Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

Quatrain Girl Poems | Quatrain Poems About Girl

These Quatrain Girl poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Girl. These are the best examples of Quatrain Girl 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.

Details | Quatrain |

Kiss the Rain

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

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

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

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

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

* Power or Force

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

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.  



Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

Daddy's Girl

She was a Daddy's girl
The apple of his eye
Somehow things change
as the years go by

His hugs and kisses
Vanished like the sun
He became serious
Instead of being fun

She wanted to be noticed
Purple hair and pierced nose
She started wearing black
From her head to her toes

He said he was leaving
A new family he had
He said not to worry
He'd always be her dad

She didn't shed a tear
As daddy walked away
Still pain needs expression
She cuts her skin each day

If you see her tatoo
It's a black broken heart
Printed with Daddy's Girl
Her life expressed through art

I wrote this one for Donna Jones
to answer some of the questions
she had about my Watch poem.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Feeding the Ducklings

A mellow day it was in my city, So I went outside to take a walk. The river by my house was so pretty I sat myself right down on a small dock. I had with me a sandwich for my lunch. Mom let me make it by myself, you see! I took it out and had begun to munch, While kicking at the water happily. Then suddenly, I heard the quack quack quack Of many ducklings I’d not even seen Before that time! For speed they did not lack. The first one had a neck and head dark green. I tore in pieces all my sandwich bread And tossed the bits to him and the others. I think we all should share, though big “Green Head” Tried to take the pieces from his brothers. That big one and the others were so cute My sandwich did not last more than a while. Then Green Head fled; the others followed suit. They left me with no lunch but with a smile! Written May 19, 2016 for Contest Closed and Judged May 30, 2016 now for the Second Chance - 4 Poetry Contest of Broken Wings/center>

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

Springtime Rose

Beside a gilded wall of white a dainty bench is resting;
Victorian accents swirl about the ornate room, providing
An elegance, a beauty in each line and curve, attesting
To cultured tastes and upscale life, and hours spent deciding
What shapes and colors best would suit the airy, springtime feeling:
But looking closely, something there upon the bench reposes,
A lady's fan and soft kid gloves, their jumbled state revealing
What hasty movements cast them all aside when fragrant roses
Arrived in state with baby's breath, and some white note, nigh hidden
In bursting blooms of rainbow hue, by unknown hands delivered:
And having noted thus, the eye could not but roam unbidden
To she who holds the rose bouquet, to she who slightly shivered
With thoughts that youths so oft imagine, thoughts that made her giddy
And blushed her cheeks the color of the rosy dress cascading
With lacy ruffles from her shoulders, looking just as pretty
As her face, which looks for all the world like roses never fading;
Two lips like shiny cherries, or the poppies that she tends to,
Complexion like a creamy rose with hints of pink surrounding
The fragile outer curling of its leaves; brown eyes that send you
A warm, quick-spreading feeling, like the first hot sunrays bounding
Thro' seas of blue to make the greengrass grow. Now look, she's taking
The little note from out among the stems; perhaps with quiet
And careful steps the message could be read; I have to try it.
"My dearest Rose, I never could imagine so befitting
A name for one who does resemble all that man finds charming
In lovely blossoms: beauty surely, grace as they are flitting
In breezes sweet of scent, and frailty, which I find disarming;
So here's a gift no prettier and sweet than you. Sincerely,
A man that loves you more than you could know.

Quatrains of decapentasyllabic verse followed by a single line of iambic pentameter.
Written by Isaiah Zerbst. Published for the first time January 26, 2015.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

My Heart is Set

My heart is set in love for thee
I sha'nt be satisfied
Until thou come along with me
The swells of life to ride

My heart is set upon thy face
So lovely, so sublime
Could I but drink thy charming grace
'Twould end my earthly time

My heart is fixed on that of thee
I find it ever true
I would thy servant gladly be
If serve I could for you

My heart is fixed upon thy voice
With silver tones and clear
To hear it oft would be my choice
Throughout my ev'ry year

My heart is set upon thy smile
Upon thy sparkling eyes
For thee I'd walk the extra mile
And comfort all thy sighs

In all, my heart is wholly placed
Within thy tender hands
To hold or break as well thou say'st
Upon life's shifting sands


 ~ metre- ABAB rhyme- Iambic rhythm ~

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Diner Girl

She's a diner girl
A trucker's fantasy
A little bit tough
While being sexy

Sure she likes to flirt
A tool of her trade
She has them dreaming
Thinking they'll get laid

The tips all add up
For dreams of her own
When her shift's over
She goes home alone

