Best Quintella Poems | Poetry
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New Quintella Poems
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Reflection of Deformed Me
by Sinha-Roy, Subimal
by Cozart, Dale Gregory
by Gaul, Greg
A Daily Battle
by Leslie, Stefani
An Absinthe Eventide
by Barden, Gregory R
Under A Patchwork Sky
by Chan, Bernard
by Collins , John
Millions Of Tears
by Study, James
by Study, James
by Study, James
View all new Quintella Poems
The Best Quintella Poems
your time is near,
be part of it.
Fall into the great ocean
your conscious way,
Nature's final notion.
let it go,
it happens so,
embrace the black.
Droplet make a tiny splash.
Whisper in your Bardo ear,
till you're no longer here,
and flesh turns to simple ash.
So sleep little droplet,
how sweet the dew.
To love it and live it
and to start anew.
Copyright © Greg Gaul | Year Posted 2017
A stealthy tiger stalks his prey
His eyes alight with cunning gleam;
And tho' the world may peaceful seem
The lissome springboks graze and play --
The danger lurks, not far away
He crouches low, his muscles taught
While calculations fill his mind
The perfect arc of force to find;
His quarry, still without a thought
Of what design the tiger sought
The tiger springs, the creatures flee
His mighty limbs with awesome force
Perform their planned and deadly course;
Now lies the springbok piteously
Forever torn from things that be
And o'er his corpse presides the prince
His solid jowls bespecked with blood
His razor claws in crimson flood;
He glories in these trickling glints
That show his skill in ruby tints
And when the prince has et his fill
The birds descend to eat the rest
To feed the young ones in the nest;
But on the tiger roams at will
He's free to wander, hunt, and kill
Written on the twenty-eighth of July, 2013
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013
Where dawn is born and clouds are spun
To clothe the sky in golden lace,
The sea ignites as currents chase
Soft morning light that's just begun
To wake our love, caught in the sun.
Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2012
It’s nice to get away
for a few hours or a day
As soft breezes stir night air
And salty mist clings to your hair
Stirring memories of Adolescence at play.
It’s nice to have the chance
to hear the song, to do the dance
And though we far exceed our prime
We light our path with love, stopping time
stopping space, and fuel the flame of our romance.
It’s nice in morning rain
to find that spot on memory lane
To look at who, what, where we are from.
While waves and breeze and the noonday sun
Sooth and calm, tan, bleach and burn away our pain.
It’s nice to turn away
From the things old and gray;
And we miss those times at the shore.
But truth is, we like our life now lots more
And we won’t trade tomorrow for all of yesterday
Feb 21 2010 Charles Henderson
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2010
Encased in earthen form, I rise,
held chest-tight with fear my eyes belie.
Tumbled stone and ancient steps so steep,
lead to a mound and valley deep
where I let loose my song to sky.
The song resounds from crag to peak
a lonely echo blue on green.
The soulful song from quartz careens
and shames the hillside cold cheek
returning brazen, seldom meek.
For once sent forth, it must return,
its formless flight, a brief sojourn,
A repetition not unique,
a hollow copy which respeaks
of lovers lost and trust unearned.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2013
I sauntered in an evening mist
A midnight's heaven, magic-kissed
Lamp-lit raindrops pattered, awesome
Shining city turned violet blossom
Enchantments I could ne'er resist.
Adrift upon the Paris, proper
Wandered I, a Yankee pauper
Until a Latin damsel's ride
Paused, as she pulled me inside
(Not that I had mind to stop her).
Away, into another world
She and I were thusly hurled
A night of excess, spinning fast
Absinthe sweetened our repast
As did lips, and tresses, curled.
Club-to-club we smartly hopped
More green nectar if we flopped
Pushing tenders to their rations
Just to fuel our backseat passions
On-and-onward, 'til we dropped.
All seems dream now, in my mind
Still, I'd swear that when we dined
Famous folks from ages hence
Were with us for our merriments
And all the mischief we could find.
The best of writers in their day
Zelda, F. Scott and Hemingway
Gertrude Stein and Porter, Cole
Pined, polemic, from their soul
Life and love, the friendly fray.
No discourse was too far-fetched
Others, too, who talked and sketched
Pablo Picasso and Gauguin, Paul
Dali and Man Ray, surrealists all
On, the wilding hours stretched.
Ever poured the emerald potion
Crazy cogs in constant motion
Clouding, thick, the mental fog
Far beyond the hair-of-dog
Glasses raised for every notion.
Thus it passed 'til all went black
Awaking days hence in my sack
Believing now that all these things
Were just a night's meanderings
Or the ramblings of a maniac.
I set my mind to purge it all
Grabbed my phone to make a call
Then spotted on my bed, a note
Within the pocket of my coat
So I crumpled it into a ball.
You see, I recognized the write
I'd seen it on that misty night
When, with absinthe, we'd our fill
And Hemingway had signed the bill.
So I sauntered off into the night ...
Too scared to find out ... if I was right.
