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Quatrain Name Poems | Quatrain Poems About Name

These Quatrain Name poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Name. These are the best examples of Quatrain Name poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain |

Saved For Raven

Her daddy’s grave is the oldest,
His name is hard to read.
She knew his stone had corroded
And has brought supplies she’ll need.

Near to him is her young husband.
He had been the next to die.
She used to come here often
Just to sit by his grave and cry.

Next to her daddy is her mother
After twenty-one years alone 
Her name shows up clearer and newer
On her side of the stone.

As the years went by the lot filled up,
A beloved young nephew is there.
She reads his age of twenty-three
And thinks that it isn’t fair.

The lot started filling faster
With loved brothers and their wives.
She remembers kneeling with her loved son
And speaking with him of their lives.

And now there’s a grave much newer.
She hadn’t thought she would see this one.
His name is there so clear and bright,
The name of her only son.

She looks down to where she is standing
As she feels the cold wind stir. 
RAVEN is chiseled into the rock
At this spot reserved for her.

lBy: Joyce Johnson  shared first place with Linda Marie and Carrie.

For Constance "The Rambling Poet; contest "Among the Dead"

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

Beyond A Name

     With pride to boast when gnarled in vines
     that seek to take as nature's own
     this citadel of time will be defined
     more than just letters carved in stone

     Though time and tangled growth obscures
     truest course of meaning now laid to rest
     honor held most sacred from love endures
     upon this face were such intentions prest

     Proudly this guardian of life's measure stands
     a post to which nothing else would ever claim
     that beckons pride with hushed commands
     mysteries held to know beyond just a name

     Overgrown With Vines Contest
     Sponsored BY Broken Wings

Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

How Wounded Thunder Earned His Name

               You stand on "Wounded Thunder's” hallowed ground.

                He boomed such boastful tales  that fearless chief!

                There was no brave as clever to be found

                until he met the source of all his grief.

                There came a one who all his tricks would tell,

                and this is where he made his greatest blunder.

                The minx so bold who knew him all too well

                he married, . . . . and her name was "Stealing Thunder."

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Jeremiah is his name

An empty room was the scenery to his death
Not a single living soul was present to witness the events that took place
A sliding door covered with a mirror spoke back to him with his own reflection words spoken and breath
A change he saw in the playful mirror, he had a different face

A broken heart powered his spirit, a spirit that had lost all sense of direction
Fake, selfish to the heart he crawled into his path
All along yearning for his fathers attention
A feeling that he never met, for he was truly lost in the yearning of affection

Anger flowed in his heart
Hope was locked up, it wasn't free always it had a bail
He never truly mean to harm anyone, yet the ones closest to him felt it all, saw his spirit fail
Alas all was lost, his family, his dreams slapped him awake, awake to his reality in part

All alone, at the bottom of the pit
His heart was bleeding and not a soul around to aid him, he fell to his knees
With his heart in his hand, reaching for the sky, he asked Jesus to take his heart and dwell in it
An ugly howl of the mind with the spirit and soul all at one, gasping for air, for life he said "please"

Shattered, his all, he was nothing but dirt with dirt
His eyes blinded by the endless tears could not see the sky, a beautiful night it was
He asked with all his mind, heart and spirit to be forgiven for his past, for his fault for his flaws
At point zero he blacked out, he died

In his death he saw a light, brighter that the sun itself, it blinded the heart 
A presence he had never felt before came over him, yet there was no fear
Pleaing to his understanding, he knew it was good, and that shortly he would awake from his sleep
Wrong, for the light drew closer and it even spoke, at the words that vented into him, he did weep

A sense of security, of purity overwhelmed his body
Afraid he was not, for His Lord was the light
In the beginning, from the very start He was there to guide him into life herself, teaching him how to fight
Darkpoet died that night, but a new being was born! In the name of Jesus Christ, he was called Jeremiah

-God, father I have been seeking you all my life,
Here I am Lord to serve You, My King.
Jeremiah I shall be, to write for You Father.

