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Quatrain Metaphor Poems | Quatrain Poems About Metaphor

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

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Details | Quatrain |

Yellow Shoes in the Darkness

Walking through the land of shadows 
wearing my yellow shoes
With each and every step
I created color and hues

The shadows started retreating
As color permeated the ground
Out of the shadowy darkness
I heard a horrible sound

"You do not belong here
I command you to go away
You are in the land of darkness
You must listen to what I say"

I kept on moving forward
Not sure what I would see
Where was the voice coming from
I looked behind a tree

Light and color expanded
Traveling up straight to the skies
The entity that so scared me
Was right before my eyes

As my shoes banished the darkness
The entity was reduced to tears
Without the aid of shadows
He couldn't tap into my fears

I then reached down to touch him
I told him that he was safe
He looked up with confusion
As I gazed upon his face

"Are you here to destroy me?
Have you come to take me away?
There is a purpose for shadows
They create hope for brighter days."

I heard what he was saying
The shadows have their reason
In order for spring to come
We need a darker season

So I removed my yellow shoes
Watched as the shadows returned
It was time for me to go home
With this strange lesson I had learned








Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013


Details | Quatrain |

Irish Nectar of the Sun Goddess

Irish Nectar of the Sun Goddess

This mystical aura of golden radiant sunbeams so sublime
With a warm mead laying lovely below its enchanted neck,
Is breathless releasing gasps of white-hot-fire breaths now, 
All spiritual within one and a thousand sighs, it whistles too.

Brightly your radiance shines through the deep blue oceans
Where rainbows are misted with shades inside a desire born,
With curtains falling—revealing a beauty spot held precious,
Whilst in your heart glows warmly a true love priceless pure.

A royal crown bestoweth upon thine mantel of soft ‘n purest silk,
Now spangled as dewdrops glisten brightest on mirrored slippers,
As a divine swan upon one wave began dancing on joyous ripples,
An old Irish jig played on in this moment dancing you and I, as two.

The Merry Old Leprechaun looked on with his wee-soft eye twinkle  
As the Sun Goddess giveth her divine breath to this sacred harvest; 
Now to beareth the sweetest of fruit with warmest rays of gentleness,
So all can shareth this grandest garden moment of holy eternal glory.

We all shall now, forever and ever, prosper in this heavenly abundance
Whilst we sheddeth a most wee-curious light into this eternal paradise,
As you and I, and the Merry Old Leprechaun shareth a passion so true,
We drinketh gladly the sweet ‘n stout Irish Nectar of the Sun Goddess!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (January 17, 2017) 
(Quatrain)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

Life Unpainted - Collaboration with Chris Green

I painted a desert in shades of my past Muted in worry and tears Granules of sand through a cracked hourglass Falling in spite of the fears A range of grey mountains all covered in snow Cold like my feelings inside Bordered the desert where nothing would grow Disguised the volcano I hide Arid reflections of times long before Searing the pain to the bone Lost in a dune now forfeiting the shore Sinking head first and alone Painful and clearly my brush strokes unveiled hidden tears, years of neglect Slowly emerging in painting, detailed, hurt I could never connect Shadows in beige blending in with the scene heated emotions that bleed Tell me, I’m pleading what does this all mean merely an answer I need I painted emotions in shades of my life crafting subconscious relief. Not understanding how my palet knife changed my despair to belief Landscapes of sorrow in off canvas glaze Gather my colors to be Filled with the beauty of soon to come days Waiting unpainted for me *** Augustus 26, 2017 Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017


Details | Quatrain |

To An Injured Fox Cub - with thanks to Michael Coy

Today I found you cornered, drenched in cold,
your fur coat nothing but a newborn's down,
a tiny ball unfolding while I hold
you shivering. Your lacerations frown

and at a distance, I can see the why
of your abandonment, the birds of prey.
I’ve saved you, but you’re causing me to cry:
serrated weapons, Nature’s passion-play,

as blood-attracted sharks, still circling, wait:
I sense the breath-starved fright that made you flee,
those teeth, those claws, you were their blameless bait.
You can’t yet comprehend that you are free.