* FOURTH PLACE in the "Dreams" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor. *
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017
I fell in love with a tree stump.
A quite curious stump was he.
No branches to thump.
No fall leaves to see.
But a very special stump was he.
There in the woods, other trees grew tall.
Swaying their limbs and leaves in the breeze.
But one special tree stump won my awe.
Once, tall and stately was he, before the freeze.
Now, short and sad hearted because of the saw.
I was weary, downhearted, and lonely.
When, I spotted that stump beside a pile of wood.
A perfect place to rest, it seemed to me.
I rushed right over as quickly as I could.
Then, sat right there, relaxed, and feeling so good.
While trees all around made their showy stance,
I sat and enjoyed from my comfortable stump.
He had no limbs nor leaves to wind-dance.
He had no branches to thump.
He was there for me to rest myself…by chance.
Pining alone, I fell in love with that tree stump.
A quiet refuge was he.
No longer sad, life became plump.
And my soul soared higher than one can see.
For he was there when I needed him…and he needed me.
© October 28, 2010
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010
A poem is more than words that rhyme;
it's not some gum sold for a dime
A poem should speak with heart and soul,
it tickles minds and can console.
Verse with no aim is like a crime.
25 June 2015
Five Lines / Metaphors and Simile Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
a tender touch ignites romance
fluttering flames create love dance
gentle caresses, tasting bliss,
intoxicates juice of sweet kiss
as hearts entwine, hypnotic trance.
*For Andrea's Catch Phrase, Dazzle Me Contest.
*Dec. 22, 2012.
Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012
The mild Cape Town winter weather
triggers blooming of the Heather.
The Erica shines their lanterns
among the Foxtail Ferns.
The white clouds overhead feather.
The Silver Trees create a foil
against which the flora toil.
The King Proteas are gearing up
to supply a feast for birds to sup.
The Cape Cobras in slumber coil.
The Aloes have many a use
and can withstand much abuse.
The fiery red Cape Honeysuckle
led the cultivated hedges to buckle.
Mountain fires lit by the obtuse.
Our proud heritage was in full bloom -
a rambling pathway the only room.
Scorched earth, naked and black;
sustenance of the soil now sadly lack.
The canon on Signal Hill booms.
Official New7Wonders Inauguration of Table Mountain in Cape Town: 2 December 2012
Picture of the King Protea, the national flower of South Africa:
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013
Wet colors blended into one
New creations beheld in awe
Artistic beauties without flaw
Eyes behold glory as the sun
Textures combined into such fun!
quintella 8 syllables each line
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2011
The season’s fest imbues a bliss
As the grove blooms in morning’s kiss;
Where dainty festoons are aglow
Through springtime’s reign, young couples flow
Along bright paths, they reminisce.
The wind blows with scent of flowers
A lyre's music thrilling the hours
When gents kindle bold courtship's fire,
And lilies flaunt their gold attire
To charm pairs dancing in wonder.
Sweet talk and laughter fill the air
Oh gaiety rises everywhere,
Heady as tulips and wreaths unfurl
While ladies tiptoe like bough's curl;
On the first day of May’s affair.
Dusk slowly wafts to end the sighs
From misty lanes, dewdrops arise;
Hands on petals begin to rest
Enshrining time’s grace at its behest,
Till morrow comes for a new surprise!
Summer Premiere Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
I wish you love my valentine
I wish once more that you were mine
Gone are the days when you did care
Gone is the love that we once shared
For you I pine sweet Valentine...
Copyright © Sharon Ruebel | Year Posted 2011
The anvil wallows on his heart
His dreams, trodden, alas depart
Pride triggers a cursory front
The fierce justification hunt
He steps to nowhere from the start
Copyright © Natalie The Rogue Rhymer | Year Posted 2012
quintella (Spanish quintain) in pentameter
Hard-working spider, you do your part,
instinctive busy spider that thou art.
You speak without doubt as you weave your web.
It is we humankind that tend to ebb
and surge, trying to balance mind and heart.
One day man, I'm down, oh my restless soul.
On rising up, how can I dare extol
a friend or employer on a mere whim;
then the very next day dishonor him
by rank conduct that is out of control?
Consistency is a course of action,
a gift that structures one’s reputation.
It is ripe fruit of making wise choices;
it is prudent forethought which rejoices
beyond just making a good impression.
Yes, speak if you wish of what you believe;
AND watch what you do, lest you should deceive
by your performance that which you profess.
Would spiders agree - caprice creates stress?
