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Best Poems Written by Gerard Quain

Below are the all-time best Gerard Quain poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Being Invisible

I sit and watch the world pass
Wrapped up against the elements
A door way for a home
Against the world alone


The heaving  rush of busy people
Going faster to their destinations
No time to worry about the poor
Averted eye's their noble cure


Sleeping with one eye open
Fearful of the thugs that come out  at night
Another day alone passes
Can't afford rose tinted glasses


The soup runners treat us well
Without them, the world be hell
In the morning rush, they walk over me
An invisible man, can't make a plea

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Tilting At Windmills

The grinding millstone
The chaff invested air
The lone miller bow's in prayer
Seemingly lost in the chaos
The code of honour
Looking through the opaque
The lone miller, is he sage
Or lost in the modern age
Tilting at windmills
Is he a quixotic man
Doubtful it was a plan
His prayer said
Now he mixes
Rye, wheat, corn
Out of this, bread is born
Body  soul and redemption
Made of hand, blessed with spirit
The lone miller, is he sage
Or is he lost  in the modern age
Tilting at windmills
The code of honour reclaimed
The nature of a man, set free
Tilting  at windmills
He will always be

Details | Gerard Quain Poem

Chatterbox

What a beautiful concept
A box to put chat in
Another pigeon for the common man
Labels so easily fit
When one seriously thinks of it
Just imagine it  if you will
A box to lock gossips in
To kill their cackle
To tighten their loose tongues
To make them quiver a little less
But not I begin to digress
Sometimes I am guilty of their  sin
To rant to rave
To become a slave to the shallow
Listening to their vile attempts
To bring humanity to its lowest ebb
A chatterbox indeed would be  handy in times of woe
To silence my myriad foes

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Going To the Desert

Going to the desert
Trying to remember your name
Pondering your gift
Was it all in vain


The three wise monkey's
Light up their spliff's
Human beings turn into lemmings
And gather at the cliff's


Going to the desert
Trying to remember your name
Pondering your gift
Was it all in Vain


Economists play a hot tune
As the blind mice dance
As the beat builds
Everyone is caught in a trance


Going to the desert
Trying to remember your name
Pondering your gift
Was it all in vain


The bankers want a pound of flesh
But they say they don't want blood
Tell that to the poor
When they gentrify their neighbourhood


Going to the desert
Trying to remember your name 
Pondering your gift
Was it all in vain


Lord above forgive  us
For our considerable  shame
We know not , what , we do
We just play the game


Going to the desert
Trying to remember your name
Pondering your gift
Was it all in vain

Details | Gerard Quain Poem

Clone

To parents
I am the replacement
The new hope
To medicine
I am multi donation
An organ harvest
For a sick nation
To agriculture
I am renewal , without obligation
Mutton always dressed as lamb
To politicians
I am a universal pawn
To be bartered or  thrown away
To war
I am the never ending battle
Action replays , tactics displayed
But without end
To peace
I am countless new white cross's
The reason you never count losses
To you
I am answers, questions, fear and elation
That contradicts all of creation
To me
I am a lost soul
I am freedom without control
Petri dish exploration
How can you call me son, if I am no relation

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Deep and Profound

Deep and Profound

She is so deep
You never know  her at all
The enigmatic smile
Denies the sadness of her eyes
She has been the victim
Of oh so many lies
The weariness of her sigh
Suggests she is so tired
Yet when she sings
The passion in her voice
It electrifies the silence
How could this be
This love beyond her vanity

Deep and profound
The resonance of  all her yesterdays
The shadow's and the ghost's
Trying to claim her memories
Before she is overcome
Deep and profound
A ballad  of  life
So full of thorn-ed roses
Scarred by there embraces
So deep and profound
So she tries to cover the traces
Lost in the lyrics
So deep and profound

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Scyophantic Syncapation

We dance  to a drum beat
We all thought we were individual
But we are just line dancing through life
No one truly steps out of line
We have false dawns
We think we are protesting against the world we find
Instead we end up endorsing fear
The new leaders of the line , pray upon our deepest fears
But the regime stays the same, rich against the poor
The drum is on a loop
Protected by the vested interests
They just use us like shields
Right wing, left wing
A bird needs two wings to fly
We  humans share the one planet
Maybe we should give it a  try
To come together , to share the bounty
Instead of imbalance, we could try humanity
But that  is a step beyond the masters of the line
We must think beyond the half truths, the fake truths and the alternative facts
This planet is not renewable , it is not a plastic sphere
It is not a sound bite lets make that clear
Lets allow the different melodies and rhythms combine
Maybe we can all dance to different  beats
Without threading on each others feet

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Leap With Me

Have you ever seen the like of it before
The mad people leaping around the floor
There is no music I can hear
It's all in the head , the mad leaper said
It's all in the head
First thing in the morning
Last thing at night
These leaper's never stop
Are they completely mad, I had to ask
Oh no, came the reply, this what they do
They have got an art's grant don't you know
So leaping mad they must go
Their inspected once a month
Just in case their not leaping high enough
To keep the grant, you have to be tough 
It's all sort mad, If not a little sad
In life you have to take good and bad
The good rarely get a grant
But then they don't know how to leap and rant
So leap with me to make a quid
For art is art , or so they say
But to most , art is no good , unless it pays

Details | Gerard Quain Poem

History of Time

History  of Time


Wind up your watches
Lets hear them tick
Seconds, minutes, hours
Time, date, day, year
The history auditors are here
They review, and revise
But always without fail, they omit the truth 
They magnify the lies
Old money, is never guilty of any crime
The laws were different, in their time
But they're still the masters
The history  auditors dance to their tune
Women forgotten, never venerated
Weak men obsessed with  power and greed
To be always hailed as a daring breed
Wind up your watches
Lets hear them tick
Seconds, minutes, hours  
The history auditors are here
You won't be remembered
Unless you belong to the right club
The passage of time an  edited story
To re-enforce the merits of vanity
Wind up your watches
lets hear them tick
This is the history auditors at  play
And Knowing ignorance works of pay