You think you know her
She plays the part well
Your glimpse of heaven 
Her personal hell

Her expectations
Are grander than this
She desires more
Than a truckers kiss

Nothing can stop her
Or get in her way
The World needs dreamers
Who dream better days

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Cover Girl

In your photograph, I see your face,
As does the entire world.
Do they see what lies beyond,
Inside, that little girl?
As I look into your eyes
I sense you dream, you hope.
I pray each time I gaze at them
For days that you can cope.
In your smile, I see reality
Has contributed to your view.
Two dimensional image we see,
But never, the real you.
There’s more to you than meets the eye,
the readers should all know.
But, they will only ever see
That which you will only show.
I looked upon your photo today
And saw the beauty in you.
If others ever dare to see,
Then they will love you, too.

Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2008

Details | Quatrain |



Peering at her as she sleeps,
nearing tiers of the devout...

Smearing pleas on the glass as he peeps,
impotent, from the grass. He's about

to unfold the silk memoir he keeps,

and lovingly smooth it out.


Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

The Dance Hall Girl

I'm standing here in limbo as 

I see him wander in.

That no townsman has warned him

is truly a mortal sin.


He slides up to the bar and 

takes a curious look around.

He orders a shot of whiskey.

No one else has made a sound.

The barman just ignores him 

as he has the others here,

and keeps on mopping up the bar

as I try to wipe a tear.

I still have strong emotions

with no way to express them.

I don't know about the others.

They all look like wooden chess men.

When that dying gunman hexed us

with that evil, malevolent curse,

he didn't doom us all to death's call

but with something even worse.

He said we'd stay almost forever,

exactly as we were right then,

until some day, some one would free us.

But he didn't tell us when.

I'm a dance hall girl who hasn't danced

for lo these many years.

I just stay as frightened as I was then

as I try to wipe my tears.

I see the stranger stiffen

as he searches for some cash.

He'll reach for it forever.

The spell has hit him in a flash.

So I know he's not the one

who can break the wicked spell.

We'll keep doing what we're doing,

but I guess its just as well.

For the only one who'll walk out

of this doomed saloon alive,

is the hombre who can break the spell

that keeps us in this dive.

When the spell has been broken 

we will all be turned to dust,

and be blown to Earth's corners

with the wind's first heavy gust.

For town of Rotgut contest.

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Pretty Talker Contest

School Dazed at Princess High

She was such a pretty talker
Yet she was still my frenemy
The lies she spoke were convincing
She dished a lot of dirt on me

Each of my buds they believed her
Blue eyes and a beautiful face
I tried to limit the damage
Instead I became a disgrace

Her mean words she wrapped in flowers
Soft petals slipping off her tongue
Barbed words she concealed in colours
Each sylable she said really stung

None of them could see her ugly
Until she turned her words on them
As each of them started to notice
They wished to be my friend again

The girl she learned all about Karma
A verbal punch disguised with a smile
Knocked down from the perch of a princess
Kids much prefer substance over style

If you're acquainted with a pretty talker
It's really best that you stay away
No reason to become a target
Don't take part in the games that they play

For SKAT's Pretty Talker Contest

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

No Place For An Eagle

Unable to grasp the the context
Despite her greatest resolve
The Queen Bee frowns at her, vexed
Into the background my girl dissolves

Hive order is a nasty one
Mean girls, stingers in back
Each social stratum is hard-won
Her skills of nuance do lack

Their fell dance she does not get
Not made to bow to throne
Forever on the outside, yet
Safe, hidden, and alone

From lonely heights she sees
Hot updraft carries higher
Her mind flowing with an ease
Than the hive could never aspire

So safe, but wishes she weren’t
Within abides crimson yearning
Others to share the current
While below, vanities burning

© Thomas W. Quigley
For my Daughter, who shares the family "gift"--
The mixed blessing of an independent mind,
and its social challenges.
For further elaboration, see my poem "Of Asses and Burgers"

Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

Remembrances of a Girl Raised on Radio

A child of the 60’s, I was raised on radio.
Times were changing, and it was a great time to live,
for the songs made you want to be good to yourself,
be happy to love and be happy to give!

By ‘69, with cosmetics I played.
The eyes of a woman from that decade were a sight!
Our lashes were  long, dark and so thick,
our lips pink and frosty; our mini-skirts tight.

In my fourteenth summer, one warm southern night
I dated a man with a positive touch.
The saying “Why can’t this night go on forever”
turns  real once you love somebody so much!

The man I was crazy for lived far away,
and the year 1970 soon came along.
“Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.”
I sighed as I listened to James Taylor’s song.

