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Best Quatrain Poems

Below are the all-time best Quatrain poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Quatrain poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Quatrain Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Quatrain poems are below this new poems list.

How Many Poets: by Keeble, Rick
Zeus' Show: by Keeble, Rick
REMEMBERING 3 by Enriquez, Leon
little white shoes by Norwood, Grant
ROCK by tran, hien
My Greatest Fear by Bradfield, Larry
Okay, Just Drop One In by Haight, Sandra
Stink by Bradfield, Larry
The Trump by McLeod, Trevor
OK, Just Drop One In by Bradfield, Larry

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The Best Quatrain Poems

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How Poetry Began

That thing that we call poetry - when asked where it began, I’d say it started beautifully before the dawn of man! It glistened on the oceans before man came to be. It blossomed on the grassy cliffs that met the first great sea. It glittered in the moon and stars and beamed on earth below in meadows where bright flowers danced and on the pristine snow. It sparkled on the lakes and streams, and when man came along, he took sweet words that flowed to him and turned them into song. This was how it always was before we knew of time. The poet who begot us all made it to be sublime. Poetry has now evolved, and as with many things, there are many kinds. . . but I still like it when it sings! This was first posted 9/13/2014: For Shadow Hamilton's the Poems that are soup favourites Poetry Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

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Unspoken Words

I often scribble in the sand 
The words I find so hard to say
And hope the wind will come along 
And blow them all your way.


---------------------------------------
Contest: Simply Beautiful
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Placing: 2nd   (April 2015)

Contest: Five Lines or Less
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Placing: 2nd   (April  2014)



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

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Love Beyond the Pale

You lay upon the warm wet earth
now ripped from limb to limb.
Your present shape denies the girth
of your form in its prime.

A life cut short and denied its worth
about you ivy climbs,
my love for you evokes the hearth
a bonfire which knows no end time.

Now fallen, slain, cast for rebirth,
the core of you sublime,
an earthly stump, at forest skirt
reminds me of grand times.

Soon, I too will go beyond the earth
recalling passion's prime,
through the veil of life unearthed
my heart returned to thine.


*ballad


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

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Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.






November 25th, 2013




Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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Yellow Shoes in the Darkness

Walking through the land of shadows 
wearing my yellow shoes
With each and every step
I created color and hues

The shadows started retreating
As color permeated the ground
Out of the shadowy darkness
I heard a horrible sound

"You do not belong here
I command you to go away
You are in the land of darkness
You must listen to what I say"

I kept on moving forward
Not sure what I would see
Where was the voice coming from
I looked behind a tree

Light and color expanded
Traveling up straight to the skies
The entity that so scared me
Was right before my eyes

As my shoes banished the darkness
The entity was reduced to tears
Without the aid of shadows
He couldn't tap into my fears

I then reached down to touch him
I told him that he was safe
He looked up with confusion
As I gazed upon his face

"Are you here to destroy me?
Have you come to take me away?
There is a purpose for shadows
They create hope for brighter days."

I heard what he was saying
The shadows have their reason
In order for spring to come
We need a darker season

So I removed my yellow shoes
Watched as the shadows returned
It was time for me to go home
With this strange lesson I had learned










Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

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As the Sun Rises

From out of the smoke we will rise
The weight of these chains we will break
From his face we will rip the deceitful guise
The spirit of our brothers and sisters we will wake

My blood flows free yet I do not weaken
My feet clothed in blisters yet I feel no pain
For my children’s lives I will not bargain
Though my anger burns my calm will remain

From beneath his foot our people we will remove
The hate he has implanted we will unbind with fire
The lies he  feeds  the blind  we will disprove
We will watch him drown in desperation’s mire

With only a stance we will shake every plain
With only a look we shine with the force of the sun
My feet clothed in blisters yet I feel no pain
My blood flowing free yet I will not weaken
 

~FJ Thomas
….we are not of only one race in this family



Copyright © FJ Thomas | Year Posted 2015

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It Matters Not

It hovers here, a moon opaque, obscuring mountain trails I take. No other living things appear. A moon opaque. . . It hovers here. I follow on along a ledge; below a swirling river’s edge. In front of me, the canyon’s yawn. Along a ledge, I follow on. I see no hue when fog congeals. Oh, doom of one who no more feels! The moon has fled, as so have you. When fog congeals, I see no hue. Now all is dim; it matters not. My dear one’s heart I have not got. No use in living without him. It matters not. Now all is dim. At peace I’ll be if I should fall to murky water from this wall. Oh, yawning canyon, swallow me. If I should fall, at peace I’ll be. An invented poem 'for the Gothic or Romantic (old/new) Contest of Giorgio Veneto and now for the contest of Skat's The Day My Lover Left


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Eternal Life And The Total Self

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Eternal Life And The Total Self


Life is but a fleeing whisper
     echoing through time,
never dying, always being
     magnificent and sublime.

