Quatrain Write Poems | Quatrain Poems About Write

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

The poem(s) are below...

Details | Quatrain |

Reflections from a Toiling Sonneteer

One’s poetry not always will unfold beneath its author’s pen as some suppose. And poetry one is to yet behold might slowly bloom before one plucks that rose. At times the lines come breech, the labor hard. A trial of thought; a repositioning of words emerging, offspring of the bard! And then at last, the poet’s heart will sing. The poet must write always, lest his mind grow barren, for not always can he know his muse will be there. She’s not always kind, but oh, the joy, when verses want to flow! 1/8/13 For Russell Sivey's Poetry About Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Ode to Poetry Critics (Co-written with James Fraser)

Wipe that silly grin from your face, boy
I am a woman, but certainly not a wimp
Watch me roll with the punches, tough guy
It'll take more than your words my style to crimp

    Hey, babe, your style really sucks
    Call that art, I have seen kids write better
    Have some heart, instill it in your writes
    Feel the moment, feel those letters

My feelings are there, you just may not relate
If you can't grasp my intent, too bad for you
I write from my heart, not from a man's head
I know what I'm saying, you just haven't a clue

     Oh, i see you have posted another piece
     Let me read and determine my thoughts
     Excellent shape and so true to form
     This definitely has plusses, you must be man taught

Hold on, joker, no man has influenced me          
Dickinson and Teasdale are among the finest
Your thoughts on my work I'll disregard
Your views on poetry reveal your blindness

      The last write you wrote, has invited my see
      It has clearly shown, your writing to be
      Scope, shape and the form you have written
      I have scrolled to your past, and I am sorrowful smitten

No more condescending from ye on the throne?
What was it that made you feel superior?
And, furthermore, what gave you the right
To make any poet feel inferior?

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

What Where Who

What, Where, Who

If I where asked the what, where, who
That drives me to write poetry
I’d say that if I only knew
I’d leave right now this misery

But I’m afraid I’m not the sort
To answer in straight fashion
I have to offer my retort
With words of heartfelt passion

For just the other day I found
Encounter gave me food for thought
Soon the words they were outbound
Jumbled as they rushed and fought

Though ne’er the less inspired me
To battle on my way
Look toward the end and see
Which words I could display

Confess do I quite openly
That I am ignorant
Of  poetry’s technology
Coz grasp it I just can’t

I wouldn’t know a what’s it called
From a what’s its name
In my mind won’t stay installed
Confusion is its game

But I somehow, find I can
Muddle through at best
Organise a crafty plan 
And set my brain the test

For out there I see loneliness
Suffering and pain
A world in turmoil and distress
That cannot stake its claim

I look for every trait in man
Into the soul I stare
At his betrayal and flim-flam
Also the ladies fair

Dear love will always be there
And so will Demon war
And my thoughts on these I’ll share
Of that you can be sure

Laughter I would hope to bring
Sadness sometimes to the fore
Of natures forces I will sing
The list goes on galore

Yes I will write throughout the night
With hope to de-confuse
I’ll try to offer some insight
By giving up my muse

So now you know the what and where
But what about the who
Inspiring people are out there
Who knows - it could - be you 

And what about that misery
I spoke of up above
Well, I gave that up for music
Of the poetrysoupers love x


Copyright © Richard D Seal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

A Poetic Caress

I write of things that are real
and yet so hard to express.
And encourage hearts to feel
with a poetic caress.

My pen interrogates pain
exposing the hidden dirt.
And redefines what is sane
trying to explain the hurt.

My poems capture feelings
from first breath to death's embrace.
And shattering glass ceilings
examine pride and disgrace.

My words reach out to a few
going beyond expected norms.
And challenge their point of view
through rhyme or established forms.

My muse supercedes all bounds
exhuming dead dreams and fears.
And my fragmented heart pounds
dissecting anguish and tears.

My soul pools in hurting hearts
as it leaks upon the page.
And anxiety departs
from the heart of this old sage.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Too Much Nasty Poetry

I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things, 
like maybe watching birds.

So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.

It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.

My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.

No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.

