Best Quartered Poems
There was a time.
There was a time
When your fabled dreams
Seemed honest
A time when
Your open arms
Coated in dented silver and tainted dreams
Understood my Size 12 shoes
When the world seemed to be against you
Yet, still,
Your blunt eloquence welcomed me home
Then, your “rainbow”…
…shat
t
er
ed
Your heartbeat became an arrhythmia of petulant theatrics.
Your topaz coated spit
Released from refilled white-out bottles,
Brushing away quartered moons of an iridescent shame
A copycat of robotic muses
Infringing upon your pedestal,
Turned loud mouth, afflicting broken tongue
The “Stalin” of a messenger’s wit,
You raised your voice to a poignant sky!!!
And, as if Yahweh cured your muted disorders,
EVERYBODY HEARD YOU!!!
Including me
That was your goal…
…excluding me
From incipient edge, I witnessed you,
A turpentine puddle in front of a confessional booth
On a melancholic Thursday morn,
With ripened glares to avoid your hallways
Tangled, dangling pacifiers as your doorbell
...
There will come a time.
There will come a time
When social feeds will deprive your vexing smile
Of validation
Where ignorant heartbeats will awaken
Through lyrical epiphanies
To see your “rainbow”
As a faded, stolen crayon
Where flirtatious dialect from withered accomplice
Licks cubic zirconium’s aftertaste
Forgetting that karma doesn’t tolerate one-night stands
For me, that time is now.
Then, I knew who you were.
Now, I know who you are.
You are not what you say.
A false advertisement in Sunday’s illiterate paper…
…with erased verbatim amongst your mirrored peers
Remembering how you falsified truth’s smile
Dire requests for empathetic warmth of our yesterdays
Yet, my Agnostic coat could never be thick enough
For your saturated, dual face
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
quartered, life, slam,
Form:
Free verse
Too long I limped along a lonely road, born into this Sahara desert of a life,
parched and hungry, face weathered and gaunt.
A deaf, dumb, and blind man, drawn and quartered by her knife,
back tarred and feathered by a vulture's taunt.
I searched the wide world for your wonderful smile,
tired soul devoid of that whole, found wanting of the other half.
Try to find the right words, after each lost and lonely mile,
my sorrows washed away by that sweet, infectious laugh.
Like hopeless romantic's lot, who climbed out of a dark place,
beyond my wildest dreams, I finally found you.
Yet daft was I to hear not., your prayer for love's embrace..
as two hearts lifted in love were bound to.
When last moon fades, no more hopeless romantics left,
and strings of sanguine hearts untwine.
I will hold on to memory's tender touch yet,
and all the warm days when you were mine.
Categories:
quartered, devotion, for her, love,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Violet
star stream
flowing
across
the
soullessness
of
mundane dream...
Whispering "everything's alright.
She's thriving like a spring fed rose in saintly gardens.
An angel brightly glowing.
...of this dream.
I staggered along a ragged path.
Through a battlefield of metal devils-called "quartered living.
Faith folding and unfolding.
Garnished with ogres slinging burning orbs of fire.
Halos of insanity...
This is when violet star sashayed in.
Soothing me
Shielding me
Her weeping rosary telling me.
That she loved and missed my heart.
Re-fastened our very being with a satin dream kiss.
That had tattered in the talon of time...
lifted me across the bloody broken battered fields.
...into the arms of forever
where the beat of pristinely only flies.
So fly my love, fly ever so softly into me.
If dreams mean anything
I know it won't be long.
till we dance the dance of butterflies.
Over green sprigs and lacy things in a warm summer wind.
In the heart pond of gilded tomorrows.
We'll gently drift about.
Make origami sunflower love.
High upon a gilded glade...
If dreams mean anything
death is just a splash
of black pebbles
in a violet starry stream....
If dreams mean anything,
Categories:
quartered, death, dedication, loss, love,
Form:
Rhyme
His bleeding heart
Was flustered from that torn parchment
In their leeching chapter
Pushed aside
As if “friendship” was aggression’s bull
Running through crowded cemeteries
Under quartered, sapphire moon
He sipped pitied shots of century-old whiskey
With a dusty glass of pomegranate w(h)ine
“Why isn’t she coming back to me?”