The body's a receptacle,
     a superficial shell,
but in it dwells the gift of soul;
     eternity knows it well.

The soul contains the truths of life,
     to all that's ever been;
to all things now, and yet to come,
     but guards them deep within.

The mind has hidden doors to soul;
     we long to find the key...
unleash the vision waiting there
     that lives eternally.

And so mind seeks to open wide,
     grasp firm the light of soul.
and at that moment when it does,
     we know we will be whole.

So when we penetrate the shield
     that stands between these two,
we will perceive with inner sight
     our soul, complete and new.

If in this life, we cannot grasp
     this bond of soul and mind,
we'll be reborn to live again
     till total self we find.

We've been before, so many times;
     we've known many a past.
We'll be again, an echo in time...
     till mind and soul are fast.

And when that final day does come,
     at last to lift our soul,
for Him to gather in His arms...
      a perfect self, now whole.


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: Soul Consciousness
Sponsor: Catie Lindsay
Judged: 06/29/2016

Theme:  After death, will you have to enter again in another Earth life, and Why?

Although not my religious belief, there are some religions, like Hinduism, that believe in reincarnation which refines the soul by it living many lifetimes, and after it is perfected, goes back to God.  My poem is based on that belief.  So many people, including myself, have inner feelings or momentary flashbacks like they have lived before in another life...so who knows... 


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

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Cup of Empty

She pours him a cup of empty
From a teapot of childhood dreams
He loves the sound of her giggles
Her's is the light of a thousand moonbeams

Moonbeams and butterflies, petals from roses
Counting out loud, crossing fingers and toeses
Unicorns and Teddy all enjoying a sip
Cups full of empty never spill and can't drip

He lifts a cup of empty
and gives his baby a  wink
"Mmmm, dear darling, this is so delicious,
its the very best I've ever had to drink"

In the evening, he turns to his bottle
With his friends, he goes to the bar
She faithfully waits, for him for hours
Thinking "Dear daddy I wonder where you are?"

Moonbeams and butterflies, petals from roses
Counting out loud, crossing fingers and toeses
Unicorns and Teddy all enjoying a sip
Cups full of empty never spill and can't drip

She sets their table and faithfully waits,
hoping that daddy, will be coming home soon
But her tired eyes, give way to sleepy
as her Teddy watches under the moon

He comes home way after midnight
Sees his angel asleep on the floor
Smiles and sips a sip of empty
and thinks "I shouldn't drink anymore"

Years have a way of taking
She doesn't wait for daddy at home
She's found a new kind of pleasure
Her hunger grew from being alone

She fills her veins with her empty
Dreams dreams she can't explain
Trades her body and those giggles
In hopes of escaping her pain

Moonbeams and butterflies, petals from roses
Counting out loud crossing fingers and toeses
Unicorns and Teddy all enjoying a sip
Cups full of empty never spill and can't drip

Daddy sat home and he waited
His baby girl she never came home
He still drowns himself in his bottle
But now he drinks all alone

Her teacup sits on the counter
Emptied of her childhood dreams
He misses the sound of her giggles
and the light of a thousand moon beams

He lifts the cup full of empty
To his lips and takes another drink
Empties out the rest of the bottle
As his pain is poured down the sink

Moonbeams and butterflies, petals and roses
Counting out loud crossing fingers and toeses
Unicorns and Teddy all enjoying a sip
Cups full of empty never spill and can't drip

He traded what was real for his empty
As she relinquished her childhood dreams
Now his baby girl has flown to heaven
On the light of a thousand moon beams

He wishes he could be with his baby
Lift her cup and give her a wink
Say "Mmmm this is so delicious,
it's the best I've ever had to drink!