Copyright © Mary Nagy | Year Posted 2005

Details | Quatrain |

free cee SHE DOES dedicated to DONNA JONES a poet supreme

                                                         SHE DOES
she does make me feel whole
she does touch the intricacies of my soul
she does, and she does it all
with every poem she answers a holy dove's call

she does thrill me body and bone
she does make me feel no longer alone
she does write words I could never duplicate
she does write words that will allow her into Heaven's gate

she does something that makes me feel real
she does write words that describe how I feel
she does scribe stanzas that shake me awake
she does put into words feelings for this poet's sake

she does know the respect I hold for a poet of her grade
she does know the lady has a soul only the universe has made
she does write words that set my spirit free
alas, she probably doesn't know what her words mean to me
   © 2013..copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

To Spread Ones Wings and Fly

Sometimes I've stopped and wondered As I write from day to day To spread ones wings and fly And let the anew have their say There are so many horizons In the distance of our lives To spread ones wings and fly Where new writing newly strives Audiences abound our globe Where fresh learning's can be found To spread ones wings and fly Maybe there's a common ground Topics to capture young thoughts Like fantasy and the dark To spread ones wings and fly It would be churlish not to be a part To write and grow with tomorrows kind Is to enjoy the enriching road To spread ones wings and fly And settle into a new abode Writers and poets so Are to be read, and to aim for print To spread ones wings and fly And capture the readers glint Sometimes I've stopped and wondered More so, very recently To spread ones wings and fly And to find where ones writings to be http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/writing.php

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

4 in less than forty


Have to be somewhere in 40 mins
Enough time to write at least one
Fortunately I’m not using and pens
Else I would not be close to done

Of course you see the form I write
One familiar yet still complicated
It should be easy I write every night
Why my poems are often post dated

Halfway there only three minutes gone
Can I write eleven of these in my time
Maybe but could I post them all as well
Not sure, but I wouldn’t even bet a dime

The last I didn’t rhyme of first and third
I will admit I normally will rhyme abab
But in my amount of time that’s absurd
I am trying to finish quickly as you see


I already finished one how about another
The next line already in my head of course
Now you are probably saying o brother
This guy is a distinct body member of a horse

Really it’s just practice and having a bit of fun
I am definitely bored at this very early hour
I’m also texting a friend here and think of pun
I’d tell her what I think, but she might be sour

The last of course was purely a joke my friend
No evil thoughts currently in my head Miss PD
I at present, do not have that emotion to lend
Or maybe it was serious the last stanza hehehe

This is so much fun, a great way to pass time
You should try it, if you would possibly dare
I have said time a million times in my rhyme
Take time reading them, go ahead and stare

Copyright © wayland bunch | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Solar Eclipse

There's something I feel that I still haven't said,
Quotes that haven't straddled my lips.
When poetry wheels don't turn in my head,
Words can cast a solar eclipse.

©2012 Honestly JT

Copyright © Honestly J.T. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Sitting in my Office

Sitting in my office
Papers scattered everywhere
Mid-term tests to type up
I've lost the heart to care

Sitting in my office
Reading some sweet rhyme
Wanting to write my own
But I'm so pressed for time

Sitting in my office
Typing fervently
No set theme in my mind
Just sharing part of me

Sitting in my office
Wish I could amaze
My words are all so...dead
Because I'm in a daze

Sitting in my office
Hoping my muse will bring
A dreamy gift of words
That makes hearts dance and sing

Sitting in my office
I let out a heavy sigh
Time to pack up and go
For now this is goodbye

Eileen Manassian

I know....Sometimes you just want to do anything but what you are supposed to do. You just want to give in your obsession to write....to taste and experience and live and breathe and live and live and live...and you're stuck in your office with deadlines looming over your head...wishing you were writing poetry tucked up cozy in your bed! :(

I'm in a crazy mood. See you all in a few hours when I'm rested. It's been a long day. Tomorrow is every longer.

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |


From the very moment you were conceived I loved you I could feel you kick, as a new life grew inside me One day you stopped moving, and tragically I knew Holding my newborn baby was never meant to be Original Laura Loo's contest Weepy Quatrain awarded 1st place Submitted to best poem from any of Laura Loo's contests 03~29~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |


My blood trickles
through the tip of my pen
as my soul is exposed
yet once again.

Naked, my words
slowly open the door,
and step into the world
largely ignored.

Fearfully, they
confront giants of hate,
bigotry, ignorance,
Thus fixing their fate.

So bleeding, I
press my pen to the page
and bear my soul once more
to cowards’ rage.

Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

18 Stoic Faces

 18 Stoic Faces
- by Bob Atkinson

eighteen stoic faces
faced four who had come
to read the erudite refrains
of poets both dead and gone

readings were in earnest spoken
for respect for some who had
garnered from the establishment
accolades, awards, well sanctioned

yes, eighteen stoic faces
faced four who read so good
those meaningless diatribes
of useless linguistic words

significance became not evident
for similes provided here
metaphors vaguely crafted caused
me not them to revere

this didn't change my attitude
my demeanor didn't rise
waiting for an end to it
was my only real desire

so I couldn't clap and whistle
and be smiling in my face
that would not have been sincere
became just a little bit ashamed

whistle I didn't do at all
felt not much real emotion
gave a polite nod to those speaking
headed quickly out the door

save me from disjointed thoughts
can't those people see the truth
senseless disorganization
does not good poetry produce
of those thoughts not poetry 
I firmly do believe
the fireplace requires cellulose
for bright flames to feed

listless words written poorly
carried my imagination not
was frozen in my dreamy state
rusted any worthwhile thoughts 

next week went to Vegas
to see the eagle band
and watch as pure emotion
rocked that audience grand

ten thousand had paid apiece
a couple hundred bucks
to see those wordly masters
like Henley, Frey and such

they told of the situation
which emotion played upon
a woman's real life choices
why she'd become despondent

ten thousand cheered upon
recognition of great words
displayed while coddled with sounds
soft guitars and drums beat purrs
I thought "now here lies real poetry"
not those prissy kind of words
that speak only of the unimportant
with wispy mindless verbs

some lock credentials grand
for that which moves us not
and laugh at the suggestion
that song is our greatest art

me, I have a vision
that we shall all enjoy
songs we've grown up with
as emotional literal tomes

Copyright © Bob Atkinson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

I Used to Write for You

I used to write for you
Hoping you’d see and read
It was my only means
To reach you in your dreams

I used to write for you
Sweet word kisses for your heart
With hopes you’d smile much brighter
Your load a little lighter

I used to write for you
Lover’s lines to touch your soul
Little rhymes to make you feel
A love that defies the real

I used to write for you
And now, how can I write?
When you are no longer you
But someone I never knew

I used to write for you
Used to…Used to…Used to
Yet again I write, it seems
For you still live in my dreams

My heart I must now reveal
Surely you know what's inside
I still…I still write for you
For my honored word is true  


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

And So I Write

Dreams of Tuscany
With drawn lips
Portrayed like a silver chain
Where hearts surge to follow
Feathers from wings of night
Sits a poet with the stirring of light
Paints a pretty picture
With their words of life
That echoes through their corridors of their mind
Their hearts hold many sorrows riding slow in life
Many battles have been won
With their mighty muse
Many blessings to each dear
Poet for all the obstacles
To overcome
Nothing fancy mind you...Just
Sweet thoughts to each one that must write this night....


Copyright © Brooke Dylan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Dance Groove

As I move to define my groove
I step in and out of line as smooth
as my groove is youth
redefined in the soul of the music

Copyright © ken carlson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |


                                             WRITER'S BLOCK

                                           THE WOULD-BE POET

I thought I'd write a word or two,
Like all them famous poets do,
And then mayhap I would be known,
And folks would ask me to intone,

The lyrics that were world renown,
In recitals throughout town;
So I sat down with pen and waited,
For inspiration, breath abated.

I waited long into the night,
Then came the dawn and morning's light.
I thought I'd write a word or two,
Short story, pome, just one or two,

But seems to me there's no such luck,
So I got in my pick up truck,
And drove around to clear my head,
It did no good, my muse is dead;

Or else she's just abandoned me,
I prayed to her on bended knee,
But as far as I can see,
This effort's in futility.


For Block, Block, Block Contest by Detroyer Poet

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

Living the Words We Write

I wish I could live the words I write
And the thoughts that I hope they construe. 
I prefer the person on paper
To the one that is always in view. 

Emotions I express on paper
Reflect how I think the world should be. 
But the courage to bring them to life
Has a way of circumventing me. 

The thoughts that I convey aren't contrived
They are part of the true inner me. 
I can find the words to relay them;
On paper, not in reality. 

