Long Quintilla Poems
Long Quintilla Poems. Below are the most popular long Quintilla by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quintilla poems by poem length and keyword.
One day, we’re up, a mindless soul.
Upon rising, we dare extol
a friend with praise on just a whim
and then the next day, slander him.
Behavior talks without control.
Vexation and steadfastness clash
to build impressions made of ash.
Resolve to reach the wiser choice
judicious forethought, then rejoice
beyond just framing photoflash.*
Hail fellow, speak what you believe
and watch your deeds, lest you deceive
by conduct, values you profess.
Caprice, says spider, spins in stress
a whimsy web, not worth the weave.
“photoflash –a brief pulse of high current with little heat.
December 7, 2022
I've discovered why you hate them so:
You felt they delivered you a blow.
Not with sticks and stones; but words indeed
That you let obscure your friends in need
Who sing release when you let hatred go.
What have they done to warrant such disgraces
That you refuse to see their tearful faces.
Did they disobey your sacred rule?
When you offered love, did they act cruel?
Inflict on you a pain that's most invasive?
Now you shut them out of sight and mind.
Only wish that they respond in kind.
Now their gentle voices sound absurd.
Offer solace you do not deserve.
Offer you escape you failed to find.
Give yourself the break you've always earned.
Reason offers you a chance to learn:
You look on a world you felt betrayed
The darkest moral code a cynic craves...
I wait patiently, and voice concern.
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!
WHOSE DEAL?
I went into the wood today
To watch the animals at play.
They didn’t see me hiding there,
The meerkat and the grizzly bear,
The lion and fluorescent jay.
They spread a blanket on the ground
And peacefully they sat around.
A deck of playing cards appeared,
Then, as the time for kick-off neared,
They cut the cards without a sound.
The referee, a mynah bird,
With built-in whistle you’ll have heard,
Said jay and lion won the toss
And, as the lion was the boss,
He dealt the cards and gently purred.
They played the game as best they could,
Although it should be understood
It’s hard to hold the cards in paws
(Or, for the jay of course, it’s claws)
But all-in-all the mood was good.
Until the jay began to sing.
He was winning everything.
But his secret was uncovered
When the other side discovered
Five aces hidden up his wing.
He dropped his cards and flew away
To live to sing another day.
The other three unlikely friends,
Seeking ways to make amends,
Looked for a game that three could play.
I know you think this tale is tall,
Just an imaginary scrawl.
In your position I would too.
Friends, I can only say to you,
I promise that I saw it all.
22nd June 2022
Tall Tales 3 Quintilla poetry contest
Sposor - Jeff Kyser
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
Children Story
These, cacophony that beggars descriptions
Disorder from indecent breed incubating,
Confusion of morals, the imposition of strange culture,
Filthily dressed to undress my mind,
Our teacher teaching theories of writs and wits
These promiscuous pastors parading piety with nudity
Lewd licentious and libidinous species luring laurels with drama,
These traditional priests tutoring the innocent as the skilled orthodox guru
Folly forming and fuming fire on the podium of cerebral
These gangs of immoral breeds hovering over men with enthusiasm
The sick physician administering drugs on the ignorant,
These,
A coup against Coleridge,
Wired Wordsworth,
Barron as Blakes
Shapeless Shakespeare,
With excessive deluxe paint like a red zone hawker,
These fashions clogging the pump of poetic flow
With the garbs of a seductress
Allays my feet to the "gutter-most" pit of whores
These, who feigned folly as fashion forcing Mr Flesh, to a quickie,
Teach me the lyric and lines and morals too
Inspire my curious heart in poetry and NOT the contours of shapeless show
Evoke in me a desire and arouse my intellect and NOT to lust
Induce me with scintillating lyrics and NOT to the nightmare and dreams of a succubus
Tempt my heart to scholastic loyalty and NOT to the apple of Eden
Conjure the parley of mutated minds with words
Come again to the conference in art and rags of skilled minds
I adjure you, be Natural
When a vulture bald and
ugly
Dares to laugh aloud and
smugly
Know your son is gone oh
mother!
Shave the heads of one
another
Pay my fare with goat and
pigeon
Let me roam our forest
region
Lest my soul remain in exile
Where the stars and moon
dare not smile.
These souls they force my
hands to
wrest
Do they not know a mother's
breast?
Are not some eyes dismal
with frown
Praying for these men
trampled
down?
Do they despise tomorrow's
sun?
Or find pleasure before this
gun?
When the vulture bald and
ugly
Dares to sing aloud and
smugly
Know I drown in this blood
river
Not to kill again or shiver.
Waking, I heard a lovely song.
Somehow, the music didn't belong.
Bell-like in tone, to softly please.
Perhaps was only summer's breeze.
Dreamlike music, not lasting long.
I opened blinds and there, askew
pocket-size fairies spritzing dew.
Midst them smiled a green leprechaun.
Their tiny laughter welcomed dawn--
wee pixies only rainbows knew.
Sun starts its rise and day begins.
Their music stops, their graceful spins.
Quickly, they leave in group as one.
In dawns, I search; in wind they've gone.
They filled my dreams with violins.
Originally submitted January, 2022
Totally rewritten June 13, 2022
for Tall Tales Three Fantasy Fiction Contest
by Jeff Kyser
5th place
Trumpeting sounds of elephants
Pleasant rides, tricks, and children’s chants
In a place called Thailandia
The tourists come from Sandia
They visit their uncles and aunts
Ride the bulls, play, touch, watch them paint
Unaware of treatment, restraint
A few people saw the dark side
The brutal industry must hide
You are led into tours quite quaint
Taken away from her mother,
Trained to toil for another
Enslaved as a beast of burden
Sweet baby calf called Lily Len
White as milk, she’s like no other
Len’s father a combat hero
And although she would never know
He, equipped with iron armor
Knee pads, and sounds of drums of war
Strongest was he, true warrior
In colorful costume adorned
For royals to ride she was born
Her spine aches, he is too much weight
Len resigned to this awful fate
Between two worlds she is now torn
Crying for a hopeful sign
Recalls Airvata the divine
He, the legend water child
Len prays to him so beguiled
And in her sleep their souls align
Airvata reaches down with his trunk
To the underworld she’d been sunk
Sucked up and sprays her in a cloud
Awakened she feels safe and proud
Happily sprayed with muddy gunk
Separated at birth, now three
Len is saved, taken to Nuwee
A lovely rainforest in Lanark
Near a river, Phant’s Nature Park
Where she washes, where she roams free
O, elvenstone! O, elvenstone!
O, would that you could be my own.
To quest exhausted, all these years,
And not obtain those pointy ears
To sharpen sense, to hear my phone.
O battle axe! O battle axe!
For thy pursuit, my patience lacks.
Through garbage bins in fishing wharves,
Midst arguments with boorish dwarves;
My neighbor’s tree needs forty whacks.
Fine coat of mail, thy filigree
Would sure enhance the likes of me.
So tightly woven, silver, pale
Protect unwanted barbs’ assail
When getting honey from my bees.
Thou mighty blade, enchanted runes
Do grace thy hilt but not those hewn.
Sure, separating sinew, bone,
Ne’er losing edge in dirt or stone,
When Saturday, the hedge I prune.
I think that we can both agree:
When I immerse in D&D,
I get so caught up in the game,
Imagination is to blame;
Sometimes I blur reality.
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RPG - role playing game - I used to play Dungeons and Dragons some 40 years ago when you used dice and mapped everything out on graph paper. I imagine things have changed a bit since then...