A girl can’t help it when so young and in love.
All the radio‘s sad songs made me feel blue.
To the man who had jilted me, I’d  learn to say,
“It could have been you, but I’ll be fine without you!”

written Sept. 16, 2015 based on Album #2
 in the ALBUM TRACKS TELL STORIES poetry contest of James Fraser.
TRACKS: Girl Can`t help it, Postive Touch, Suzanne, Be Good to Yourself, Once You Love Somebody, Happy to Give, Raised on Radio, I`ll be Alright Without You, It Could have been You, The Eyes of a Woman, Why Can't this Night Go on Forever

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Nehru Pizza

It was a bigly time ago.
I was rock and rolling.
The guys wore gel or mop-top beads;
The girls were cool strolling.

Asking for her time, forthrightly,
Permissions all obtained.
A friendly double date, indeed,
In stylish dress, constrained.

Hands held, nervous knees, butterfly
Bellies and Summer Sun.
Zombie kids shuffling to their doom
With cold-foot pizza fun.

Names all changed to insure the past:
Pete and Prue ate like hogs.
Joe loved June with all of his heart --
Until the girls shrieked, "frogs!"

Joe chased Pete around the table,
Marinara splattered.
Napkins called an encore order.
June and Prue both flattered.

Joe and Pete were at it, again.
Girls with sticky-face smiles.
We settled down and sauntered home.
A night of teasing trials.

Just before parting, Joe kissed June --
So ... unsymmetrical:
He was cloud-sailing, upside down.
June smelled boy chemical.

July 14, 2016
Pink Domino - Poetry Contest

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

You Go Girl

I know of this gal who's started a diet I wish her much luck in her quest Can't mention her name, she'd be upset But accepts this challenge with zest We know how difficult diets can be One of the hardest things to accomplish But this gal can do it if anyone can Her ultimate success is my wish Once a successful real estate agent Accomplishing that a great feat So losing some pounds should be a snap A lead pipe cinch to complete There are many others in need a boost To start them on their way to skinny An incentive helps to spur them on So once more they can wear a size “mini” Good luck to her and all you others Who've grabbed the bull by the horns The prize at the end is so darn rewarding To wake up feeling great every morn! © Jack Ellison 2013

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Fairy Queen

When first you beamed upon my sight,
A cold breeze felt in desert night,
And where could I see a fairy queen,
In a earthly heaven , did I mean

At last this day your thoughts forth came,
That made it clear to call your name,
And the name I guessed is fairy queen,
So the girl you are, never seen, 

To touch and feel the morning dew,
Though the words are less, a very few,
And beauty is not what we see but feel,
Albeit we crave always the things conceal,

Sentiments stirred up seeing your saccharine smile,
That made my glint much worthwhile,
A deep undulation felt in asleep heart,
Made it understand , wait for a while,
And saved your glimpse in master file,

We live once but die thrice,
If, we miss a chance to meet someone so nice.
To look upon at irresistible beauty glance,
We miss each moment, every chance,
And to adore a lass we shy,
This cause us to weep and cry,
We burn, we boil, we burst, we sigh,
But we don’t make effort and try.

Written By
Shahid Hussain
29 Aug, 15 
(Conferred & Dedicated)

Copyright © M. Shahid H. Chouhdry | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Day Dreams

All alone she sits
in the afternoon sun
day dreams fill her mind
of all that shes done

A life so fulfilled
every wish has come true
what more can she want
what more can she do

In her day dreams
she's the girl with it all
wishing it were reality
its a wish that's so tall

Copyright © Lizzy Love | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

A Train Of Dreams

Seeking both adventure and escape
a young girl is fond of skipping school.
And a case of spring-fever finds her
skirting the edge of town acting cool.

Sharp as a whip she heads for a curve
in the tracks where the train must slow down.
And with her spot well chosen she waits
behind some bushes outside of town.

Suddenly she hears the train coming
with its high pitched squeal of steel on steel.
And her heart begins beating wildly
as each clinking clank fuels her zeal.

With its wheels screeching and sparks flying
a humongous engine lumbers by.
And she looks for an open boxcar
aware that one wrong step she could die.

Racing alongside gives her a thrill
for the train is still moving quite fast.
And matching its speed she pumps her legs
with bravado not felt in the past.

Fighting fatigue she pushes onward
not letting her pain get in the way.
And chugging along its speed picks up
as a train of dreams whisks her away.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Candy Girl

She was a bag full of crazy
My silly candy girl
Combination of sweet
With long flowing curls

Completly unpredictable
A vision for my eyes
My box of Craker Jacks
Revealing special prize

I held her for a little while
I guess she wasn't mine
My passion devoured
A treat on which she dined

I wonder where she finally went
This vision from my mind
My silly candy girl
could never be defined

Written by Richard Lamoureux
I chose this on because it reminds me
of what it was like to be young.

