Long Quintain (sicilian) Poems
Long Quintain (sicilian) Poems. Below are the most popular long Quintain (sicilian) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quintain (sicilian) poems by poem length and keyword.
Old Annie has been lying for years
I think it has earned her a degree
She’s so expert at crocodile tears
which will gain her attention you see ...
then her sham illness just disappears!
She’ll google a topical disease
to convince medics that she’s got it
Keyhole surgery on both her knees
faking symptoms, she's not one to quit -
it’s Covid with just one single sneeze!
I can’t understand people who lie
seeking compassion for their fake ills
Then claim state benefits on the sly
faux tablets, mere sugar coated pills
I have just one question to ask - why
Quintain-Sicilian Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
11/10/20
With skilled search plans, maps and watchful scanning eyes,
The packs of hunters and dogs head off into the pine trees,
Scouring the land carefully, as the dogs yelp their cries.
Digging out strange white-brown and black lumps, while on their knees.
Pushing the dogs away as the hunters from the earth they prise.
Beneath the earth, lies this wondrous precious culinary surprise,
A delicacy much cherished, that's more priceless than gold.
Its truffles they're after, lying low in the pine roots there is the prize,
Dogs have been trained to help in the hunt since the days of old.
To sniff about under the trees, for any tell-tale scents that arise.
The truffle unearthed is a strange amorphous, dirty ball.
Belying its splendid aroma and tantalizing taste.
A pile of soil-like lumps pulled from the stumps is the haul.
A harvest, which could so easily be thrown away in haste,
Is this rare delicacy, so much treasured by chefs one and all.
In fancy kitchens everywhere, the magic becomes clear.
From pasta to risotto, sauces and sprinkles, truffles infuse delight,
With masterful hands, the lovely delicate flavors appear
And make every bite a symphony, a culinary trip, a joy-flight.
Savoring the earthy flavor and aroma beloved so dear.
Today commemorates that awful day-
termed nine-eleven, twenty years ago,
when we, in shock, stood helpless in dismay
of what our eyes observed- that terror show;
planes downing our Twin Towers in that way.
So hard to comprehend those loved ones gone,
observing there or from our TV sets,
and praying that firefighters could bear on
to help, but later learned with sad regrets,
that hundreds gave their lives in spite of brawn.
The visions we beheld that dreadful year-
three-thousand dead- can never be erased.
Their families then left to persevere
without dear loved ones- prayed to be embraced
by faith in God to heal their pain and fear.
Today, our fears are bounding once again!
The Afghan warriors were just set free-
ending the war our soldiers died in! Then-
our weapons left behind that now decree-
more fears of future wars; not if- but when.
September 11, 2021
Love's winds were at their crest
when you lost your job.
We did our part; God did the rest;
then our home was robbed.
The winds blew raw; love passed the test.
When the autumn wind is kind
it blows you to my lips;
Winter's wind can bite and grind,
yet our kiss is not eclipsed.
All year long, love's on our mind.
Springtime winds can bless or curse
as true love's flag we hoist.
Through good times and through worse,
in summer's hurricane, rejoice,
day by day, in love immersed.
September 5, 2019
contest: Write the Poem You Have Always Wanted to Write Poetry Contest
hostess: Caren Krutsinger
Little peasants gather fuel.
They stock their homes and gather goods
For they are getting ready for winter's rule.
For so in the deep woods,
Winter can be cruel.
There is snow, cold, and ice that doesn't melt.
The village is swallowed up by the reign of the frost.
Bitter and brutal elements will be felt.
The warmth will then liberate what was taken and lost.
The peasants will rejoice as they outlast what the winter dealt.
Year after year,
Poor peasants endure this savage test.
The worst of the elements will test their fear.
Then the earth revolves bringing warm comfort and rest.
Now the righteous spirits can rest here.
12/3/20
Quintain-Sicilian Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet
Life on Earth is but a brief interlude,
watercolors fading, becoming air.
Yet, loving once surely we could conclude
love is the purpose of our being there.
Night upon night, it's my dreams you intrude.
You thought this was all there was to one's life:
one chance to know beauty and life's wonder.
Sorrow and happiness mingled with strife,
much to be carelessly cast asunder,
as if lopped off by a marauder's knife.
I believe there is more, for I can feel
the touch of your skin brushing against mine.
A different moment on Time's great wheel;
a unique story written line by line,
another life's mysteries become real.
I see us together in boundless space,
your voice whispering love words in my ear.
I'll kiss your lips, caress your whiskered face,
we'll murmur words only spirits can hear.
centuries will pass during our embrace.
I will search for you behind every cloud,
upon every star you might catch a ride.
I'll hear every voice that beckons aloud
until I hear your's and I'm by your side;
we two alone in the afterlife crowd.
October 5, 2021
Quintain (Sicilian)
Emile Pinet, Sponsor
8th Place
Candy canes pranced through his head and made him smile
The dream was the best one he had ever had at the age of three.
Toys of all kinds, lined up in no particular order, extending a mile.
How exciting December was, could a better time ever be?
Christmas was coming, and she would be totally worthwhile.
Trains that blinked as they came around the track, in rank and file.
His visualizations made him chuckle in his sleep with pure glee.
Frosted sugar cookies in the form of snowmen, one that said “Kyle”.
Sweet Christmas, almost here, and better even than the Christmas tree….
Santa Claus’s voice he could hear with just a touch of a dial!
Written 12-6-2020
Contest: Quintain-Sicilian
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
A sudden darkness veiled the world below.
Luna was defused by a shadowed sky,
giving cause for Earth to be wrought with woe.
Something strange caused the night to go awry
as a shroud covered moonlight's golden glow.
My pulse quickened at the phenomenon.
I inhaled the floral scent of roses.
Snowflakes drifted over garden and lawn.
Like a fairytale that one composes,
it was a magical scene to dwell on.
Stars were dancing around the somber moon.
The brightest ones provided enough light
to see them twirling to a rhytmic tune.
What a spectacle I witnessed tonight;
stars waltzing and snow in the month of June!
With drooping eyelids, I soon fell asleep,
awakened when dawn's fingers touched my face.
At the window I sat, ready to weep.
Of snow and roses, there was not a trace.
The tale of last night I'll secretly keep.
December 1, 2020
Quintain - Sicilian Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Lord, teach me to evaluate before I vacate
Teach me to treasure challenges in route to my destiny
Teach me to value debate in trying to educate
Teach me to appreciate my friends and love my enemy
Before I escape, teach me to be still and meditate
Let not my sleep be a runaway ticket from reality
Teach me to appreciate both roses and thorns in my pathway
I am amazed when look up into your vast domain and galaxy
Open my eyes, my ears, my heart, and my mind to you each day
Whatever comes or goes, teach me to trust in thee
One great lesson taught to me is the lesson from the tree.
Enable me to release to others the love and forgiveness you give to me
It amazes me how carbon dioxide goes into trees and oxygen is released
Like the tree, keep me with the ability to be the person you made me to be.
And Lord, I'm grateful that it's really true that the best things in life are free.
071123PS
So is she seen with innocence unmarred
to shun the eyes of those taken with her
to flaunt her beauty without fair regard
her perfume to him but a sweet liqueur
lust hoisting him upon his own petard
Whilst in her heart she knows her visage lies
unable to return the ling’ring gaze
for fear that to him she is but a prize
his quest to set her innocence ablaze
knowing her sinlessness is but a guise
For she so knows the vanity of men
that they will overlook a lover’s scars
make promises and return not again
while bragging of their conquest in dim bars
regale them of her beauty and her sin
9/2/2021
Quintain (Sicilian) Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet - sponsor