Jeremiah Eduardo Orozco 

Copyright © Edward Orozco | Year Posted 2009

Details | Quatrain |

A Souper New Year! (Co-written with James Fraser)

In early spring I found you on Poetry Soup
A haven where wordsmiths congregate to recoup
Some sense of sanity in a world filled with grief
Your friendship, dear Highlander, has brought much relief

     Being new to writing, I decided to try
     So I joined the Soup, and a name caught my eye
     Carolyn Devonshire, was the name in question
     Her guidance has taken me to a different dimension

Who'd know the Soup would bring a Scottish writing mate
It was our destiny; now I believe in fate
A braveheart's pen paints history and mystery
Erasing fear and lifting me from misery

     No sooner had I arrived beautiful comments were received
     My writing was enjoyed and I now started to believe
     An American lady has become a soul mate and teacher
     Her words of kindness enhanced my words to be featured

So much loss I'd incurred just before we met here
Never had I dreamed of finding a comrade so dear
He reached across the sea and took me by the hand
And together we've escaped to fantasy lands

     Before the Soup, I posted somewhere else
     If you were not one of them you were left on the shelf
     But the Soup's beach babe led me by the pen
     I was absorbed in her circle right there and then 
James and I propose a toast to many Soup friends
Whose talents are displayed here again and again
Too many great writers to mention each one's name
A new year comes as you enter our Hall of Fame

Happy New Year from James and me to all of the Poetry Soup Family!

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009

Details | Quatrain |

Give a Dog a Bad Name

GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME I shouldn't have called my dog 'Todger' Though it seemed pretty cool at the time I didn't think it would hurt his feelings And be honest, it isn't a crime. We were really good pals to be truthful And 'Todger' became my best friend We would walk in the park in the evening On the beach almost every weekend We'd play 'fetch' with a ball or a frisbee In summer when evenings were light And he'd lay on the couch watching telly And on the foot of my bed every night And the landlord down at my local Thought 'Todger' was such a delight He turned a blind eye to his presence When I played darts on Wednesday night I'd sometimes go to the pub in the daytime To chat with a lonely old dear And she'd sit there and tickle my best pal Then slip him a saucer of beer Then we'd mosey back home together And search in the fridge for our tea Sometimes I'd give him some dog food And sometimes the same food as me Then just when life seemed so perfect It couldn't be better I thought Fate's fickle finger found me And singled me out for some sport For one dull afternoon we'd been drinking And had a few more than was wise I tried walking straight, but I couldn't It was something to do with my eyes And too many saucers of lager Had affected my best canine friend He was chasing his tail in a circle And driving himself round the bend So we headed for home in a stupor We weren't making very good speed And as we were passing the primary school He somehow escaped from his lead And shot through the school gates like lightning Then made for a half-open door With a mighty great leap he was through it And went skidding along on the floor I was stumbling along well behind him When I reached the door he was gone Then I heard shouts and screams from a classroom But I didn't know which was the one....... …..That my dopey drunk mutt had invaded So I barged through the door that was first And confronted a sea of young faces As into their classroom I burst Their teacher looked fearsome and threatening So really she left me no choice 'Have any of you kids seen my 'Todger' I screamed at the top of my voice That day wasn't my finest I know that myself all too well This poem that I'm writing for you I'm having to write from my cell As for 'Todger' he's now at my mother's While I'm sitting here in the nick No more silly dog names in the future Next time..........maybe Willy or Dick?

Copyright © Jim Bates | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |


Lord, I do not know what to do;
Please, lead me by Your side.
Decisions I'm facing are lost and through;
Please, lead me to do what's right.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Enjoy This Place

Follow your dreams and follow your heart;
God has shown you the path to start.
Never give up and always have faith;
Do what you love and enjoy this place!

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

The River Gomati-win

O grandma *Gomati, was born on thy bank
And born of a mother bearing your name
On all the yesterdays your water I drank
Am still the part of your pattern and frame.

My blood flows in thy stream meandering
It’s a kind of earthly immortality,
I stand by you and feel kinship endearing
Know not much about gods but your affinity

I learnt to strive, to sink and to seek depth ever
Simply Hydrogen and Oxygen doesn’t make water
Something third is needed to make you what you’re
Nobody knows except you Ma and your Creator.

