT MIND

LOVE AND THE PRUDENT MIND

How can passion nab a prudent mind
Heartless and unrelenting sorrow
Passion which
Haunts across seas 
Crazes uncharted through widow making mountains

Shadows its prey
day by day from scent of soap to toothpaste caps
Sleepless nights in strangers beds—The vows once took cannot be shed

How can love annex a prudent mind
     Diligently plodding through piles of work 
Jump between the lines and ink
like a rapist scare
to catch the victim unaware

Heartless and relentless sorrow
Years refine the passion fire
      Body aches for vanished scorching touches
Heartless and relentless sorrow
Like a bird she fled the skies
But longs in secret for the midnight flight return

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

Origional quote

Life in the fast lane ends up with you being the lead car,
in a slow moving funeral procession. 
J. K. Chenevert 1995

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

Nostalgia-Song of the Expatriate

(I'm 
an 
Indian 
lassie, 
was 
born 
in 
West 
Africa, 
(Nigeria), 
Grew 
up 
in 
South 
Africa 
(Swaziland) 
and 
currently 
live 
in 
East 
Africa. 
(Tanzania). 
So 
I 
live 
in 
Daresalam, 
near 
the 
Indian 
Ocean.


I 
might 
be 
like 
any 
other 
expatriate, 
desirous 
of 
their 
homeland
Upon 
my 
country's 
soil 
fervently 
wishing 
to 
stand.
I 
can't 
help 
feeling 
profusely 
foreigner
in 
this 
highly 
foreign 
land
I'd 
give 
anything 
to 
go 
back, 
say 
even 
be 
a 
mariner
for 
there's 
an 
ocean 
to 
cross 
before 
familiar 
sand.

An 
ocean 
with 
dear 
motherland's 
name
greets 
me 
all 
the 
way 
here 
with 
tantalizing 
lure
Tiring 
me 
of 
nostalgia's 
seemingly 
endless 
game
reminding 
the 
distance 
between 
the 
shores 
is 
galore!

Everything 
here 
seems 
just 
too 
alien 
and 
foreign
The 
air 
seems 
foreign 
punctuated 
by 
exotic 
birds
In 
this 
land 
I 
still 
feel 
as 
if 
lost 
in 
some 
warren
and 
the 
foreign 
language 
- 
I'm 
at 
a 
loss 
for 
words!

I 
feel 
estranged 
and 
disoriented, 
struck 
with 
nostalgia
though 
I 
might 
not 
be 
such 
a 
patriot 
any 
more
The 
awaited 
journey 
to 
India 
from 
Tanzania
to 
reach 
familiar 
ground 
of 
lakhs 
and 
crore.

Ah, 
the 
welcoming 
scenes 
of 
my 
homeland
always 
so 
enticing 
and 
inviting
It 
might 
seem 
surprising 
that 
for 
me 
she's 
a 
dreamland
but 
a 
desire 
to 
go 
back, 
since 
ages 
I've 
been 
fighting.

I'm 
home-
sick, 
waiting 
so 
long 
to 
be 
back 
home
There's 
no 
place 
like 
home-
sweet-
home
Here 
I 
feel 
I've 
lost 
my 
tracks
Like 
a 
homeless 
wanderer 
do 
I 
roam.

As 
here 
I 
feel 
no 
less 
like 
a 
Gulliver 
on 
his 
travels
yet 
to 
rehabilitate 
from 
homesickness 
might 
take 
a 
lifetime
For now, I can merely 
sing of motherland's 
marvels
and wait soberly for fate 
and destiny's chime.

But an underlying truth 
here: I feel alienated 
everywhere
as if I hailed from No-
man's-land
They think I neither 
blend with the Indian 
nor 
the african
but hope they respect 
my very individual brand.

Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

Contemplation

Today is a contemplative day.
Not a day of joy but of thought.
A wrestling of sorts within.
I hope to find some clarity.

What lies have I told to myself?
What have I chosen to believe?
Can there be escape from myself?
I hope that the answer is yes.

So I sit thinking of my days
Into which cup I'm pouring life
Is there time to hold something back
Or have the sands blown away

All the answers I thought I knew
Now they seem like a cosmic joke
Still there's a difference I can make
All I need is courage to change
 


Details | Quatorzain Poem | |

THE WRONG PERCEPTION

Sex is not love as assumed...
so what's it's purpose?
To multiply?

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