Long Quarterly Poems
Long Quarterly Poems. Below are the most popular long Quarterly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quarterly poems by poem length and keyword.
Seasons
quarterly change
I love the transition
with wild temperature contrasts
from hot sizzling sunshine
to freezing cold
such bliss!
Seasons
quarterly change
new growth appears on trees
beautiful flowers start blooming
nature rejuvenates
days get longer
each spring
Seasons
quarterly change
annual vacation
on a glorious golden beach
enjoy time outdoors in
scorching sunshine
summer
seasons
quarterly change
foliage starts to fall
twirling leaves of red and orange
we warm by the fire as
nights get colder
autumn
Seasons
quarterly change
some bitterly cold days
flurries of snowflakes start falling
kids build big snowmen and
dress warmly in
winter
Checked with how many syllables each stanza 2,4,6,8,6,4.2
Heptastich Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
05/20/21
Sweet Rose of Virtue
by William Dunbar [1460-1525]
translation by Michael R. Burch
Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness,
delightful lily of youthful wantonness,
richest in bounty and in beauty clear
and in every virtue that is held most dear,
except only that you are merciless.
Into your garden, today, I followed you;
there I saw flowers of freshest hue,
both white and red, delightful to see,
and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently,
yet everywhere, no odor but rue.
I fear that March with his last arctic blast
has slain my fair rose of pallid and gentle cast,
whose piteous death does my heart such pain
that, if I could, I would compose her roots again,
so comforting her bowering leaves have been.
Desdemona
by Michael R. Burch
Though you possessed the moon and stars,
you are bound to fate and wed to chance.
Your lips deny they crave a kiss;
your feet deny they ache to dance.
Your heart imagines wild romance.
Though you cupped fire in your hands
and molded incandescent forms,
you are barren now, and?spent of flame?
the ashes that remain are borne
toward the sun upon a storm.
You, who demanded more, have less,
your heart within its cells of sighs
held fast by chains of misery,
confined till death for peddling lies?
imprisonment your sense denies.
You, who collected hearts like leaves
and pressed each once within your book,
forgot. None?winsome, bright or rare?
not one was worth a second look.
My heart, as others, you forsook.
But I, though I loved you from afar
through silent dawns, and gathered rue
from gardens where your footsteps left
cold paths among the asters, knew?
each moonless night the nettles grew
and strangled hope, where love dies too.
Published by Penny Dreadful, Carnelian, Romantics Quarterly, Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Life & Times
for formerly Bonnie L. Garcia
and formerly Marci K. Garcia,
with fondness and humility
Holistically speaking, she you divorced
is one fantastic fitch on a quarterly
basis at minimum. That's three months of coerced
servitude, bloody attitude, disorderly
fits of public theatrics, so on and so forth,
for every single frcking year endured
with an egg-shedding nut-cracking whore worth
exactly half of everything procured
by you who's kissed his retirement goodbye
from the couch where you live in your mother's den.
Forget her! You're a peacock primed to fly!
As was I - which is why I get it when
I see a brother, sad and confounded,
that absent his wife, life's a mother; grounded.
This old geezer is multitalented
I'm able to talk and chew gum at the same time
Can even spit nickels while singing Moon River
Okay enough about this talented old soul
I'd like to hear what extraordinary talents you guys have
Let's keep it clean though
Little kiddies or sensitive old nannies
May have stumbled across the site
While searching for a recipe for French Canadian Pea Soup
Raunchy is permitted BUT
Only when describing the love habits
Of the Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats of Australia
Their nose is very important in their survival
Since this creature has very poor eyesight
And needs its nose to smell food and other things in the dark
I have long since had that ability
Now aren't you glad you tuned in
So let me know what weird and scary talents you guys have
And I'll write a poem about it
May even get published in the quarterly edition of “Poetry Weekly”
Ta-Ta!
She is wise in the way that children are wise,
looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes
I must bend down to her to understand.
But she only smiles, and takes my hand.
We are walking somewhere that her feet know to go,
so I smile, and I follow...
And the years are dark creatures concealed in bright leaves
that flutter above us, and what she believes—
I can almost remember—goes something like this:
the prince is a horned toad, awaiting her kiss.
She wiggles and giggles, and all will be well
if only we find him! The woodpecker’s knell
as he hammers the coffin of some dying tree
that once was a fortress to someone like me
rings wildly above us. Some things that we know
we are meant to forget. Life is a bloodletting, maple-syrup-slow.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Boston Poetry Magazine, Famous Poets and Poems, Litera, Poetry Life & Times and Freshet
No new nectar nags naked
Hosting human harmless happy Hades
Jogging jerking Judas' jealous jokes
Keep kiss knot keenly key
Let loose level's lofty leakage
Burning both beauties beds' belief
All ability addle aid's anticipation
Come close captivating Calvary's caution
Wrapped with wholesome working wonders
Demolish delightful demon delaying diamonds
Ice idle illusions impeding innocence
Make melting memories minutes murdered
Eight edible electrons empty echoes
Sleep some secrets smooth silver silence
Greeting goals' gazes grievous goodbye
Xavier xerox xenophobic Xanax xenon
For fools fantasy foes forgiven
Zealously zap zigzag zaftig zeal
Open obfuscate oaths onto obedience
To thrilling triumphant thankful testament
Unto unique ubiquity's undaunted uberty
Padlock persistent pirated peacemaker's power
Yeast yummy youths' years' yoke
Vanish vices' vicious vulnerable vows
Refine rebirth remembrance retiring reinforcement
Quench quarterly quit quickstep quacking
A-Z WAILING...!
