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Warning Signs by Bickerstaffe, Keith
Sea Wolves by Bickerstaffe, Keith
PASSION by Enriquez, Leon
The Reaper's Return by mcdaid, liam
Worth Waiting For by Hiatt, Colan
A Maryland Summer by carmack, rob
BECOMING by Enriquez, Leon
How You Hurt Me by Celeste, Jade
Inverse Rorshach test by DE PAZ, Mario
I Like To Write About God Because by BuhainBaello, Cynthia

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The Best Quatrain Poems

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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! Inspired by the contest of Justin Bordner and some of the beautiful poems I've been seeing in this contest Now for PD's Best Poem of 2014 - Poetry Contest

More great poems below...


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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)


Details | Quatrain Poem | |

Love Beyond the Pale

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

Cut short in life denied your worth
about you ivy climbs,
my love for you evokes the hearth
a fire 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.


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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

Written by: Kelly Deschler


Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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 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 to the skies
The entity that 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 reached down to touch him
I told him 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








More great poems below...


Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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.




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Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!


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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



Details | Quatrain Poem | |

As the Sun Rises

...an oppressor has more than one form


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

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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

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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. 'for the Gothic or Romantic (old/new) Contest of Giorgio Veneto and now for the contest of PD

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Awakening

Today is the first day of a new awakening
I dust myself off and slowly rise out of bed
Stumbling I trip over the bucket of my tears
Hoping sunlight stops the cries in my head 

Feeling alive, no longer will I live in the past
Start a journey, steady a course for happiness
Moving forward towards my hopes and dreams
No longer feeling sad, filling up all my emptiness

Life leads me to the safety and comfort of your arms
My awakening beginning with that first sweet kiss
I can finally be me, all my pain has been set free
Making love and memories, one day we will reminisce

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

Somethree-A-Threesome

It is every boy's fantasy
It is every man's dream
To be with two women
To be double teamed 

I must be real lucky
I've gotten this chance
These two perfect ladies
Are wanting to dance

Winds blew them to me
Bringing happiness to all
Blinded they let me see
I hear the whispers they call

Our tomorrows bring hope
Hugs and kisses aren't enough
They are allowing me to cope
They've made a weak man tough

My two special ladies
Bring smiles to my face
I wish they were closer
So we all could embrace

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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.

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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.


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

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

Rolling Thunder And A Gentle Rain

The gentle music flows
from every drop of rain,
as it just lightly taps
against my window pane.

The wind begins to whistle
it's own melodious song,
while the wind-chimes
dance and play along.

The soothing sounds cast open
the windows and doors.
I close my eyes and breathe.
The energy surrounds me as my spirit soars.

I hold out my hand and feel the raindrops
as if they were at play.
My breath now quickened with emotion.
I taste the rain on my lips as I embrace the glorious day.

The curtains blow inward
the breeze itself is warm,
my mind is so peaceful
in the calm before the storm.

The sky's voice trembles
from above a darkening cloud,
as the rolling thunder
speaks it's thoughts aloud.

The thunder awakens
the flash of light.
The part of nature
that sends some to flight.

I chose to embrace the power of nature
in the earth and sky.
And bask in the wonder
that fills my eyes.

The rain seems to be letting up
as it puddles on the green grass,
and the once powerful winds
are now calming down at last.

The gray clouds are parting
and a bright rainbow forms,
proving that something beautiful
can come from such dangerous storms.

My eyes close and I breathe
in the scent of the cleansing rain.
The brilliant hues of the rainbow
dance in my mind where I feel no pain.

The sun peaks from behind the clouds
just to say hi.
I feel the warmth against my face
as I view the beauty with a sigh.






Written by: Kelly Deschler & Nature Boy


For Jared Pickett's contest - "Collaboration"

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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!