Dr. Ram Mehta
June29, 2011

Twelwth Place win in

Contest: best dedication poem by P.D.


*Gomati is the name of the river in Gujarat State of India. My home town Dwarka 
where Lord Krishna ruled once, is on the bank of River Gomati. 

My mother too was born there and she was christened as Gomati after the name of the river.

Please click on the links below to see the pictures of River Gomati and the town Dwarka 
Copy and paste the links below to see pictures:( Please share it on my blog if this doesn't work)


Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

A Rose by Any Other Name

All the names are just the same
If you are sweet like a rose
I confess, I’m not impressed
Oh, how little that bard knows

For the name of your loved one
Can make you completely melt
When it’s breathed in your heart
Its vibrations are deeply felt

The name of your loved one
Is a promise in one word…
That his love is eternal 
His unfaithfulness, unheard

The name of your loved one
Is with passion intertwined
Your lips caress each letter
Your heart echoes it in rhyme

The name of your loved one
Is salvation’s greatest treat
Though you pass through gates of hell
It’ll take you to heaven sweet

The name of your loved one
Is simply beyond compare
No other name can match it
No other would even dare

And so it is, beloved
When we’re making love sublime
Your name bursts out from my lips
Making your sweet name… divine

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

20 Lines Haiku Hijack

          20 Line Haiku Hijack

I stole a haiku from Japan
Stuffed it in a duffle bag, added 20 lines
Fed it chocolate day and night before the flight
Then placed it on the market when I landed

Shrimp and whale tails make sound haiku 
Deliciously simple like sushi.  Japan hated mine.
Called it distasteful, too heavy and rude 
Complaining it suffered from too many lines

I sold the stolen poem to a toothless man next
An Afghanistan Taliban in need of a wife
He realized the mistake and returned it at once  
Calling it bland, loveless and torturously trite

I injected a diaphragm on the haiku 2nd line     
To prevent undo pregnancies
When left alone to expand, haiku will multiply on command
It grew from 3 to 20 lines in what Japan calls a crime

Hijacking haiku and adding more lines is wrong  
It changes the meaning and makes it too long
Haiku will never be the same again
In the end I put it on a train to India…a quatrain to be exact. 

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Barbara-Whats In Your Name

My name was popular way back when I was born
I’m sure my parents had no idea what it meant
It’s rare now, it surely sounds old fashioned
But I know my family thought I was heaven sent

”Foreigner, traveler and stranger” I am told
Odd that I have never even traveled very far 
Strangely enough I do have those yearnings
Perhaps I am really from a distant star….

I was named after a dear friend they say
She was a nurse and I became one too
Raised a family and have been content
Should I have traveled more? I wish I knew….

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Romani Gypsy

Gypsy soul born a wandering way
Bearer of passion age old and new
Who can tame your unbridled day
And live as Romani's do

Calloused hands speak not complaint
Who's bearings steer by twilights cue
A leisured life such charm forsake
To walk as Romani's do

To bitter end thine heart defend
For right to prove love true
Un-soulful touch could not pretend
To love as Romani's do

To give not weight to emotions sway
Is a labyrinth worth stumbling through
So lonesomeness owns not the day
To cry as Romani's do

A gypsies search to revel in spoils
In solitudes song or convivial crew
Between extremes it's harmony joins
To sing as Romani's do

Coursed by vein to entertain
An artists heart steeped and brewed
Banjara kuchi meets tambourine  
To dance as Romani's do

Mysterious eyes tint hardened lives
Breeding bonds so deep and few
To be a part of this honored tribe
And die as Romani's do

The gypsies way one does not choose
It's spirit inborn and it grew
From India's caves to the vagabond strays
A Romani remains forever on the move

Copyright © Sarai Virden | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Sea Echo's My Name

Transparent of darkness of the sea touched only briefly
state of lonely madness in disfigured shadows
bowed moonlight mastering feats of fathom light that is calling so swiftly.....

I plant feet deep unto the bright that are traveled in sweeping waves
more reluctant butterfly of the fathom of light
I have begged to fly into the bittersweet swells
misty future to forsake floating unseen creatures
in the stormy seas ...