The form is Quatrain with a twist each stanza is 8/6/6/6

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

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 |

The Rhinoceros That Roared

~The Rhinoceros That Roared~ The Wrinkled skin of the Rhinoceros Steel hard, no man can penetrate The young buck on the tourist bus Thought if he killed one, his lovers heart he could take. He wanted to be a macho man... But he was just a spoilt rich boy He took his souped up jeep out there He roared the engine of his favorite toy. The horn of the Rhino he wanted to win To give to the girl he loved, as a prize It is supposed to be an aphrodisiac But he was in for a great big surprise. He faced the Rhino in his souped up jeep The Rhino looked bored, if one can, so to speak… Pedal to the metal, head on towards the horn The wheels spun, the earth showered, the Rhino looked forlorn. The jeep roared at the Rhino, who opened his mouth up wide Just as the souped up idiot hit-and he drove on right inside The Rhino swallowed and walked away with a jaunty gate The girl he lost, he disappeared, for them it was to late… Tales are told in whispered voice still through out the land They tell of a Rhino who does strange things when his temper is fanned His eyes flash, his feet spin, a horn beeps, and more Just don’t get in front of him, because you can hear an engine roar…
©~GG~ 19/08/2012

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

Vegas Girl

She's looking good, under the Vegas lights
She's living like she doesn't have a care
Others choose, to sit alone in the dark
Vegas Girl knows that life's not always fair.

Quick with a story, she will make you smile
You'll be amazed at what flows from her mind
Walking along Las Vegas Boulevard
There's not a brighter light you will find

As I sit back and marvel, I watch and learn
How this woman can turn dark into day
It's all about, living in the moment
She has chosen to live life her own way

Sometime in life, you are dealt a bad hand
Those cards can be positively crappy
Yet Vegas girl takes one day at a time
It seems the city lights make her happy

Dedicated to a courageous friend. Vegas Girl Rocks!

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Thursdays Recalled By the Family's French Fry Girl

The number of us children growing up was eight. Each Thursday night was special, for our Dad got paid, and we would eagerly and hungrily await his bringing Henry’s fries and burgers home. Hurray! We weren’t allowed to pick and choose; we had to take two burgers each with “everything” and one bag of fries. While we grabbed our own allotment, happy to partake, Jenny scraped off from her burgers -onions she despised! Dori chewed so slowly, from her we all would steal. The baby, Theadora, just sat there and played with her food. I was strange and always made this deal: Both my burgers for two brothers’ French fries I would trade. And so the number of my French fries always came to three. Even with no burgers, I loved each Thursday night. for the Henry’s fast food and time with family. Oh, to go back to those days with loved ones in my sight!
*Henry's Hamburgers was the name of a fast food place in my hometown For Paula Swanson's "Traditions" Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

Crimson Slippers

Opening the doors to the old studio I find A playful capriole sprinted across my mind Into a sashay and a glissade I drifted back I could hear the teachers stick go tap.tap.tap Once a prestigious ballet school of great poise Filled with music as our slippers sounded with noise The mirrors are cracked and the floors dusty Rain soaked wood left the room smelling musty The charm stayed behind as if waiting for me Spotlighting a ballerina to The goddess of the sea The young girl danced flawlessly then took a bow Then sashayed off the stage without a moistened brow An old battered piano appeared across from me Bearing red ballet shoes like a crimson canopy Charm embraced her while honoring her memory As I looked into the mirror I saw that girl was me Carole Cookie Arnold 2010

Copyright © Carole Cookie Arnold | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

She was Returned

It has been many years since his daughter was lost
If he could bring her back he would at all costs
Ever since that day he has wandered and roamed
Turned his back on his family and their loving home

His life on the road left him disheveled and broke
When he thinks back to the past it leaves him in choke
Another day on his lonesome travels
A stranger he meets and their discussions unravel

This old man he has met all mysterious and dark
Told him of times going back as far as the Ark
Tales of the Templar's and Merlin the Magician
After hearing the mans story he began to begin

       "I lost my daughter a number of years ago
        She drowned whilst on holiday under a still water flow
        I couldn't comprehend the loss of her life
        The pressure of living, I left my home and my wife"

   "What would you do if your girl could be returned
    Have you ever wondered if fate could be unearned
    If this was possible, would you offer your life
    For your daughter to return to her mother your wife"