I don't accept life for what it is
And then adhere to the status quo. 
I like to imagine what could be,
And that's mostly frowned upon, I know. 

Copyright © Joe Murphy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

The Old and Lonely Poet

On edge of arid desert set
a trailer aged in rust
with tires flattened long ago
and covered thick with dust.
A friend I'd known for many years
had lived alone inside -
and if his lamp was burning, then
I knew he hadn't died.

The lamp seemed always to be lit
but never did complain.
Then sure enough, I saw him there
through dirty window pane.
The Great Depression hurt him so.
I saw it in that place.
I saw it in his lonely words.
I saw it in his face.

The mental stress that he went through
was far too much to bear -
and would have been for anyone
if they were sitting there.
But they were not.  Just he alone
survived his great ordeal.
And his reward?  An empty can,
a cold and meager meal.

The old man couldn't hear too good.
The years had quickly passed -
so catching his attention, I
tapped loudly on the glass.
It seemed to take forever, but
he made it to the door.
Black cobwebs hung from corners and -
newspapers hid the floor.

He greeted me with friendly eyes,
skin wrinkled deep from sun.
He made me feel welcome, though
his work was never done.
I visited for quite awhile
as he kept at his rhymes.
He changed his thoughts, his lines, his words
at least a thousand times.

I said, "It must be good enough."
Replied he, "Not at all.
It doesn't capture God's great love.
This needs an overhaul.
For God is love and God is grace
in absolute perfection -
so how can I write something less
to add to this collection?

"This poetry I write for God
must always be perfected -
or basket, full of waste, is filled
with poems I've rejected."
I fell asleep while sitting there.
I woke at 3 AM
and heard him mumble something like,
"...to change the hearts of them."

Observed, I did, his wise old ways.
I'd learned all that I could -
but never measured up to him -
my writing, not as good.
I saw his great intensity.
I stayed with him for days.
I watched his sacrificial work
I saw his humble ways.

He strove to write in perfect words,
expressing his rare love
for all of those who'd done him harm
from politics above.
Forgiving them of evil deeds
had given him such peace -
that each and ev'ry word he wrote
became a masterpiece.

I once decided to return -
to visit one last time.
The old and lonely poet, though,
had written his last rhyme.
The years have passed.  Such great respect
I had for that old man.
Could I improve my poetry
for God?  He proved I can!

©2015 louis gander / ganderpoems.org

Copyright © louis gander | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

Jack The Quack

Timothy Hicks recently suggested I write one called “Jack the Quack” Who better than the quacker himself Who's wheels have left the track I've never professed to be poet In the ilk of Browning and Keats A rebel, a renegade, a enigma of sorts Marching to a different beat A bit of a “quacker” I've always been Take pride in being off beat Don't have a choice, it's who I am Travelling down a different street Always write in the purest of forms Simple quatrains most of the time Since a very young age, always thought Of poetry as a needing to rhyme Forever been one to revel in creativity Searching brand new vistas each day It sure turns my crank and floats my boat Wouldn't be happy any other way Thank you Timothy for the inspiration To express what makes me tick We're all cut from the very same cloth Till we find a pathway that clicks © Jack Ellison 2013 Timothy suggested I write this one appealing to the kiddies along the lines of "Howard The Mallard"... I chose a different route!

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Eyes Gaze

When the sun cast pastel colors
On the far eastern horizon
Like kisses exchanged between lovers
Drawing me as the scent of spring
Lures the honeybee to come taste
Notebook, pen, dictionary bring
To porch, ears tuned, eyes gaze__no haste  

Sponsor: Carol Sunshine Brown
Contest: Who, What, Where
Form: Saraband(one tercet plus one quatrain)
Rhyme Scheme:A,X,A...B,C,B,C
The form not listed so put under Quatrain

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |


Limited in choices of writing creative topics of poetry,
I only want to write about some sort of painful misery,
Lost love or I am not a thought in a mans new mind,
For I do not know how to write any other type or kind.

I pump out a limerick and rhyme here and there,
Only to write poems that reflect my lack of flair,
For I do not have many hobbies or interests too,
But I will keep posting my limitedness for you.

Copyright © Dawn Gordon | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

About Poetry

If I am sad or when I’m hurt,
I write to let the anger out;
It helps to get it off my chest -
I find it’s better than to shout.