“My heart will make empty declarations until her return!”
As he childishly latches onto recycled yesterdays
Praying for God to give him
White picket gate’s access code
Writing lavish, debt-ridden sonatas,
In whiplashed curiosity,
On why she chose to forget him
Unbeknownst to decrepit author
That he
Could simply
Return the favor
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
quartered, feelings, lost, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
"The Flipside"
We write
our hearts out
we pull
the catch back in
slowly,
they read,
we think,
too fast
swallowed
in the hollowed out
hallowed hearts measured
ounce per ounce
we write
our hearts out
stamping footprints
obstinance turning
ourselves
inside, out
stone washing
ourselves
inside
out
written on
lines
wrung out,
expelled
pegged left
hanging
right
left
without
missives,
no doubt
on the flip side
of eternity
gravity
grounds us
toes
touch the ground
neck and face
upwards
downwards,
still life
breathing
eyes watching,
reading, waiting
the mystery
we believe,
or, we sit still
debating
the earthly
volume
a boulder
pulley drawn
backwards
forwards
backwards
in quarters
we are quartered
like poetry
we are,
washed
in clouds
inside
out,
we are
on the
flipside ;
waiting
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Categories:
quartered, muse, poetry,
Form:
Narrative
She is not so much a kitten as a weather-vane
studying stillness through quartered panes
from a swollen sill while I’m at my desk, coding
in silence, awaiting the turn of weather.
She leaps to my lap; invites my hand to collapse
her coil, purring softly. I can’t help but notice
the soothing sound of her notes; a timely breeze
gently fluttering unfurled by the patient Monarch.
68 Words
5/24/17
Submitted for: One of Five – Seventy Words or Less
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Categories:
quartered, cat, god, lonely,
Form:
Free verse
A GUNPOWDER PLOT
The 5th of November is a day to remember,
Children get excited from September,
The sound of fireworks reverberate,
And bonfires with effigies of a life like
Guy Fawkes commemorate
What might have been a very bad turn,
If Parliament was then to burn!
The origin of this story began on the 5th November
Sixteen hundred and five,
Beneath the houses of Parliament, Guy Fawkes,
The traitor was found, and so King James did survive.
Our traitor/hero was brought up in a
Family with an outward Protestant belief,
But the reality was that he was Catholic
And to this day is recorded on leaf!
However, Protestants and Catholics are still
Divided in their faith,
As to which side of the fence Guy Fawkes should haith!
Guy Fawkes sent a letter to a Catholic acquaintance,
To please not stay, and be far away,
On this planned explosive gun powder plot day!
But plans went awry, and this secret letter
Landed, in the lap of James the King,
Who sent his guards to go find this rebellious ring.
Guy Fawkes was found with six barrels of gunpowder, and
Immediately sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered,
But this meant a death of real suffering, a miserable
Horrible fate of been slaughtered!
This for him was unthinkable, so he jumped from the
Gallows and broke his neck.
Young children are not told the gory
Side of this famous story,
For it would wreck
A child’s belief in this day, destroy their enjoyment
Of bonfires, fireworks and loads of fun,
And even recognized as a hero by some!
Categories:
quartered, firework, history,
Form:
Rhyme
Old Flossy
by Don Johnson
Brisbane-Australia
It was there on Sharpen station, ....(ranch)
west near Adavale i'd be.
Back in the early thirties,
worst drought you'd ever see.
Five thousand cows were dying slow,
brought from lake Nash to Adavale. ....(droving trip)
They lived on mulga bushes low, ...........(13% tree leaves drought food)
to feed their bodies frail.
I was the boy who manned the pump,
fat crows in thousands waited.
With not a blade of grass or single clump,
those crows for sure i hated.
The cattle bitsa old flossy had nine pups,
more company for me.
For i'd get a visit once a month,
yes it's then the boss i'd see.