   "Remember, many years have passed her death by
    For her past to be relived, there is a reply
    Knights of the ages will descend from their dark
    They will then strike you down, as you begin your embark"
       "My life I have not lived for many a year
        For me to lose mine, I gladly volunteer
        I will die happy for all eternity
        Knowing my daughter will grow old, as it should be"

The old man chants a script of the past
Of an ancient time when fate was cast
The power of they to be able to reverse
To balance their return, they have to reimburse

   "Midnight skies will turn to purple cobalt blues
    Six Templar Knights will stand and surround you
    At your request they will strike you down
    On the sixth stroke, you will face your death gown"

   "A light will appear of which you'll travel through
    But before you do, a young girl runs to you
    Your daughter, in pink and red will run from the light
    She'll run through your soul, as your sleep starts tonight"

The old mysterious man continues on his way
As he passes a house on a hot Summers day
In the garden there sits, a daughter and mother
Discussing the loss of her father, as they begin to recover

She tells of the day whilst on holiday years ago
My husband your father, lost under a still water flow
As we comprehend the loss of his life
Leaving behind his daughter and wife


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

Tubby Girl Remembers the Glory Days of YORE

I used to sashay into a room
And see all the guys just stare
Now when I waddle in a room
I get cuddled like a bear

I reveled in the very fact 
That I was just sizzling hot
Now I feel rather lukewarm
Marilyn Monroe I am NOT!

I used to have a tiny waist
That accentuated my breast
Now there are lots of tiny rolls
That go right up to my chest

People like to touch my arms
They remind them of a pillow
And when I walk, do watch out!
My bum does jiggle like jello

Although now I am not streamlined
Unlike Angelina Jolie
I’m still happy with who I am
Cause there’s beauty inside of me

I don’t think that a woman’s meant
To be merely some skin and bones
But rather curvaciously soft
Or her pokiness will bring groans

And yet I confess to moments
When I wish I could turn back time
I want to be drop dead gorgeous
Not skinny… but full and sublime

Well, this lament is getting lame
So I'll start the exercise craze
I still want to make men go weak
So they’ll stare at me in a daze!

But Belly Dancing won’t be fun
There just won’t be enough to shake
So maybe I’ll just stay this way
And be good...for heaven’s sake!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Girl Of My Dreams

Been searching high, been searching low For a gal I could spend my life with Found one but she's got a pimply bum And real bad breath, take a whiff! She's no dreamboat, sunken ship perhaps She walks with a limp and she stutters I've just got no luck, in a quandary I'm stuck Soon be old and decrepit, and I mutter Maybe it's me that might be the problem No Adonis though at one time I thought so Just coz I dribble and spit in the street Down inside I'm really quite sweet though! Surely there's a chance that I'll find her soon They say there's a mate for all lovers I'm sure she's out there, a gal I'd be proud of Not one that has wings and can hover! © Jack Ellison 2012

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

The Red Parasol

The Red Parasol 

Into this painting, I am drawn,
     reflecting times of long ago:
a beach with shoreline of tall grass;
     two lovely girls with skirts that flow.

How do they feel on this warm day
     in their full dresses with long sleeves
beneath the sun and air so still...
     perhaps, at times, a gentle breeze.

And one with her red parasol
     to block the scorching sun a bit;
I wonder if she feels the heat
     but with her charm, just suffers it.

And there, the cooling waters wait...
     so very close, and yet so far.
It doesn't seem they are prepared
     to wade in sea off that sandbar.

They calmly sit, enjoy the beach
     take in the salty summer air.
Two lovely girls with skirts that flow...
     one 'neath red parasol...just stare.

Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Contest: The Red Parasol by Alfred Glendening
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 07/07/2016

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

The Youthful Valentine

I spotted something on the ground
A crumpled valentine
And when I picked it up I found
This valentine was mine

"Why won't she be my valentine?
She turned her face away
Come back and be my valentine
Oh please come back and stay."

But still she walked the path ahead
A glance she did not waste
I tossed away the heart of red
And ran to her in haste.

"Why won't you be my valentine?
Don't turn your face away
Come back and be my valentine
Oh please come back and stay."

"I cannot be your valentine
Because my heart could break
If all my heart were bound in thine 
Perhaps my heart you'd take."

"Oh won't you be my valentine?
Your heart I'd never break
Were all your heart bound up in mine
I ne'er your heart would take."
"So sweet you are to seek me out
So kind to understand
I did not mean to run or pout
So please accept my hand,

"Because I'll be your valentine
I'll turn no more away
Oh please do place your hand in mine
For I am here to stay."

First place entry in "Be My Valentine" contest.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | 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