And when I lose my head or heart,
I write the words I cannot say;
A secret crush, a racing pulse -
It keeps me going anyway!

For Russell’s Poetry About Poetry contest, 14th January

Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Quick Draw

With the challenge of writing a poem in the now I reach for my pen, a lightning quick draw Gun slinging the page with a six shooter of words Letters ricocheting off of the page, escaping the poems claw Defeating all who dare to challenge my ink shooter Walking tall in Poetry soup's Wild West Poets work, slinging words left and right We enter contest, to conquer and be the best Today I'll spur the paper with cowboy up Put my words down with the quickness Winning the buckle of Glory Riding this bull named "dirty business" I'm riding off into the sunset another notch in my belt The legend of the "Word Slinger" has begun Conquering all from the east to the west Riding in glory, clearing the dust second to none ------------------------------------------------------------------ Inspired by Matt caliri contest - Write now- took me 30 minutes to write and type 8-19-09 had lots of fun!!!!!!!!!! purely fictional :-)

Copyright © Abe Lopez | Year Posted 2009

Details | Quatrain |


My Pen Drips Of Sorrow And On This Paper,
I Write Each Tear.

He never told her of the love,
He held within his heart.
Though he knew she longed to hear it,
He just could not impart,

The feelings that he had for her,
Although she was his bride.
It seemed to her that if he cared,
His love he would not hide;

And so it went through all their years,
They drifted slow apart,
Lonely, sad and unfulfilled,
They each had broken hearts.

                                          Judy Ball

Aug.13,2011  For Just Write Contest by Constance LaFrance

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

Freeing Up My Mind

So many words competing.
Floating around in my brain.
Jumbled word of nonsense.
Waiting to be ascertained.

Unscrambling words unsought.
Emotions not yet explained.
Words need to be released.
Feelings I can no longer retain.

Writing my thoughts into verses.
Freeing me from mental fatigue.
Provoking responses in others.
Penning tales of intrigue.

Writing is the essence of my soul
Conveying my manifestations,
From drama to laughter, even tears.
Bringing me total satisfaction.


For Russell Sivey's contest, "Poetry About Poetry"

Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

In Defense of my Romantic Poetry

I’m a hopeless romantic
Now please cut me some slack
Yes, there’s more to this life
Than love’s beaten track

I just can’t write about fish
And I can’t write of the farm
I can’t write about frogs
For me that holds not a charm

I can’t write about wars
And I can’t write about keys
I can’t write of history
Go easy on me, please!

Yes, I guess I’m limited
Stuck in mediocrity
I’m trying to be diverse
It falls flat, can’t you see? 

So I write tales of love
And I write about passion
Can’t write about trends
Or the latest fashion

I write about suicide
And I write of addiction
I write about my life
Not some sort of fiction

I write about my daughter
And I write about hubby
I write how much I suffer
To be thin and not chubby

I write about God
And I write about heaven
But can’t write about 9
Much less about seven

So please hear what I say
What you all write is grand
It’s just not my way
I’m stuck in love’s brand

I’m cheesy, I’m sappy, 
Dripping with goo and such
But this hopeless romantic
Loves your poems so much!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

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 |

What Should I Write

WHAT SHOULD I WRITE! Oops, sorry to shout It's been happening lately I'm losing my clout It once was a breeze Writing one after t'other Out they'd all pour In rhymes I did smother Then hit a brick wall Broke my head bone for sure My mind got all fuzzy Felt quite insecure Babbling in gibberish Bout the craziest of things Of goulies and stuff My mind's in a sling If you have some ideas Please pass them along I'll pay you big dollars Might sing you a song Cathie says folks Better turn down your tuner He's a lovable guy But he sure ain't no crooner WHAT SHOULD I WRITE! © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Nature Excuse Me

Excuse me to dissapear and appear
When I long for her
Permit me to take her
Higher to the sky into the star

Excuse me to occupy health
Empowered with strength
To run over mountain heights
And fend roses of the earth

Excuse me to possess wings
To fly accross the globe rings
And acquire valuables
To tell her she is adorable

Excuse me nature to the rines
Help me to sink into the mines
To bring her gold
That she will forever hold

Excuse me longitivity
Endow me with precinus immortality
Then I will see her face forever
To sit beside her till the world is over

Copyright © Olorunsogo David | Year Posted 2013