The dead cows around the trough did lie,
and i'd snig them right away.
I'd shifted hundreds by and by,
cut and quartered where they lay.
The pups were disappearing fast,
one every day for sure.
I checked the camp and missed the last,
saw snake tracks upon the floor.
Old Mulga snake would breathe no more,
he'd had his last pup meal.
He was big as nine foot four,
when the last pup he did steal.
Old flossy fought him tooth and nail,
he'd bit her also too.
She chewed his head off didn`t fail,
was dying this she knew.
I held her dying with my arm,
her pleading eyes i saw.
She went to sleep so very calm,
passed on through death's front door.
in 1936 old yellow flossy died game!
In this lonely place with death all around you, it was tragic for young Don to lose his
dog. Aussie shepherds (cattle dogs) will defend you, camp on your doorstep.
Categories:
quartered, adventureold, old,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm just writing my story
Leaving out all the glory
I never tore them; yet the pages and spine are all but broken
Its letters are scattered, yet still the words form a concise omen
Would you read it back to me slowly, please, as you reach the bitter ending?
It hurts my eyes, you see; this heart could use a break from all this bending.....
Being devoured alive inside is such a epic novel unsavory
Moments, however, are kept in order by thoughts of your light upon my gnomon
They just keep coming, though without a care as to whether or not they are heartrending
It's so sour to own a form of pain that is this condescending
A barren land uncultivated and so divided from this yeoman
Painless by comparison to a nose job given by the grindstone of life's knavery
Just as I finished; then, the ink ran dry right before me.....
It's in this here and now that I've broken out
I wanna scream, but they drown out every shout
Then I think of all the things I ought not talk about:
Have they ever not been a couple minutes too late?
Do they ever have their story straight?
Inside me, hope has made its case to abate....
Hung from ropes unknown, can you relate?
Am I the world's least astute gadabout?
What I feel is that my intentions are drawn and quartered; based fully on others' self-doubt
But there is no way I will let this point of pitiful; be an excuse to live life by copping out
Categories:
quartered, angst, deep, introspection, pain,
Form:
Free verse
PARALLEOGRAMATIC
Four sober quadrilateral equations
were quartered around a rectangular occasion.
No less than a quadrifarious derivation,
are ever admitted to the annual rectangular without libation!
Categories:
quartered, on writing and words,
Form:
Couplet
This June, our national football team
Is going to South Africa, for the World Cup
When we were told not to wear our team colours
I thought, ‘This country has gone bottom up!’
Since when did our nation get twisted
Into a totalitarian state?
Where certain minorities have their say
Fuelling the ‘BNP’s’ fires of hate
They wouldn’t have even dare to constrain
The Welsh, the Irish or Scots
Who if told not to wear their teams colours
Would rather be hung, drawn, quartered or shot
Their sense of pride in their history
And for their Countries, is world renowned,
For England to bow to the vociferous few
Would be letting the team in South Africa down
Not to mention our troops in Afghanistan
Fighting terror so we can live free
Nailing their colours to the mast
Standing proud in the fight for their country
We here in England must echo that pride
As onwards all ‘our boys’ forge
And I for one, will be flying my flag
For Queen, Country, ‘boys’ and Saint George.