I preferred to stare to the future and bury my eyes
from the nonchalance of living things and lies
that face others on this living night....

Thoughts that never left a simply poet like me
calling mysteries to explore holding on to answers
with all my heart in the fathom light of the sea that echo's my name...


Copyright © Brooke Dylan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |



His heart is so tender,
To care his ugly love,
Controlling his anger,
He behaves like a dove.

Like a roaring ocean,
He fights with everyone,
Who hurts her emotions,
He is her strong forefront.

He is of monarch clan,
No match his ugly 
But bows down like 
blind man,
Infront of his belove.

His unspoken love reigns,
Worthy of worshipful, 
Her hero has a name,
His name is beautiful.

Watisungla Ao
9th May 2013

Copyright © Watisungla Ao | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Who Am I

Who Am I

The humble bee, it seems, is me,
(Not the drone, but the Queen)!
Unselfishly I'll serve at tea...
Or pack a deadly sting!

I also was a Judge of old...
Held court beneath a Palm. 
Steadfast to God, His wisdom told;
I was a Nation's mom!

Now, acting, singing, also art,
Are, too, my healing oil;
But, Cleopatra stole the heart
Of Aluminum foil!

1.16.2017©deborah burch 

Form: Quatrain 
Theme: my name

Answers to riddle: (for those who don't know;))

1. Deborah means bee in Hebrew
Bees serve for the good of others and provide
Sweet nourishment as well
2. Judges 4-5 in the Old Testament of the Bible
Is the story of Deborah: she was the 4th Judge of 
Israel...and was called the mother of Israel (good
3. Far too many years ago, it was popular to name 
Daughters after movie stars...this one was friends 
With Elizabeth Taylor and sent her husband to console
Her after her husbands death(they were all good friends)
Liz was filming "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" at the time
Of her husbands death...amazing performance. 
But, Debbie Reynolds (Fisher), lost her husband
As well...to Liz Taylor!!

Copyright © Deborah Burch | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

A Tree Stump

Some take checkers seriously, so do I.
I recorded my games without fail,
in the little park located close by.
Listen closely, you will like my tale.

Under the umbrella of an old live oak
sits a stump about chair seat high.
Not many things in this life evoke
such comforting tears to my eye.

A marble statue now, cast in memory
with so many names, a number beside.
The board inlaid, made of emory, ivory,
cast by an artisan in loving pride.

The real stump looked much the same.
I would challenge all comers of any age.
No one but me ever lost a game.
Beating me was a neighborhood rage.

The checker board sat on the stump.
I would log each name and the score.
Allowing points for each kind of jump.
Soon the board back held no more.

The oldest challenger I had was ten.
The thing was, if they won I got a hug.
They knew I wouldn’t feel so bad then.
Once hooked, from then I had the bug. 

Continuing as such in similar rendition,
‘Til came a letter from an art museum.
It spoke of a piece commissioned
by a local director of an atheneum.

Excited I walked to the old stump
looking for the name of the benefactor.
As I saw the name I felt my heart jump.
That small guy with the red toy tractor.

© Oct 26 2010   Charles Henderson   7 th in
Matt's "I fell in love with a tree stump" contest


Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

The Birth Of A Girl The Birth Of A Boy

In a forest a girl was born   
A girl born oh so poor
This girl then caused this world now torn
Her birth opens a sore

But we do not now this girl mourn
She was left some money
A thrifty woman not to scorn
Then a taste of honey

She met a man she was forlorn
Bore a son Alois
Unwed and aging, no ring worn
No ring, so still a Miss.

Her bastard son none could be warned
When his mother did wed
He gave a name the world did scorn
A name that all wished dead

If his mother knew what was born
Hitler the name we know
I wonder would she have  been torn?
To give him birth, or no.

© 09/01/2013 ~GG~

Contest Entry.

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |


Some people use poetry to say ugly things;
Write filth and then call it art.
They expose all the sludge their mind can concoct,
And they think that this makes them look smart.

They think they're so cool, so with it, so smart,
Such worldly sophisticates,
When in truth they're telling all the world,
That they're base, depraved, mis-fits.