I realize the verse is not a quatrain however the majority of the poem is written in the requested form. This is a piece that is quite meaningful to me.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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Kiss the Rain

I'm leaving now, but here is a reminder
'Twill bring to you the days we walked through rain
So when you wish to feel my hand in yours
Or stroke your dripping hair-- Then kiss the rain

Though leaving now, I wish I could be with you
So when you feel o'erwhelmed with grief or pain
And long for my caress upon your face,
The rain will touch instead-- So kiss the rain

Whenever you have tho'ts of this sad parting
And salty tears your lovely cheeks do stain
To feel the tears for you I'll surely have
Do this, and I will too-- Go kiss the rain

Whenever you are longing for my presence
And times that we went strolling down the lane
I'll whisper soft endearments on the breeze
So heed the sighing wind-- And kiss the rain

If ever you should pine to hear me speaking
The thunder might burst forth with glorious main*
While drops that fall are sure to be my tears,
To feel them wet your skin-- Just kiss the rain



* Power or Force


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

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We Push The Pen

We push the pen to make you feel
the gentle tapping of the falling rain,
the stinging burn of the summer sun
the heavy heart of despair and pain.

We push the pen to make you see
the vibrant orange of a monarch wing,
the secretive soul hidden in our eyes,
the golden sunrise in early morning.

We push the pen to make you taste
the sweetness of love's first kiss,
the bitterness of heartbreaking defeat
the richness of pure chocolate bliss.

We push the pen to make you hear
the clear waters babbling in the brook,
the forgotten laughter of our inner child
the cracking spine of a brand new book.

We push the pen to make you savor
the pungent petals of the red rose,
the crisp aroma of a tart green apple
the autumn air that excites the nose.

We each push the pen in different ways
with our own tone of voice and mystique,
an art form that no other can duplicate,
no right or wrong, just wonderfully unique.





Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

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Windowpanes

An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

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Fallen Star

I tracked along a silver trail
carved out from Earthly dust
by rays persistent in the dark 
and midnight wanderlust.

It led me to a bubbling fount
of sulfurous mud and tar; 
whereupon I chanced a glimpse
and found a fallen star. 

An ancient from celestial realms
ensnared terrestrially
dimly glowing in the murk
I heard it sing to me:

Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.

You roam upon this infant orb, 
you draw from it thy life, 
but I sense greed and evil scorn
and no land void of strife.

I beg you tell me how it came
that creatures such as thee
have found such hatred in thy souls
to punish endlessly. 

It’s not so bad, I said out loud
we know of love as well…
as to the fate of mother Earth
I simply can’t foretell.

The ground beneath my weary feet
gave way to empty space
then all around me in the void
I saw the human race.

Starving children, ill and gaunt
were kicked by wing-tipped shoes.
Females ranging every clime
in silence nursed abuse.

In darkness men were plotting war
in light their banners raised
it mattered not which way I looked
some evil met my gaze.  

Make it stop, I beg you please!
Why poison thou my mind?
What can I do to stop all this,
is no good left to find?

Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.

You roam upon this infant orb, 
you draw from it thy life, 
and though you’re one of many men
love in thy chest is rife.

You must return to whence you came
you must confer abroad
the goodness that within thee burns
seek first to serve the flawed.

Think on the vast expanse of space
so empty, dark and cold…
and how despite the hopeless cause
star-light you still behold.

So too might thou, if you’ll but try
endure this awful plight
for in the vast expanse of hate
love is thy shining light. 

07/16/15










Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

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Beauty Inside

Your beauty deep inside
Behind those bedroom eyes
Most men will fail to find
With you only as a prize

I can see it clear as day
Shining from your soul
Hiding from the prey
It truly makes you whole

So wipe away your tears
Set your beauty free
Leave behind your fears
Come walk away with me




Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2014

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Slave

Like a herd of cattle, placed on a ship.
Upon my back, I felt their whip!
Ripping into my flesh, excruciating pain.
Forced across the big water on a trip.

Living in darkness with little to eat.
The feel of chains around my feet.
Amidst tortured cries, the ship did shake.
Waves pounded the hull with relentless beat.

Only once a day, would we see the sky.
Huge sails, caused the ship to fly.
Further and further away from my home.
Feeling confused not understanding why!