All ability addle aid's anticipation
Burning both beauties beds' belief
Come close captivating Calvary's caution
Demolish delightful demon delaying diamonds
Eight edible electrons empty echoes
For fools fantasy foes forgiven
Greeting goals' gazes grievous goodbye
Hosting human harmless happy Hades
Ice idle illusions impeding innocence
Jogging jerking Judas' jealous jokes
Keep kiss knot keenly key
Let loose level's lofty leakage
Make melting memories minutes murdered
No new nectar nags naked
Open obfuscate oaths onto obedience
Padlock persistent pirated peacemaker's power
Quench quarterly quit quickstep quacking
Refine rebirth remembrance retiring reinforcement
Sleep some secrets smooth silver silence
To thrilling triumphant thankful testament
Unto unique ubiquity's undaunted uberty
Vanish vices' vicious vulnerable vows
Wrapped with wholesome working wonders
Xavier xerox xenophobic Xanax xenon
Yeast yummy youths' years' yoke
Zealously zap zigzag zaftig zeal
Lucifer, To The Enola Gay
by Michael R. Burch
Go then,
and give them my meaning
so that their teeming
streets
become my city.
Bring back a pretty
flower—
a chrysanthemum,
perhaps, to bloom
if but an hour,
within a certain room
of mine
where
the sun does not rise or fall,
and the moon,
although it is content to shine,
helps nothing at all.
There,
if I hear the wistful call
of their voices
regretting choices
made
or perhaps not made
in time,
I can look back upon it and recall,
in all
its pale forms sublime,
still
Death will never be holy again.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Penny Dreadful and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: Hiroshima, Enola Gay, atomic bomb, explosion, mushroom cloud, Lucifer, Satan, Devil, chrysanthemum, sun, moon, voices, choices, World War II, war, death, violence, science, power, conflict
How can I teach you to see
the blue of the sky in a hummingbird egg
born to fly as the color does show
or here’s the ocean waves
in your cupped ear
calling to you come away
feel the love and baby born
mother to child
father to her
the hope in the Dawn
of the new day
sorrow at dusk
all not done
can I teach you to hope and feel
to see with your heart
think without thought
words will seek you
Muses will send
teach you to hear
oh how can I
it may be found
somewhere inside
you to set free
you to find
Looking Back, 2018, from this book; The poem 'Teach to Write' used in the Spring 2018, issue of Poetry Quarterly,
The Peripheries of Love
by Michael R. Burch
Through waning afternoons we glide
the watery peripheries of love.
A silence, a quietude falls.
Above us—the sagging pavilions of clouds.
Below us—rough pebbles slowly worn smooth
grate in the gentle turbulence
of yesterday’s forgotten rains.
Later, the moon like a virgin
lifts her stricken white face
and the waters rise
toward some unfathomable shore.
We sway gently in the wake
of what stirs beneath us,
yet leaves us unmoved ...
curiously motionless,
as though twilight might blur
the effects of proximity and distance,
as though love might be near—
as near
as a single cupped tear of resilient dew
or a long-awaited face.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Magazine, Boston Poetry Magazine, Triplopia, Shadows Ink, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Emotions Literary Magazine, Grassroots Poetry, Poetry Webring, Poetically Speaking, The Poetic Muse, Poet’s Haven, Poetic Voices, Nutty Stories (South Africa) and Gostinaya (in a Russian translation by Yelena Dubrovin)
For Those Thrust into War's Maw
by Michael R. Burch
This poem is dedicated to Harvey Stanbrough, an ex-marine who was nominated for the 1999 Pulitzer Prize and has written passionately and eloquently about the horror and absurdity of war in “Lessons for a Barren Population.”
No, I will never know
what you saw or what you felt,
thrust into the maw of Eternity,
watching the mortars nightly
greedily making their rounds,
hearing the soft damp hiss
of men’s souls like helium escaping
their collapsing torn bodies,
or lying alone, feeling the great roar
of your own heart.
But I know:
there is a bitter knowledge
of death I have not achieved,
and in thankful ignorance,
and especially for my son
and for all who benefit so easily
at so unthinkable a price,
I thank you.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetic Reflections and Poetry Super Highway as "Privilege." Keywords/Tags: Vietnam War, marines, military, service, honor, duty, bravery, heroism, maw, mortars, rounds, souls, escaping, bodies, corpses, death, heart, roar, bitter, knowledge, thanks, thank you, war, violence, USA, military, courage, patriotic, hero