They expose the true nature of their way of life.
They think that this makes them so free.
They cannot see that they've sold their souls,
And they're slaves to debauchery.

For certain sex is a large part of life,
And holds an important spot;
But it's only one part and you haven't got much,
If in truth that's all that you've got.

Who really cares what you did last night;
Or who it was you did it with;
And for you to spread it abroad to all,
Cheapens and makes it no gift.

There is so much beauty and fun in this world,
And it's all there to taste and to savor.
How boring to live in a candy store,
And never taste more than one flavor.

People make fun of animals because they are so natural about their life and so unashamed,
but they are the only ones who have not sullied what God meant as a blessing.
They are the only ones who have remained just as God intended them to be.
We on the other hand destroy or dirty everything we touch and turn God's most intimate blessings into a dirty joke.It sure makes me tired.
Can anyone explain this to me?
Kind of gives the Scripture" The meek shall inherit the earth." new meaning doesn't it.

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |


The same deadly story unfolds
Mumbai, Pune, Varanasi
Bombs rip apart our souls
When will stop this atrocity

They come in the form of Demons
Kill in the name of God
Nature created species and humans
Why Humans created God?

Bloated egos fill some minds
Hatred makes the world go blind
We are all born to die
This is not the way, we cry

Swear in the name of dead
To slay in the name of God
Dangerous game triggered by man
The same God will destroy man

Copyright © Suresh Iyer | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

Christian Name

God or Father Christ calls each one by name
Everyone’s name is sacred
The Name is the icon of the person
It demands respect as a sign of dignity of one who bears it

Written 09122012 CCC 2158

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

For old Star-Gazer Master Khayyam - a name like Shakespeare's for some other giants - Part Two

For Old Star-Gazer Master Khayyam – a name like Shakespeare’s for “some” other giants – Part Two


Is there an answer to this gaping question
       Will that something which follows on behave
Here at least we know death despises life
       What do you call that which you have

Do you die too after what length of time
       What do you do while you wait for the end
What space d’you occupy in our timespace
       Or does anti-self exist in a parallel dimension

Not that these make worrisome questions
        Nice to know we don’t quite disappear
Right out and that we go on despite reasons
       Or perhaps for nothing much after all

Here we are caught in swirling whirlwinds
       Of petty time-pinching emergencies
We give what we can of our might to those
       We care for reserving the best for ourselves

Sooner or later the world would just peter out
       First the sun would give up its nuclear fissions
Slowly fizzing down while its body bloats out
       Then the earth and planets would fry out

Would you be still around or would we be too
       And when the solar system freaks out
What will be the fate of your bodiless forms
       Or would you be hiding in some safe black hole


What good would it do to know the final outcome
       If you are caught in a terrestrial fateful bind
So do we all the ultimate spacial expanse become
       Locked into it all by no-backtracking time

Does what matters to you be of no moment to us
       Do we need to be wily to hanker after heaven
We’re either just alone or wholly naked forsaken
       Or fused in a mounting blinding swirling circus

Some may call this the ultimate form of Oneness
       Some the Godhead that directs all our wills
Some might prefer the wayward terror of ghosts
       Some just can’t bother one way or the other

Some who suffer ill the womb of common unity
       Decide to come together only to wreak hell
These harden without mercy for what they wreak
       They whose work you put down to devilry

So where lies the good of your worry-dispelling verse
      Long have we lost the feeling for your example
Yes at first yes repentance we experienced at parting
      Sorrow at what we might have wanted to curse

But all that jitterbug’s gone past by now
      We know darnwell better now the dance
No use bothering with what anxious selves see
      Over what will or will not after be

There is just this enormous monstrous engine
      It throbs on seemingly without and within
Who knows why or who deemed it must
      It simply rumbles on whether you think it just

Myself when young did dwell so long
      Upon your sweet O deep forbidden verses
Draughts in tankards quaffed I with song
      Dreams couched in nubile cascading tresses	

                     TAMUM SHUD 

June 16/18, 1996
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016, revised from: longhand notes (a binding of poems),

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

My Name Isn't Jack

Gonna let you all in on a little secret My real name isn't Jack at all Charles is the name I was christened with A late change caused a huge falderal My seven older sisters ended up in a furor A last minute change by my dad Didn't go over well with the seven of them So this joyful event became sad His reason for making this last minute change Was to honour his brother Charley Who died a big hero in the first World War Sisters thought the change was too tardy So they decided to call me Jack anyway In spite of dad's last minute switch His reason for making this admirable change Wasn't reason to change their wish So keep on calling me Jack my good friendlies It's stuck with me for 79 years If you call me Charles, I can certainly guarantee Won't answer unless I've had too many beers! True story! © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Green land

The land is green
In flag and corns
Her coat is green
And her steeds' horns.