A white devil, steered the wooden ship.
All his mates evil with scabbed putrid lips.
Yet we, depended on them for our lives.
Without them, into the ocean we'd slip.

The journey long, felt like an eternity!
I longed to be anywhere but on the sea.
My mind occupied with thoughts of my home.
yet, I could not escape this horrible enemy!

Sick and dying were forced to walk the plank.
Then into the cold water they quickly sank.
The sailors laughed, as the last man was tossed!
Their spirits boistered with the rum they drank.

Many days later we finally made land.
A place of stone and wood, I could see no sand.
Crack of the whip, we rose to our feet.
"Off of my ship!"was the devil's final command!


For Verlena's "Writing in a black Perspective" Contest



Story continued for my own pleasure, not part of the entry.

Slave Part Two

Brought in chains, to a raised wooden stage.
Bids tallied carefully, sales written on a page.
That was when I witnessed, a most perfect girl.
Bought by a fat man, she was placed in a cage!

I was up next, I stood still as he bid on me.
"One dollar, gimme two, two dollars, sold for three!"
Then I was taken and locked up in the cage with her.
Together we both dreamt, of one day being free.

Brought to the plantation, in late September.
I worked in cotton fields, until November.
Then I would be purposed, to cutting fire wood.
For cold and snow came, by early December.

In the evening, we were left to be with our kind.
While in the big house, our master dined.
Later at dusk, my angel girl would come.
Her beauty so amazing, she made me blind!

The taste of her body, my rememberance of home.
We gave each other pleasure, when we were alone.
Even though the master, wanted her for only him.
I felt like a free man, when I would hear her moan!

Her pregnant, I wondered if the child was mine?
If I was the father, I would be bound in twine.
Still inside I prayed, that the child belonged to me.
In the end, that would be certainly be fine.

Nine months later, almost to the day.
The love of my life was taken away.
In death our child born, middle of September.
The master's anger, I could not sway.

I was awoken, ripped out of my bed!
He took out a musket loaded with lead.
Finally free, in spirit we both travel.
There are certainly worse things, than being dead!













Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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This Poem Is How I Feel

Sometimes on the road of life
	Change becomes the norm
		When you think, “The sky is true”
			The horizon brews a storm
Some storms last but a minute
	Like a ship they sail right by
		Other storms seem to be
			As endless as the sky
Some storms come with a flood
	As life gets washed away
		Other storms shake the ground
			As mountains crumble into clay
Storms come in many sizes
	They come in many shapes
		Storms come in many forms
			Some bless while others rape
As we face the storms of life
	They change who we are
		Sometimes, we’re the clouds
			Other times we’re the stars
Storms have one thing in common
	One day they too shall pass
		 As a car rolls to a stop
			Storms run out of gas
After the storm has passed us by
	A seed sprouts to a flower
		Each petal seems to be
			Exuding strength and power
I have weathered many storms
	Their lines map my face
		In their wake I have found
			Love is my saving grace
I don’t know what this poem means
	I don’t know if I ever will
		All I know is that right now
			This poem is how I feel


Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2011

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First Love

Returning home again after many years away
I find our secret path along the Fundy Bay
That happy place where long ago we played
Where all our dreams and promises were made

Once again I lie down where daises grow
In fields above the banks where salt winds blow
Golden memories rush through my hungry soul
Returning pieces of my heart lost long ago

I close my eyes recalling all the things we did
Just the way they were when we were kids
And I know without a doubt that you are here
As your love for me falls from my eyes in tears

We lie like angels looking up at clouds of cream
As we watch them take the shape of all our dreams
We laugh so hard at all the things we do and say
To us life is just a stage a place to laugh and play

We find the trail that takes us down to meet the ocean
Where we swim in waves of jubilant emotions
Then we walk along the shore together hand-in-hand
And we write our love forever in the sand


                                 ~~~

Author:  Elaine George
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Post Comments


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2010

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Heritage

The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.

Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.

This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.

The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.

A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.

Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.

The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.

At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.

I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.

The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

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Can You Spare A Teardrop

I cried for so long, so many nights,
and now no more tears can drop,
I'm all out, do you have some to spare,
cause you know once I start, I can't stop.

I go on for days with a heavy heart,
no tears fall, though inside I'm crying,
I feel empty, hollow, dark inside,
a soul dead, and still is dying.