Categories:
quartered, political, sportsworld, england,
Form:
Rhyme
A King I am over this spacious realm
One dares to steal this throne of mine I own
With armies bought he tries to overwhelm
To leave my castle rot with quartered bone
I'll stand to face my death in time of war
To fiercely fight and die with shattered sword
Conquering King now comes that I abhor
and oath he swore as my death comes toward
I'll find no pause as I endure this fight
They came in darkness from a gathered storm
To leave me naked, but a sense of right
As dripping blood when nightmares start to form
This King once brother slowed his pace 'till dawn
Finds he's to late to execute my doom
His anger tortured as my life is gone
With a final breath my body did consume
The throne he seeks won't occupy his weight
With bloodless sword now pulled to curse my name
He can't fulfill the oath that fuels his hate
Falls on his sword, an oath once sworn to blame
contest Structured Forms-Iambic
Frederic Parker
original posted 2/3/14
revised posted 12/25/14
Categories:
quartered, betrayal, , cute,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
"kamikaze"
Isn’t it odd
how you always gravitate back to me,
I circle your mind like a helicopter
you watch me
like a moth
attracted to flames,
lit in succulent tender air waves
the others will state their absolute grievances,
it’s a force majeure for preconceived
unaccountable and unavoidable catastrophes
but We,
persist, We,
kamikaze
all artificial
and unintelligent,
other side of the wall
reasoning
bows,
to Love,
always
Love,
gravitates,
persists,
calls us all in
just as debutantes,
there We are,
our insides shining out,
illogically
semi-public
so un-upperclassed,
We are, barefeet dancing
under eye-glass boiling,
serious insects
quartered illogically
'neath microscope petri'd
kamikaze
Love
calls Us all in
debutantes
illogically
troped
“Juliet is the Sun!”,
espouses Romeo;
little does he know,
She is more
than a
soft black-holed velvet galaxy
She's a
Universe, diamond sharp
turned inside out
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Categories:
quartered, romance,
Form:
Free verse
His name fills us with fright;
We won't forget his crime;
We can't forgive him this time;
We distrust him day and night.
We view him with disgust
We hold him in contempt
He did something unjust.
He quartered a bee.
Incorrigible sinner!
His hunger does not move us;
May his body grow thinner!
He quartered a bee.
What this man did is not fair;
This libidinous blackguard
deserves the electric chair.
He quartered a bee.
Childish, menefreghista,
and conceited. It irks us
that such a maggot exists.
He quartered a bee.
We well knew: If he carvest
a bee, he will not be free.
He could've been smartest.
He quartered a bee.
He's not the person you want to be.
He quartered a bee.
Categories:
quartered, crazy, humor, insect, murder,
Form:
Verse
Wordless worries wander wearily working wayward,
Towards thoughts transgressing truth’s textured tide.
As always acknowledging agnosticism’s appeal,
Essence easily evaporates, exeunt Emile.
Very virtuous violent vowels vociferously validate,
Sanctimonious sessions some subtly sacrosanct.
Is it in incrementally immense ingenious imaginations,
Or ontology’s omniscience overcoming oceanic oratory?
Roughly rallying rage’s recessive righteousness,
Quickly quartered queens quietly quiver qualities quoi.
Under unctuous undeniably Umbrian utterances,
An astute and acute awareness as always arose.
Placing plausibly proverbial prevaricating predications,
Many morose morally myopic manly mighty men,
Eulogize everlasting ephemerally entertaining evocations.
Insinuating incredible implications, insomnia initiates,
Notably nullifying notoriously negligible nihilistic necessities.
Lies lay low, linking lofty linguistic lessons like laws,
Of optional opportunities oscillating on occult overtures
Until underlying unctions unify ubiquitous unknowns.
Joyless Joseph’s joyful Joy just jumped, just jumped!
Killing killjoy knuckle kosher korma koranic krap.
And announce another anonymous anodyne appointment?
(Empiricism’s emphatic emission, enter erotic Eloise).
Having Heidegger helps, hope’s homunculi hunting human.
Get gone ginger guesses, go grope Ginger’s grapes!
Immaculately ironic inquisitions instigate immediate impositions.
Once onto opaque ominous orbs, obey Oracles open orders.
Framing funny fractions, flaming far flung frivolous fictions,
Death defies dollar damnations, deliciously done devaluations.
Usually uncle umpire understands useful underlying ululations,
Also affirming apples avuncular altruistic assumptions.
Creeds crave caves, charms calm cause, come conquerors,
Be belligerently bad, betray birth’s beginning, balance budgets.
Entreating entirely empty, emphatically elusive, existential entelechy,
Is, importantly, incommensurably idiotic, inexplicably impractical indeed.
Categories:
quartered, crazy, creation, imagination, ,
Form:
Alliteration