Best Quintain (English) Poems

On her terrace where she once had viewed a crimson field,
she stands recalling heroes who were battling their foe.
She still can feel the terror! How her poor heart reeled
thinking of her lover fighting on the field below,
with others on that plain bathed red as the...

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She wept as they buried her one true love.
Each day thereafter she brought him a rose,
the flower she knew he was fondest of.
Her grief unbearable, beyond repose.
What pain and suffering his death bestows.

Nothing prevented her daily visit.
She didn't want him to feel all alone.
When beside...

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While traveling ‘cross such harsh terrain 
     left parched and barren from the sun 
   and weeks without a cooling rain,
       I saw a sight that left a stun
    ...

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Dear Quintain, how beautiful you are,
allowing us to paint the spacious sea or sky, 
landscapes, or nights’ celestial bodies beckoning from afar.
Even when my quill is running dry,
with you along, my thoughts are sure to fly!

For all I need to do
is let you slip inside,...

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Here's a fact, life is no bed of roses.
        It has a habit of knocking us down.
           Whatever injustice it imposes,
Welcome it! Don't let the world see you...

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Look up!  Snowflakes appear in streetlights
   Hear children cheer as snow days are announced
Watch the powder fly during snowball fights
   Listen as faith through joyful hymns is pronounced
   Join snow angel brigades while on wintery landscapes we pounce

Walk...

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Frost crisped, the lawn remained
beneath the frozen dew.
Water dripped to ice as gutters drained.
The cardinal bids the day adieu;
the winter storm has left a gelid view....

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 She arrives with a mystic charm
 Gliding in on silver moon
 With a peaceful vibe that oft disarms
 As words of praise in yuletide tunes
 Echo  where the stars are strewn...

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“We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we lie in fields of gold.” - from Sting’s Fields of Gold

One day in a museum, my mind on an old flame,
I found myself mysteriously being led
to a field of gold depicted within a gilded frame.
In...

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A young man leads his girlfriend to a tree
one sultry summer eve as night is looming.
the branches of the old oak form a canopy
under which he leans in for a kiss, assuming
his new love also feels their romance blooming.

The pretty girl is innocent and shy,
but...

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If this is my last poem, a masterpiece it will not be,
nor a poem of sorrow written deep into the night.
No self-recriminations or guilt. That is not me.
By nature I’m a sonneteer. My poetry is light.
A song of happiness and gratitude I’ll write.

As imperfect as...

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REAPING AND RELISHING SAPODILLA PLUMS

Reaching out towards freshness all ripened,
Holding onto huge branches hovering high,
Not bothered about tan getting deepened,
I hand pluck lush naseberries straight from the sky;
Savouring sweetness with a satisfied sigh.



2nd August, 2017
...

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In dawn's aura, mountains glistened with snow.
Rooster's crowing proclaimed the break of day.
December's frosty winds began to blow
as clouds shadowed a sullen shade of gray,
and serpentine ripples flowed on the bay.

Dimmed were rays of light from the sallow sun
when for a while its beams had...

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Outside my window lives a chickadee,
he loves snowy green pine,
and has a family of about twenty-three;
he loves the snow and falling snowflakes divine,
and each morning the whole family sing for me.

Sometimes they scatter on clamous whirling wings,
off to a park nearby,
my heart is sad...

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For holding things, two arms have we -
two arms with hands with which we have been blessed.
Two only – we’ve no need of three.
Two arms to reach with or to cross beneath our chest,
and in two arms of someone special we can be caressed.

Although with...

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