Can I fill a bucket from your well,
the sun came out, dried up my rain,
I'll take them carefully, try not to spill,
cause I've got a need to ease the pain.

That feeling of washing away the sorrow,
with trickling tear-water, clear and cool,
soothes the soul, relaxes the ache,
can I dive right into your swimming pool?

I need to pour out your flowing brook,
to keep me crying a river for today,
I want to hold despair in my hands,
please let this melancholy feeling stay.





Out of Water contest
placed 14th





Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

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Where the Wind Blows

I followed one day a spring breeze at play. It seemed not to know where to go. And aimlessly, I - like a butterfly - meandered with it to and fro. Among bright blue bells, it tired a spell. Recovering, it picked up speed. Alongside a rill, I ran with a thrill just to know where the breeze might lead. My heart filled with song as I danced along, careening through meadows of green. And then the breeze dove into a large grove, the loveliest I’d ever seen. No longer a breeze, it whipped around trees. It whistled while beckoning me, and as it passed through where tall redwoods grew, I was following, wild and free. In that beautiful place, it changed its pace and got stronger, for the breeze goes where sturdy trees thrive. I felt so alive! I have been to where the wind blows.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Creeping Roses

Tender tendrils climb the wall
Up towards the sky
Past the latticed windows tall
Clinging on from high.

Then in springtime buds in red
Pout with lips apart
Inhibitions they all shed
And seduce my heart.


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Contest: A 7/5 Trochee
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placed: 1st


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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Newborn Flowers

A broken heart 
who humbly cries 
As the flames began melting 
tears hidden under the seabed

Sizzling hot a trail 
sparkles into the night sky
love comes in colors 
that kisses burn passion

Following your starlight flooding
memories are forever made pure
Even if you are not here
I can feel your warm breath 

Winking to the soul dream of dreams 
Together we can build a future palace
one without fear and pain
Destiny will be eternities shooting arrow 
 
Catching many rainbow on our roads path
Cupid strikes flying saucers land in your space 
wondering if things will ever be the same again
Captivating an angel strums tugging heartstrings 

Do you hear still the melody 
to the most beautiful song playing
Warmly exploring deeply touching tunes 
Covering the bed with rose petals 

Music plays a heartfelt chant sighs 
I miss you dearest flower forever more 
just like the desert misses rain
Whispers held on a cloud of breath beautiful 


A Collaborated Poem 
Anne-Lise Andresen and Liam Mc Daid 
(unrhymed quatrain)


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016

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Filling up on empty

Some things that look fulfilling
Can cast a woeful spell
Glittery that looks like heaven,
can often turn out to be hell.

All the wanting leads to weeping,
He can't fill that empty space.
There are those hidden bits of lonely,
in the mirror etched upon his face.

He exchanges real for imagined,
relation-ships they sail away.
Nights are now spent with strangers,
He is the game they like to play.

Trappings of success are empty,
he pretends he's not alone.
The heart in his chest is heavy,
What was soft has turned into stone.

It can be the curse of the rich man,
to grab onto things that don't last.
Riches that vanish in an instant,
Replaced with regrets from the past.






Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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LOSING HER GLOW



Arid wind roughens skin of day 
breathing in the ash of Fall sky,
his  blurred  eyes fold to drop away
on piercing whiffs that slowly die;
like mirrors crashed unto the air
a splendor gliding down below,
where rainclouds grip…into nowhere
biting the night with sharpened jaw.
 
Drained fingers jot sweet memory
calling Pam’s name in every bloom,
as laced nights recall the glory
of fondness born from love’s heirloom...
Time pauses… her Glow swirls on trees
where romps christen fire tasting life..
And though wonder darts to appease
pale the ticks, yearning for dear wife.


Lost Contest 
Sponsored by Broken Wings
2/5/2016


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

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My Poetic Angel

(\ /) ( \__ / ) ( \()/ ) ( / \ ) ( / \/ \ ) / \ (__|__) You’re my poetic angel, Watching me as I write. Sent by God to guard me, Through the day and night. You give me inspiration, Through your celestial glow. And you jump start my mind, From where my poems flow. Everyday you guide me, Not letting bad turn to worse. And push the pen I hold, As I write each lovely verse. You’re my poetic angel, I’m glad you are my friend. We’ll always be together, Until my body’s end.


Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009