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What I Should Have Said Then

Remember that night, one of so many of course
When the waitress asked if we were on our first date
We’d talked for three hours till our voices were hoarse
The laughter we shared no one could create

It must have been the joy in our hearts she saw
For eighteen years there’d been no one who meant more
Never for a moment did our love withdraw
I joked and said it was the cologne you wore

Impotence had rendered you last in some eyes
But there was no man who made me happier
My affection for you never compromised
Of my self-worth, you were the certifier

The last time I saw your 95-pound frame
As you lay smiling in the hospice bed
My adoration I just could not proclaim
Couldn’t look back, still wanted to look ahead

My head on your hand, tears formed a puddle
So much in my heart, but at a loss for words
I waited for your angel as we cuddled
Finally they arrived, not one, they flew in herds

The spirit of contentment shone o’er your face
I swear to this day I saw your spirit rise
You faced your death with such dignity and grace
I could not bring myself to utter goodbyes

But now as I pray, the words finally come
“God blessed me with a special friend always true
And now as I hear heaven’s harps ever strum
I know there’ll never be another like you”



*For my dear friend Chris who died on Christmas Day 2005
Entry for Gareth's "Last Words to a Loved One" Contest

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The Absentee Student Takes His Test

He’s never heard one lesson of this class,
but has to get a grade in history.
So he’s shown up at last, sure he will pass
the test that prior students say is easy!

He feels no need to read the test’s directions.
It uses letter symbols; he can tell
he only needs to trust his recollections
about the fifty states. He should do well!

He feels assured that Md has to be 
for Maryland, and Missouri is Mo.
It’s very clear Nebraska is Ne.
But why No? Everyone should know that NO means NO!

Ca, Pa, In; a piece of cake!
Then he sees a few that are an utter
puzzlement or just a huge mistake!
Pb, he’s sure, is only peanut butter!

Sg might be Singapore, or else Saigon.
But how are those in U.S. History?
Fr for France? Just what is going on?
The cocky guy is feeling kind of queasy.

At last he thinks to go back to the start
and read the test’s instructions. . . O M G!
The test was on the periodic chart
of elements! Wrong class. It’s Chemistry!!!


*The correct answers of the test were really
Md for Mendelevium, Mo for Molybdenum,
Ne for Neon,  No for Nobelium, Ca for Calcium,
Pa for Protactinium, In for Indium, pb for Lead,
Sg for Seaborgium and Fr for Francium (he was close on that one!)

As for me, I would stay in the history class!!!

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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.

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

Frosted Panes - re-post

                                   
When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea

With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the center of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winter-wonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand

And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each one and still I wanted more

The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green       
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again

You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again 

             ~~~~~


Written:  Jan 15, 2011

Author:  Elaine George
First Place in Brian Strand's contest:  Let's See
4th   Place In - Anything goes contest

In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George'.


Authors Note:
When I was a child of three, I Went to live for a year with my Grandparents in Nova 
Scotia. At that time my Grandfather was a retired Sea Captain of a Three Mast 
Schooner. He had spent most of his life at sea, taking lumber and coal to New 
Brunswick and various ports in the U.S. and in the winter months, would carry on  to 
pick-up and deliver  cargo in the  West Indies. Although my time with him was short, 
the memories we shared have comforted me through-out the years.  
~~~~~


   
 


 

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

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.

Details | Quatrain Poem | |

After Christmas 2014 - In the Moment

The time is after midnight, and I’m in the moment, thinking how another Christmas has come and gone. My spouse and I are tucked in bed, warm and cozy. Outside, white beauty coldly blankets our front lawn. Snickers, our new dog, sleeps peacefully between us. The cat creeps up beside me now. How I love her! How trusting are these creatures God gives us - how pure! Our cat lies down by Snickers. I hear her soothing purr. The visit with our daughter and her family was nice. With gifts, glad hearts and tummies full, we traveled home. More memories to cherish; the old year passes. In the moment - grateful - I finish with this poem. Written right before bed 12/26/14 by andrea Dietrich For the "In the Moment" Poetry Contest of PD