The land is green 
So footest her harvest
Her coat is green
And so win her chest.

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |


This is a song to be sung by a lady so if there's one out there who thinks this worthy, sings and writes music take this and run with it.  The only thing I want is the knowledge that someone used it...thanks if anyone can do this:

I remember when the boy next door first knocked upon my door
I’d seen him washing his ninety-six Chevy two days before
He was shirtless and sweating while wetting down his wheels
And that is when a lady’s desire and lack of better judgment congeals

I think it was blue with writing that read “Body By Design”
I’m talking about the shirt of a man I’d like to make mine
With ripples and his rough spots in all the perfect places
Yet soft enough to hold me and enfold me in his embraces

The boy next door had a two-door Chevy he named “Beth”
He saw me as I walked by in short-shorts and very short of breath
The boy next door was breathtaking with eyes of beautiful blue
Someone who could make this girl next door’s dreams come true

But who, I wondered, was this lady by the name of Beth
Could he have confused the “B” as in boy with an “S” as in Seth?
Yes, that’s the circumstance now I’m sure with certainty
His name is Seth, there is no Beth, and I know that certainly

I remember when the boy next door first knocked upon my door
I’d seen him washing his ninety-six Chevy two days before
He was shirtless and sweating while wetting down his wheels
And that is when a lady’s desire and lack of better judgment congeals

That boy next door went from door to door looking for a kiss
While I waited at my door for the boy next door to come and kiss this miss
Finally we kept kissing and his beauty made my feverish flesh cold
And still gives me chills and thrills while he carries me over the threshold

The boy next door had a two-door Chevy that he named “Beth”
He saw me as I walked by in short-shorts and very short of breath
The boy next door was breathtaking with eyes of beautiful blue
The boy next door who made this girl next door’s dreams come true
And now the boy next door is the boy next door no more
Since that boy next door and I now share the very same front door
The very same…………… front door!
                      © 2012…copyright PHREEPOETREE..~free cee!~ 

Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

The Name Of The Game Is Change

The more things seem to be changing The more they stay the same We must adapt and go with the flow Because change is the name of the game We struggle to keep our heads above water There are times it's a losing battle We get caught up in just making ends meet Sometimes we're like a herd of cattle However when we reach our senior years When pressures seem less intense It's nice to sit back and reflect on life And remember each happy event It's then we realize what life's all about Not about the number of possessions It's being happy and content in your skin And using time left with discretion © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

My Name

When I was born, my name was very rare.
In fact, it never has been all the rage!
So I am glad my name is not the same
as many other women of my age.

Not only that, my name is beautiful.
Reflections of one’s soul a name can be!
And so I hope I emulate this name
Mom chose for me, for it means “womanly.”

Written Jan. 17, 2017 for Silent One's What's in a Name Poetry contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

For old Star-Gazer Master Khayyam - a name like Shakespeare's for some other giants - Part One

For old Star-Gazer Master Khayyam – a name like Shakespeare’s for « some » other giants - Part One


Why don’t they ever come back? 
      Even if it’s just to say
We are still there or gone for a while
      Or just too damned busy

That’s the reason why we’re absent
      And not for what people say
We’re gone with the last breath
      Gone for good into the beyond

If that’s so then just let us have a sign
     Why more than just a sign
Make Shakespeare direct our hand
     Let loose Hamlet anew on the Strand

And if that’s too difficult
     Ask of Aristotle
The text of his lost poetics
     Cast in a hard disc

Better still command the Son of God
     To make a grand appearance
Fanfares heralding the event
     In a technicolour firmament

