Best Quatrains Poems
I am the unfulfilled dream,
I am the demon not faced,
I am the speech without a theme,
I am fears you haven’t chased.
The wave lost in an ocean wide,
The seed hiding afraid to grow,
The storm brewing on every side,
The tide feels a great tow.
So see who I am
Your dream will become a reality,
Your demon disappears,
Your words an actuality,
Your strength conquers fears.
The wave will pound the sand,
The seed begins to grow,
The storm will show its hand,
The tide begins to ebb and flow.…
I am your potential—release me.
One day out in the country I was led
by an old pathway to a hidden place
with honeyed scent from a wild garden bed
where ruffled blooms reached toward the sky with grace.
My spirit lifted too from sheer delight.
Dew glistened on each sweet pea’s pretty head.
How beautiful that scene in sun so bright -
green grass and blossoms in purple and red!
May 28, 2016
I
The winds were loudly whistling,
Blowing the trees’ leaves all around;
God sneezed and misty rain fell to the ground;
In an instant, blades of green grass began to glisten.
II
The lightening choreographed its self
Throughout the air;
In the far distance, the loud thunder
Was heard clashing;
The heavily burdened clouds had taken in
All they could bare…
Suddenly, giant balls of pelting hail began
Their icy trashing…
III
Curious about the rain caused strife,
The sun peeped to investigate;
Unaware—the Devil was beating his wife,
The sun’s concern was a bit too late.
IV
It’s known, rain is no friend to the desert’s growth;
And that floods care less where they might spread.
Such strange fellows are the both;
Happily sharing the same old bed…
Summer Quatrains – Swap Quatrains 6-19-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer Quatrains
Silk ribbons of ice melt into wellsprings
With jubilant serenades, heartfelt,
Frozen heartbeats freed from rime flow on wings
Into wellsprings silk ribbons of ice melt.
The brooding nimbus bows to solstice’ clouds
Dandelion days doze in clover now
As the Dayspring moon chants reveries out loud
To solstice’ clouds the brooding nimbus bows.
The rumpled season rides on wings of change,
Dancing in the ether where dreams abide,
Somersaults o’re a wishing star’s exchange
On wings of change the rumpled season rides.
In summer’s sunlight winter’s rose arises
Past the melancholy veils of dark starlight
Opens silky buds, rapture’s surprises,
Winter’s rose arises in summer sunlight.
I love to swap things with my friends.
Today I’ve got a recipe
to offer you. Please send me yours.
Let’s make some “soup” with poetry.
You must have fourteen cups of fresh
strict meter. Just one brand will do;
that’s iambic pentameter.
For spicy sonnet flavor, you
add just a pinch of all of these:
A B A B, C D C D,
E F E F. Stir well before
you add the special spice—G G.
For soup with substance, metaphors,
hyperboles, and similes
add robust taste to sonnet soup.
Add more—whichever ones you please.
Bring to a boil. Then cook on low
to medium two hours. Before
you serve it, taste. Does it taste great—
or not? Does it need something more?
April 28, 2017 entered in Brian Strand's Premier May Contest: 25-line max, any topic or form
May 19, 2022
Poetry Contest: Merger with Food
Sponsor: Natasha L. Scragg
Whenever I see a young man
Proudly made of steel
I wonder at the young woman
Sure to make him kneel
Wherever I hear a young man
Loudly praise his great deal
I ponder if a young woman
Might make much of his meal
Whatever a young man
Gladly claims to bear his seal
I tender that a young woman,
Somehow, had made him real
Whomever would deny
That anything he may feel
Is not without a reply
In the partner at his heel
Is a fool; young man, tenfold.
We each are bound to repeat,
True or false, even the foretold,
Till our lives becomes replete.
To me, verbal Apology is only inflated pride
The good people don’t call for apologies to deride
Bad people for base vantage may go on their knees
Verbal apology is only inflated pride, to me.
Torment none, repent for past and dread for future
If you think you've erred, make the amends sooner
It is easier to eat crow while it is still warm anon*
Repent for past and dread for future, torment none.
While travelling over the world, a sad truth I’ve found
Those people we’re fond of, their feelings we wound
we flatter those of whom we have hardly heard
A sad truth I’ve found, while travelling over the world.
* Proverb
Inspired by G.K. Chesterton's writings
+++++++++
March 8, 2014
Form : Swap Quatrains
Dr.Ram Mehta
9th Place win
Contest: Swap Quatrains by Andrea
Each time you call my name I seek
the feeling of your gentle kiss,
I hear your voice, it makes me weak.
In love's embrace yet still I miss
the caress from an angel's lips,
my mind needs more than parti pris
to lose my heart to love's eclipse.
You touch my heart beneath moon gleams,
to woo my mind and win my soul
with whispered thoughts, you feed my dreams.
Sweet-talk my heart, with words cajole
my feelings, with a push and shove
you show me how in you I'm whole
and dance me to the world of love.