I see the wounds, some healed, some raw and new,
they're deep, beyond the matted fur and skin.
Four little paws, so tender, sprawled askew,
I seem to feel that you and I are kin.

You mark each move. Mistrustful eyes, so green,
incapable of rest, stir to suggest
you'll try to bite if I will try to clean
the bloodclots, so I hug you to my chest.

You flinch to feel my cuddle. Have I planned
some fiendish way to torture you anew?
The tiny space your wretched life has spanned
has taught you only suffering is your due.

Careful now, I’ll wrap you in a cloth,
And whisper words you cannot comprehend.
Oh tiny one, you're no more than a moth!
It’s alright now. You’ve come across a friend.

Your warmth is blossoming against my breast.
I want to teach you gentleness and calm.
There’s nothing here to threaten you: so rest,
You’re safe now from anxiety and harm.

I'll guard you through the night until you sleep,
until the chesty wheezing eases up.
This is protectiveness, it's seated deep:
I’ll always help a vulnerable pup.

Your heart is racing hard against my hand,
awaiting pain, as wizened captives do.
Believe me, Little One, I understand.
For I have been a broken prisoner, too.

***

May 30, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

You Reap What You Sow

If you sow seeds of kindness,
Then kindness is what you'll reap.
If you sow seeds of forgiveness,
You'll reap untroubled sleep.

If you sow seeds of anger,
of hatred or discontent,
You'll reap a crop of violence,
Discord and evil intent.

If you sow seeds of brotherly love,
Then love you will receive,
But if wickedness is what you sow,
Then wicked you will be.

The lesson here is pretty clear:
You reap just what you sow.
Therefore, strive to sow only good seeds,
And spread them wherever you go.

2/13/13
Kim Merryman
For SandyIvy's Seed contest

Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Let Me Go

You have caged me for too long
I want you to just let me go,
I have to spread these feathered wings
I need to feel the wind's blow.

You know that I love you truly
I said that I would never leave,
I want to see the rain's dance
Not just sit here and perceive.

The scene never changes, day after day
I want to go where white roses bloom,
I have never seen an ocean's wave
And neither have you, I assume.

I need to see the autumn tree's change
I want to see the snowflake's glisten,
I am wishing on the stars as they fall
This is my dream, so please just listen.

I want to fly in the sky's blue
I need to feel the sun's burn,
When I have experienced these wonders
I promise that I will return.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Kaleidoscope Dreams

Green…you always reflected in my peripheral
And kept watch as I tried to color my world
But there I lay in my blacks and my blues,
lifeless and faltering In monotone hues.

Through kaleidoscope eyes, I envisioned my skies
But the pot at the rainbow was storybook lies
so with nothing to gain and nothing to lose,
I just shuffled around In my blacks and my blues.

Never did I imagine you!, Green… to be my savior
But there you arose, out of my dark abyss
With your bottle green dress and scarlet kiss
Your emerald  green eyes and unbridled bliss.

Now my kaleidoscope dreams have all been unfurled
Since you Green, have colored my world
You rescued my heart, Green
You rescued my heart.

Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Animal of the Night

Animal of the Night

The animal of the night has an evil courage as its defense,
And with simple lies it now catches the filthy beast easily,
And can now stand and bask in God’s purest of sunshine,
Whilst valor and glory speak all power to one’s destiny!

Darkness doth now pervade and drinks slowly from that
“Chalice of the Faithless Heathen” who hides among the
Soulless Ones who are consumed by their hateful actions,
And spit thoughtlessly at your good will and human pride!

Hades’ very own dark demons tilt their evil night shades
While justifying the hurt and depravity of an “Ugly Brute”;
A truly lost soul without any mercy, blind—as “He” throws
Freely a nasty spiteful spirit on your earthly fire of reality!

Hence, Hades’ mark and mask of utter darkness and terror
Descend now into the very conscience of your Spirit World;
Burning hot with the force of “The Furies” seeking revenge:
Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto all appear sans Merci now!

As their eternal gorgonesque spirits creep upon you furtively,
Your once handsome visage turns into a sad and horrid portrait
Of an old animal soul in the mirror never to see the Light again,
As clouds darkly shade your horizon and fate in Hades’ name!