Or make known to us 
     The lost masterpieces
The great forging inventions
     Bombed to ashes in wars

Or for the departed father
     To come set his house in order
Brother against brother
     For want of a better master

O Where have they all gone
     Leaving us in their muddles
Such a kyrielle of contortions
     We leave for those behind us

Those of us who piled effort upon effort
     For a better day for ourselves
Now going we rued the tightfistedness
     And the bitterly whining quarrels

We have no need to come back
      To see the mess we’ve left behind
We who ourselves had to sort out
      Our fathers’ mighty ill-windfalls

Nor to see what each does in quiet
      In your sleep in lavs behind walls
What we ourselves did of course
      And thought no one ever the wiser

To see how each of you clings to his shell
      To make it shine best of all
Only to see how ours turned to loams
      Or into a fistful of ashes and bones

 All all for the pleasure of another body
      Bodies oozing with slime and foetid stench
From all we stuffed them with in contempt 
      Worse still what the voracious brain we fed

Is it for this carpe diem reason
      And for all that they say is vanity
For the futility of non-interference
      In whose favour might we intervene

Since all sides pit against all sides
      Just to keep the inter-twining yin and yang
In constantly conflicting tug-of-wars
      That makes for progress of sorts

That we see no reason to pull either way
      For you do it well enough without aid
Though some amongst us wish for revenge
      And perhaps tilt the balance now and then

But you are none the wiser in your pain
      For you think only of your body’s gain
And those in whose breeding chain
      You thought you couldn’t lose in vain

But where’s the justice in this all
      Living we too strained to achieve
Dying we saw the futility of it all
      Just a game dying from boredom

Better we know now we see you in tether
      There’s no justice either way
Somehow the particles come together
      And strive to make sense of one another

With the result there is life
      There is a building in strife
Mounting to an ultimate prize
      The creation of the perfect monster

Once the form is gone the content
       Takes no form of its own
The content is the form’s overall product
        Born of a lifetime’s construct

Dying thus gives fresh birth
        To what is not of this earth
We are free to roam and rollick
        Though we see no point to it

Being without form we may merge
        Into one whole formless mass 
Or simply drop out inane
        As you the voyeurs in a train 

Here they waft those great Persian savants
        A sardonic smile all that’s left of them
They who best knew how the heady wine 
        Made one forget the burden of the grind

Yet none read his verse for fear of contempt
        Those who do  make little of the rhyme
Others cried foul for he preached the impossible
        Are wine women and song bought for a dime

Turn away from us for your time has come
        No need to ask us the reason for your end
You too will know the total of your sum
        And face another dilemma round the bend        

June 16/18, 1996
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016 from the collection : longhand notes (1999)

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

What's in a Name

I need to remind myself why
As to why my name is required
Is it to look at the same old name
To become literally tired

Or do I read into an abyss
Where one needs a clue to be
I'm estranged as to why my name
Requires the reader to see

I can live for centuries
The desire to see, never compared
So why should I write my name
When I'm blank, my write is spared

Maybe I'm tired with age
Or common sense allows my right
I need to remind myself why
That who should know my writes


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

Squeeze Those Dangly Things

We all wake up every morning To a day like no other before This world is still an experiment With lots of mysteries to explore One that's uppermost on peoples' minds And a question unanswered so far Is how they get the caramel inside A Cadbury's Caramilk bar Or why kamikaze pilots wear helmets They're going to wind up in a crash And how much spit does a person produce Or how long is a hundred yard dash Why don't nose hairs have to be trimmed Is there a name for a male ballerina Can illiterate people eat alphabet soup How many octaves in an ocarina Who was the first person to look at a cow Started squeezing those dangly things Then drank the stuff that came pouring out They must have been real ding-a-lings Did you ever get up and brush your teeth And realized you're wiggling your bum Why toasters toast till it's beyond recognition Stating your name at AA, that's dumb Pretty sure corn oil is made from corn Wonder where baby oil is took Why is it that something you're looking for Is always in the last place you look Well that's it for this mangey old geezer My brain is beginning to ache If you know the answer to any of these Then speak up for goodness sakes © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013