(a poetry collection)
for The Beloved and in honor of Mevlana Jallaladin Rumi
… illusions don´t matter when you see the best of yourself reflected by the beloved in the
garden pool of your affection…
* * *
… your ocean reverberates in mine, the terror of darkness in its thunder, sunrise-surges in
its motion, and resonating to all, part of me bows like the willow, while another rises toward
the moon as powerful, but taller and straighter than poplars of the mountains…
~~~~~~~
We all are girls and boys in the sandbox… and the ocean beyond is our dream…
~~~~~~~
… like fox kittens tumbling about on the sunlit steps of home in forest glade and field, so
lovers test one another in hope of that childhood enduring like the sun…
(a poetry collection)
for The Beloved and in honor of Mevlana Jallaladin Rumi
~~~
Third Leaf: "Mavi" (Turkish for 'blue')
We love dreaming hallucinations
of ivory towers out of fear
of tumbling truly asleep into visions of
doghouses and nightmares of
Tinseltown-Princesses
falling in love with the dog in the backyard…
* * *
Alexander… they called him Great,
loved a beautiful soldier and a beautiful horse,
kissed one
and the riddle is: Did he kiss both?
which one first and with the most ardor?…
___
… pulsing…
… our blood thick
with us together
oceans of each other
in the salted mist,
rapt, I hear your thunder and hiss
am at sea in your siren call
beckoning my shores
cleansed of all else…
… our anchor rocked
in the umbilical rhythm
washing through us
ceasingly pulsing…
* * *
… my vision of you blinded me
when you came to live
in the irises of my eyes…
… the ultimate,
marriage of illumination and lustrous darkness…
… perfection of vision – blind, yet
still seeing irises…
(a poetry collection)
for The Beloved and in honor of Mevlana Jallaladin Rumi
… the mind within mutely knows that much of love´s pain is not surrender, but self-infliction,
yet willingly surrenders to a blindfold worn above a knife thrust into the heart…
* * *
… in vain, we hope the wound will heal, though the wind will caress it during the magnificent
and cleansing terror of free-fall...
~~~~~~~
Loving you is my indulgence… please indulge yourself…
* * *
… intimacy flourishes at night because love walks the velvet-deep
of night-sky…… wrap it around you… intimately…
Three French quatrains, Translation of Etiemble’s Trois quatrains français by T. Wignesan
Fly …fly !
For Sylvie (Etiemble) on the occasion
of commencing primary school
All cats are school-goers
watching a fly fly
but the teacher caught the fly:
one should seize the collar.
October 1978
1. Narcissus
For Sylvie who came late to the mirror stage,
but who has since made up for it… (1981)
All ducks are Narcissuses
kissing the ends of their beaks.
Comes the solstice’s rigour:
the ice clouds the dry mirror.
2. All ducks are Narcissuses
kissing the ends of their beaks.
Comes the solstice’s rigour:
the silt clouds the dry mirror.
Four-lined Stanzas - my Quatrains by design.
Interwoven A-B-A-B- the rhymes.
Ten syllabically are read per line.
Written -- nature, sullen, and benign times.
From A Dream, Three Quatrains Gifted
The Searching
I went forth into the windy forest
Through thistles, thorns and falling day
Crossing umber meadows and flowing stream
Forever seeking that which hath fled away.
The Flying
I went forth into midnight sleeping
From spinning cloud to cloud I fled
Far below, slow breeze comforted Fate
Whilst I slept alone in my bed.
The Denying
I went forth into tomorrow's churnings
As a child lost in the sorrowing haze
The sun there was a ball of distant red
And I, falling into its infinite blaze.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-12-2022
Poetry
Note:
Ok, note becomes the fourth, but definitely was not intended to be..
Thus, editing it now to give it the proper title..
The Understanding
Waking to rise, inking verse to stay afloat
O but a few words to the blue-cast skies
It was Goliath that the flying stone smote
Thus, laying devil low in his flesh-cast disguise…
Note:
"smote"
smite
/smit/
Learn to pronounce
verb
*****past tense: smote*****
1.
LITERARY
strike with a firm blow.
(a poetry collection)
for The Beloved and in honor of Mevlana Jallaladin Rumi
… you´ll find yourself through the agony of giving birth to your friend, brother and lover, the
same blood throbbing to the same pulses through the same veins from the same heart
making love to heart… … the unsolvable riddle of essence born and reborn in essence…
* * *
… we waited for centuries to share our toys, and now I always hold you carefully before me
while we are bareback on our horse carrying us back to the chamber of our Eternal Mother,
modest yet resplendent in her robe of the Ageless One…
* * *
… I honor you: You, prince of desert horses, the pristine promise of treasured rainbows in
your arching neck, the wind in your flowing mane, the cadences of your feet, dust rises
around you like a veil… the yawning of god in awakening lies beyond…
* * *
… the stain across the horizon is the birthing-blood of our brotherhood from a time beyond
all horizons, but not beyond our river flowing from heart to heart, where sunsets and
sunrises take their evening and morning baths…