In this eternal land of darkness, the dead do not suffer this fate
So easily, and cast not without honor in their chains the notion
That fear itself, vice destiny, cries out now for your forgiveness,
As One-Eyed Beggars seek and see the basic good within you!

Each day now fades into its own doom, into a dark mist of evil,
And hides carefully inside a “Mountain of Consciousness” where
Your ethereal spirit knows who you really are—as black snakes
slither slowly and silently toward your spirit-mirrored reflection!

You—that “Animal of the Night,” wear now your deceptive mask;
The reality of who and what you really are makes my skin crawl!
You can never return from this darkest “Pit of Hell” my old friend,
For thy animal-human spirit is doomed to all this darkness forever!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 22, 2015 
(Narrative Quatrain)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Animal of the Night

The animal of the night has an evil courage as its defense,
And with simple lies it now catches the filthy beast easily,
And can now stand and bask in God’s purest of sunshine,
Whilst valor and glory speak all power to one’s destiny!

Darkness doth now pervade and drinks slowly from that
“Chalice of the Faithless Heathen” who hides among the
Soulless Ones who are consumed by their hateful actions,
And spit thoughtlessly at your good will and human pride!

Hades’ very own dark demons tilt their evil night shades
While justifying the hurt and depravity of an “Ugly Brute”;
A truly lost soul without any mercy, blind—as “He” throws
Freely a nasty spiteful spirit on your earthly fire of reality!

Hence, Hades’ mark and mask of utter darkness and terror
Descend now into the very conscience of your Spirit World;
Burning hot with the force of “The Furies” seeking revenge:
Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto all appear sans Merci now!

As their eternal gorgonesque spirits creep upon you furtively,
Your once handsome visage turns into a sad and horrid portrait
Of an old animal soul in the mirror never to see the Light again,
As clouds darkly shade your horizon and fate in Hades’ name!

In this eternal land of darkness, the dead do not suffer this fate
So easily, and cast not without honor in their chains the notion
That fear itself, vice destiny, cries out now for your forgiveness,
As One-Eyed Beggars seek and see the basic good within you!

Each day now fades into its own doom, into a dark mist of evil,
And hides carefully inside a “Mountain of Consciousness” where
Your ethereal spirit knows who you really are—as black snakes
slither slowly and silently toward your spirit-mirrored reflection!

You—that “Animal of the Night,” wear now your deceptive mask;
The reality of who and what you really are makes my skin crawl!
You can never return from this darkest “Pit of Hell” my old friend,
For thy animal-human spirit is doomed to all this darkness forever!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 22, 2015 
(Narrative Quatrain)

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Grow

A dream can grow in the darkest places,
even when others lay shattered and dead,
no matter how long and twisted the roots,
dreams can still grow when tears are shed.

It will flower out of the muddy ground,
no matter how impossible it may seem,
and vine and wind around the stoney paths,
as it flourishes to chase the sunbeam.

A dream can grow from almost anywhere,
stunted only by what imagination can feed,
the vision becomes planted deep in the mind,
and will live when your heart is the seed.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

The Welfare Poem

The welfare poem is not for you
and not enough for anyone.
The welfare poem is very small
and not just given to everyone.

It's not enough to read for long.
It's just a little short.
It's not paid much attention to
and not the longing sort.

With thanks there's those who'll get it.
Those of who deserve it.
It's just some stolen words,
though I would soon forget it.

It's filled with much disgrace.
Those wary as they read.
It may be meant for you
if you accept the need.