A web of whimsy is not worth the weave.
written 30 March 2016
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2016
Crowned May Queen
As the music flows in my mind and soul in cheer
I dance around on my toes in the sun kissed fragrant fields
of wildflowers and tall emerald green grass yields
With a breath of life that dwells the day is near
For I’m favored to be the prettiest maiden here
All eyes will be on me in my white lace dress and closed shoes I will astound
with my hair in curls and a crown of blossoms and leaves of green
when I'm honored with the crown of May Queen
a symbol of the stillness of nature surrounds
In which everything revolves around
Early bright is here with a clear blue unclouded sky
My friends and neighbors are all excited to their utmost ability
Townships and villages celebrating springtime fertility
Handsome couples gathering bouquets of flowers from nearby
decorating the whole town with springtime greenery and mystify
I lead the celebration up to the heart of town singing
Old buildings and tables are adorned with scented blooms that leave you breathless
Populace displays all the elegance of their dress
Dressed in white, carrying garlands of flowers and beaming
children follow giggling and dancing
They place a crown of blossoms on my head, I say a speech from my soul
and set off the festivities, with dance and overwhelming merriment
Musicians play their musical instruments with talent
with eating, drinking, jubilant music, and courtly lovers dancing around the Maypole
A feast fit for a King, everyone enjoys crafts, games, and carousel to console
With a breath of life at the age of sixteen
As the music flows in my mind and soul
I dance around the maypole
Favored for being the prettiest maiden seen
Honored with being crowned May Queen
By: Eve Roper 4/18/2015 Quintella Form
Contest Name: On the First of May
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015
The day cannot turn gray
though it may be cloudy
though the storm may be rowdy
but when I walk Your way
the day is not gray.
The night is not frightening
though the moon may not be serenading
though clouds may obstruct star gazing
but when in Your light I am gazing
the night is not frightening.
The wind does not turn me cold
though it may blow strongly
though it may shout loudly
but when it is You I behold
the wind does not turn me cold.
The music of my heart's never dead
though the violins may stop their fiddling
though the drums may stop their beating
but when I feel Your heart turned glad
my song becomes a sonnet.
Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix | Year Posted 2011
Timber connected by dovetail to weight born
A chair was fashioned out of choice black wood
In the middle of the front room it proudly stood
Glittering pearl inlay and gold leaf to adorn
The back rest carved in symbolic stylised *acorn
Proudly I took possession of this worldly treasure
Everyone gathered round to view this acquisition
The craftsmanship admired and the precision
Clearly it was a token of my status and my measure
Trusting it would give years of infinite pleasure
In the Great Fire the chair had burned, destroyed
Often I had used it to rest my oft’ weary bones
Before this I had to content with worn thrones
Standing proudly in the room, it was mostly void
Only of value when it was usefully employed
The Norse legend that Thor sheltered from a thunderstorm under an oak tree has led to the belief that having an acorn on a windowsill will prevent a house from being struck by lightning, hence the popularity of window blind pulls decorated as acorns.
Poem inspired by the followin quote:
THE PEACE OF ZEN
All form is emptiness, yet it’s not,
all emptiness is form
in essence not.
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013
Such is the road of mystery
Hard to accept these things I see
Unexpected these sights I find
See spirits near though I am blind
A world I’ve never known to be
Leaving behind truths I’ve been shown
Watching them go broken and blown
My haunted heart scared to believe
Worlds within worlds I can’t conceive
This is knowing, in the unknown
Copyright © Seline Elaina | Year Posted 2010
Meet me where winding rivers run
A rising sun kisses the hills
Where misty mornings are a thrill
And humming birds stop by for fun
Sipping nectar, caught in the sun
For: Andrea's Catch phrase dazzler contest
Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2012
Don't worry about me
I'm just playing my scripted
Be not unforgiving or hurt
Let me live without your
For I walk no paved way to
I stand out seeming much to
Yet no less a man I'm than
If what I am won't overcome
The pits of hell then so it be!
To hide behind religious zeal
A license to kill, rape and
Is cowardly deceit to me
I'd best boycott your
And bravely face the
Copyright © Esson Alumbugu | Year Posted 2011
They are circling my house rooftop.
From vantage point to wall they hop.
Irritating noise filling the air,
becoming just too much to bear.
But I ‘m too much of a milksop.
Poisoning them, out of the question.
I’m for green peaceful rendition
to rid myself of this black pest,
so that I can get morning rest
from this unwelcome infestation.
Their natural habitat destroyed
when new building schemes deployed.
Trees and feeding grounds lie barren –
Not a trace of rabbit warren.
I’m unreasonably annoyed.
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2012
She stood there on the balcony
watching him riding off to war
her heart was full of mutiny
crushed she held onto the bar
there would be no matrimony
Juliet was full of acrimony
hating the powerful Tsar
far away the cacophony
the sound of the battle of war
drifting up to the balcony
Juliet waited for his pony
hearing distantly his sitar
his voice singing songs so corny
she ran to him down the sandbar
now there could be matrimony
my first Quintella I hope I got the form right
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014
I laid me down in peace and slept
And found with pure unfeigned surprise
A land of bliss before my eyes;
Then from my eyes this vision swept
So there I lay and softly wept
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2012
Who could look beyond horizons
To where the warmth of glowing Heat
Will ask the Angel in retreat
Smile upon a body wizened
Ageless soul still longs to find Him
Copyright © Yoni Dvorkis | Year Posted 2009