I hope you have enjoyed it.
I'll cut you off for now.
But if you want more later
just beg there's more somehow.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

White wolf, I bleed for you

Once upon a time
Distant memories 
Dawning of morning crystals
Glittering reminder of starlight tears
 
In sunbeam's brilliance
Lighting jewels shine
Songbirds break into chorus
The smallest fragment of a breeze alerts
 
The senses whistling
Melodies explode
Through the branches leaves lament
Observing nature's space hold in colors
 
Fruit of tenderness
Mellow your sunshine
Blossoms love supreme touching
Fingers raise deep golden feelings yearning
 
Addresses one's heart
Lonely dust remains
Breathing breathless light explores
In darkness echoes bounce off deep caverns
 
Cold howling shivers
Devouring warm blood
Into the bones whistling ice
Winds voice of the lost souls' eyes turn bright green
 
As the spirit leaves
Dark moldy shadows
Light of moon sources cravings
Beauties kiss eclipses rose bleeds scarlet
 
Immortal heartbeats
Life stops ticking bang
Seduced black velvet pleasure
Sinking fangs into the succumbing heart
 
Drum beats slow echo
Fallen unchained truths
Slithering lizards crawling
Underneath the skin a beastly vision
 
Storm roars through timbers
Translucent blood slime
Flowing toxic energy
Mutating hollers screech into wolf moon
 
Scalding hot flames breathe
When red embers burn
Into the lustful ashes
Born inside scarred remains breathing wounds
 
An itch that scratches
Onto the mindset
Greenish cornea expands
Opening curtains in a split second
 
Haunting prey on light
Affliction of need
Rasping rattle in the throat
Death yowls airless scream without sun visions


A Collaborated Poem with Liam McDaid and Angeline Lim

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

Echo

Many voices from the past,
Always echoing in my head,
How long can it last,
I thought you were dead.

You always tell me what to do,
So I don't make a mistake,
Somehow you always knew,
How many I could make.

Because once I hurt you,
And you'll never let me forget,
But what can I do,
You're not quite dead yet.

Why won't you leave me alone,
Will you never forgive me,
I wish I could atone,
Please, just let me be.

The hollow echo of your voice,
Will linger on forever,
You've given me no choice,
It'll never stop, ever.

The sound of you used to make me smile,
But now it tortures me,
I will always be in denial,
So an end I'll never see.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Walking Away


Walking Away


I live in the shell of my body,
   though it houses me very well,
      I can walk to my deep secret places...
         and when I'm there, no one can tell.

In this shell, I am the ruler,
   always coming and going at will,
      wandering far to the ocean
         or top of a green, grassy hill.

Away to my playground of words...
   for minutes or hours, I may hide.
      While my shell is busy at living,
         I am walking away deep inside.

I'm walking away to follow
   wherever great words lead me to,
      and then, from those deep secret places,
          I will bring back a poem or two.

Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: Walking Away
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 12/16/2015

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

The Door

Noah’s ark was real not a fiction
It had a door to escape God’s affliction
Noah delivered a warning message
But the folks mock their own presage

Men grew in sin and matured in transgression
And ignored Noah’s loving confession
The Door stood open a long time
Until time begin to climb

The Lord finally shut the Door
And the rain begin to pour
120 years of grace finally came to a halt
God administered judgment by default

The Door was a glorious type of Christ
He was the Lamb of God who was price
Jesus said “I am the Door of the sheep”
He is the only Door of that Great ship

Jesus is our Door of salvation
Wherein we enter and float as new creation
Behold He stands at your door this day and knock
Let Him in, you’ll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock

Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7

Copyright © Gideon Foli | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Beyond Salvage

An old herbal gard’ner turned bard
dedicated and well-versed
now works his pen from his backyard
in plants and poems immersed.

His choice nouns engender meaning
cleverly minted with scents.
Rare verbs gingerly gleaning
from time’s savory essence.

Somewhat focused on composing
but nettled by a drizzle;
unexpected down-hosing
causes his brain to fizzle.

Lo! His inspiration now gone
like the ink upon his page.
Mrs. Bard calls from the lawn
“I just watered the sage.”

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2012

Details | Quatrain |

Erkenntnis

Erkenntnis
 
Stillness
A thought
Knowledge
Peace

Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 22, 2017 (Quatrain)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
this flower bed,
is just for you.

Among the stone,
and in the mud,
a flower shone,
a beautiful bud.

It grew so tall,
proud and strong,
it learned all,
right and wrong.

Giving it water,
and warm sun,
your only daughter,
learned about fun.

Mommy come see,
look what I did,
now I can be,
a grownup kid.

This flower bed,
is just for you,
with roses, red,
and violets, blue.




Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Rainbow

Struggles and success, Sufferings and happiness, Dreams and Goals building to life; Like colours of the rainbow making light.
A blessed day for you my dear readers :) Cheer Up, God bless

Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

The Butterfly Emerges

From the dark cocoon, the butterfly emerges,
Finally realizing she cannot control her urges,
To witness the beauty of the midnight moon,
The butterfly emerges, from the dark cocoon.

She flew from the shadows, out into the daylight,
The colors on her wings had never shone so bright,
She was meant to be here, her brave heart knows,
Out into the daylight, she flew from the shadows.

No more sitting alone, back in her little room,
No more hiding in dampness, darkness and gloom,
She had finally found a friend to call her own,
Back in her little room, no more sitting alone.







Andrea Dietrich's contest - "Swap Quatrains. Let's See What You've Got!"

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Swimming Lessons

A test of the water,
A dip of my toe.
Undeniably chilly,
But bearably so.

Before I can swim,
I must get undressed.
I’ll start with my shirt,
And then all the rest.

I’ll glance about shyly,
Then just take the dive.
Returning for air,
Now I’m feeling alive.

This is how poetry
Ever will be.
A definite risk,
But a way to be free.

I show to the world,
What others won’t bare.
My vulnerable soul,
Under scrupulous glare.

Just as the clear water,
A feeble veil makes.
So scarcely can prose
Conceal life’s mistakes.

So under some metaphor
Or in simile
If you are looking,
You’ll find naked me.

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Starlight

Starlight

Heaven’s light source pure
Radiated light-years beyond
Man’s conscious knowledge
And cosmic understanding.

Various brilliant streetlights
Of the universe charting
Courses through stretches 
Of eternal darkness deep.

God keeps this Starlight
True to his very word
For when darkness wins
The keys of enlightenment

Fall prisoner to Lucifer
Who controls them for
His advantage over Man
At odds always with God.

Starlight reflects the way
For mankind’s quest in
Seeking ethereal guidance
And spiritual illumination.

This heavenly pure light
Keeps mankind on track
Despite Lucifer’s intrigues
To do just the opposite.

Man’s Earth time is short
And his date with destiny
Finds his fate held in the
Balance of God’s Hands.

But there is always the
Chance to ask God for
His advice and help—then
Waiting for the answer.

And God’s answer is
Coming in different ways
And—at the end, Salvation
Is granted by the act of God.

Being in God’s arms and
Looking back the way Man
Came reflects that everything
Was part of God’s divine purpose.

God’s grace and protection
On each and every one of the
Stones on the way and back
Was part of God’s divine plan.

At the end it turns out that
Everything was planned
From the very beginning
By you and God together.

The godly part created in
Man is the divine guidance
Which brings everybody
Back into the arms of God.

Now being in conscious awareness
Of God’s plans and creation,
Man can enjoy with inner peace the
Starlight—Heaven’s light source!

Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman, 
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, 
(January 30, 2015) (Unrhymed Quatrain)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Le Mot Juste

Le Mot Juste

The right word indeed is what we poets always seek
As we use our imaginations in finding and identifying
A theme of interest and one that allows us to work and
To weave a tapestry of poetic virtue and enchantment.

The right word for the sake of poetic discussion can be
A singular word, two or three words, or even a group of
Words; yet it is how the word or words are placed in
Verses which account for proper emphasis and nuance. 

The right word gives us that certain image or metaphor
So necessary as we dexterously process artistic thoughts
Which meld into verses conveying a wondrous message
To our readers yearning for the magic that poetry brings.

The right word often sets the tone and tenor of each verse
And as we consider the desired effect of each verse as it
Flows and follows or interlocks with the other verses in 
A poem—the tone and tenor attributes are quite important.

Using the right word impacts what we say and how we say
It and how our poetic thoughts may or may not be correctly
Understood, which means “Words Count” always—and we
Poets should consider their effect in portraying our message.

Le Mot Juste in the French language very exquisitely means
“The Right Word” and seemed appropriate as the title for this 
Poem to emphasize the critical nature of using the right word
As we poets seek to make our thoughts known to the public. 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – April 28, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)

*The poem appears in my new poetry book with a release date of
February 3, 2015.

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

PAINTING LIFE

You have led me     beside the azure seas
to see the crimson coral     of the fallen leaves
so like the rainbows      that exist within our kin
the colors that lay      upon our souls within
 
There drifts our souls       in  the shades and hue
where we slip the streams       of the colors blue
or light their soul      in softest shades of yellow
when in company as       delighted companions fellow
 
Or quietly lay in shells      still and tinged of pale grey
like the clouds that hang         within the low of day
or to climb the hills      the foliage with its glistening sheen
are painted trees and meadows      in the depths of green
 
Here in life the blooms         that every spectrum see
and offered us its view      the veneer of  eternity
and not so transparent          the crystals of our glass
and our lives the shadows           of pigments cast
 
The cosmetic gloss         that we can wear like makeup
that dyes the actions     which our souls we take up
some like varnish     are just cover for what is dull
like the iron and the steel     that contains our hull
 
But the tints     that wash and stain our soil
can be the colors    swirling within the gleams of oil
where they run together    as the eddy's in the water
there each soul its    colors is contained a single star   

COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Chasing Shadows

An old sundial, awaits
Sol's kiss, of glistening gold.
And aligned, with the north star,
its gnomon, stabs at the cold.

Tarnished, and weather-beaten,
it waits, for day to come back.
And stands, in pools of darkness,
dripping drops, of liquid black.

The sun, crests the horizon,
finally free, from night’s clutch.
And, its light strikes the dial,
gilding it, with its touch.

Tethered, to its brass face,
time, is subject to its whim.
And, silently creeps along,
chasing shadows, at its rim.

It radiates, like magic,
with, a luminescent glow.
And, displays the time of day,
as long, as the clouds don't show.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

Behold My Pen

Behold my pen
that writes and scribbles
and bleeds blue ink
in drips and dribbles.

That crosses paper
in bites and nibbles
and weighs my thoughts
in spite of quibbles.

Words as strange as
this and then.
Letters and numbers
like S and 10.

Thoughts and feelings
I've had before.
Memories waiting
the pen to bore.

Lines as long
as stretching can.
Jots and jolts
where each began.

Loving strokes
to those I send.
Messages made
that they might blend.

All these meanings
from the heart.
Behold my pen.
Their only art.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Reluctant To Climb

Diogenes, sought an honest man,
appalled by Man’s path to destruction.
And searched Athens by lantern, each day, 
yet, found only lies and corruption.

He announced that his search was fruitless,
integrity, was easily bought.
And Man’s willingness to sell His soul,
meant an honest man, was vainly sought.

When the hungry specter of greed feeds,
its appetite, offers no relief.
And circumvents inconvenient truths, 
under guise, of popular belief. 

Man's conscience, can discern right from wrong,
yet, His morals have slipped over time.
And after having fallen so far,
He’s frightened, and reluctant to climb.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Infinity

Infinity's forever,
it's an impossible quest.
And, like an endless journey,
it's eternity, expressed.

It’s alpha and omega,
the beginning and the end.
And, so immeasurable,
that truth and fantasy blend.

It's, an imaginary
goal, we can never achieve.
For, it's unfathomable,
beyond our minds, to conceive.

A ceaseless progression, of
possibilities, of more.
And, a vague destination,
like a room, without a door.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Behind A Veneer

Despondent, she stares in the mirror,
hoping to see, the girl of her youth.
Yet years of tears, have weathered her skin,
and the sun’s harsh light, confirms the truth.

Her wrinkles, masked by a coat of paint,
she repairs, whatever is peeling.
And the false face, staring back at her,
reflects the disgust, that she’s feeling.

A touch of powder, fills in small lines,
while a hint of rouge, brings her cheeks back.
And the bags under her eyes, are smoothed, 
as mascara lashes, are brushed black.

Red lips, complete the porcelain doll,
and, all her blemishes disappear.
For once more, she transformed her image,
hiding her years, behind a veneer.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

His Love is a Red Sea

His smile is like sunlight
He moves like poetry
His voice is an Arabian night
His love is a Red Sea

Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014