Quaint Poems | Examples

How Quaint

     Ring the bell-hop, how quaint
     Dial the Operator? – Translate! …

     Western Union’s clickety-clack, now faint
     alongside the sensory lure of wet paint

       All of these ~ today, ain’t

A not so quaint Saint'

Poet and saint Dunstan was great, pushed in a cesspool.'
He arose.' He survived he was no fool.' Archbishop  He would be'
Counsel to Kings. Often gave he! humble yet strong he
Ordered lexicons studied songs, grabbed Satan's nose; with
Hot tongs.' From his cell of five feet by three.' He moved
On to Cantebury.'

Sightseeing

He took me sightseeing
Hand in hand
Smiling bright 
Eyes for each other
To the city of his dreams
Navigating the twists and turns of the streets 
Awed by the sights and sounds
The majestic buildings 
Their architectural splendour 
Where history whispers 
And echoes through its corridors 
We stopped by a quaint cafe
Enriched by the experience of it all

A Quaint Tale

               A tale
       laced with arcane, 
   readers hiccup through it;
Quaint text they cannot decipher 
            peeps out.

So Quaint

So quaint the papa
Of the church original 
So loose, the benedictions
From balconies fall.

Hours or minutes
Or seconds or days
End times, ne'er 
So obviously near.

Reguild the lillies
On the Crest of kings,
Approach thou legends 
Within reach of the demons.

So delicate the orator
Of foundation,  lays
Till wisps of sin
Engulf our plane.

Friend or few
Foe or many
On that night we forgot, 
The Saviour descends.

The Quaint Path of Faith

A sinner and saint
Deem equally sacrosanct,
So do the sacred
And profane consecrated,
Is not the path of faith quaint?
______________________________ 
Tanka (Tongue-in-cheek) |09.12.2022| faith

Quaint Coastal Setting

We parked on an old quay
Amidst a quaint coastal setting
Surrounded by platinum clouds
Minds soon interpreting 

In poise our thoughts now action
Thralled by the essence of her perfume 
No longer are we in said quandary
Now down to our birth costumes

Torso's dance in front seat tangle
Steamy windows our canopy hide
Oops! we've gone and hit the handbrake
Into the water our car now rides

Phew! within moments we disembark
Facing the actions of our cahoots
Penance our thoughts now interpret
All a quiver in our birthday suits


Written 18/02/2021

Quaint Cottage

Beholding aspirations of the marigold sky I sailed
As hushed purple dawn was rising above the bay
Glinting platinum hued tides bouncing off the quay 
While the boat turned, in quandary of the unknown,
Cognizant that discarded memories had returned
To quiver bruised emotions on gold dusted ripples. 

Was that you, my dear, longingly saying hello
From our quaint cottage on glazed verdant shore
Crooning praises of your glittering rose bouquet
Where gilded rays refracted, sparkling magenta vase
Sitting atop embroidered tablecloth you made,
Graciously standing there in welcoming poise
Happy that you rearranged life, just as it once was,
Having removed all clues of our interrupted past
When penance of remorse sought brand new start.

I recognized ruby vows you sprinkled on daybreak
Bashful, as twinkles of smile glistened your face, 
Seductive in whiff of perfume blazing memory lane~
Indeed it was you pledging promise of a new day!

February 15, 2021
Placed 3rd: Mind your P’s and Q’s poetry contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner

Quaint Roses

Sarah’s ruby lips were all of a quiver
when she spotted Ted down on the quay
To a platinum blonde he would deliver
a gift Sarah is not yet meant to see

‘Quaint Roses’ is Sarah’s favorite perfume
she’d seen it listed on Ted’s credit card receipt
Sarah’s in a quandary, filled with dread and gloom
at seeing her boyfriend’s such covert deceit

Sarah’s meeting up with Ted and the boys
they’re all planning a trip to Paris in France
In walks the blonde with beauty and poise
she goes and kisses Ted and his pal Lance!

Sarah’s can’t work out what is going on
as Lance’s wife has got short brown hair 
She turns around and sees Ted has gone
down on one knee, Sarah’s now fully aware

Ted hands Sarah her favorite scent
which is tied with an enormous bow
and concealed inside this present
there’s a ring with diamonds in a row

Lance’s wife takes off her blonde wig
Sarah’s face turns a deep shade of red
Ted’s delighted that Sarah didn’t twig
Will she pay penance when they get wed!

Mind Your P's and Q's Poetry Contest
 Required words: 
Penance, Poise, Perfume, Platinum,
Quay, Quiver, Quandary, Quaint

Sponsored by Michelle Faulkner

02/14/21

Quaint Allure

The summer breeze whispers goodbye
 As leaves quiver to its mournful sigh
 Beneath a somber platinum sky
 The perfume from jasmine drifts by

 Autumn's quaint allure belies its sullen mood
 Keeping its poise as seasons unfold
 It's "indian summer" days are winter's prelude
 Caught in a quandary between seasons hot and cold
 
 But autumn's visage shows no penance for summer's end
 As waves rise with the wind by the quay
 The flames of the dying sun soon descend
 As summer slowly fades away

  2-14-21
 Mind Your P's and Q's Contest
 Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner |

Nature's Quaint Rhythm

Autumn's time-worn night,
      charmed by its full moon;
         wisp pleasant cool breeze rose.

   I lie awake In bed, 
      watching out the window,
         as shadows dance across the bed,
           searching for sleep.   

   Perching mockingbirds sing,
      their weft threads carried
         on whisper puff breath

lullabies, by chance,
might put me to sleep.


9/20/2020

Quaint Activity

I didn't trust that I could post strong words
that would import my wish to grant insight
to visions that whirl round within my brain-
by blocking out a common grammar mark.

Oh, words- with such profusion you subsist
apart from using this most basic sign!
I push to find out just how far I'll go,
by working through this quaint activity.

By this third stanza- now I fathom it-
my mind dismissing no-go form of words.
Vocabulary grants broad ways to mold;
much fun it is commanding, shaping it!

At last- a random, abstract notion stirs!
"Must lavish all your days with rightful ways
that bring tranquility to what you do-
by sharing your strong amity and skills."

At last, my skill did fill this task at hand-
as kind, inspiring words impart my thought!
A workaround did soon display pay-off-
and so, this missing part of words- forgot!


July 17, 2020

~10th Place~
Premier Contest: Lipogram Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Judged: 07/27/2020

(Blank Verse /Lipogram No Letter “E” permitted)

How Quaint It Is

it's like a norman rockwell photo
this quaint little town not far away
where white picket fences stand
banners and flags wave in the breeze
every lamppost tells a tale
of their proud, unforgotten heroes
 faces and stories reclaimed
on the same streets they once roamed
it's a happy little town
that bleeds in red, white and blue
where patriotism still stands
on the edge of every street
of this proud american town
remembering those who gave their life
so they could proclaim their freedom

Baby's Quaint Garden

Slumbering baby's feet rest in a quaint garden,
     As their youngest member naps peacefully,
          A wailing baby stirs, ignores looks made silly,
               After a short while, normalcy weighs-in.

               An exuberant baby squirms around,
          As a whimsical garden undress for young sight,
     That being proffered midst an increased, proper light,
Above and under, a baby goes round.

Hush, a ladybug takes flight bouncingly,
     A baby's head progresses upward and around,
          Venturing to detect the beating sound,
               A head steadies, a tiny face powdered with glee.

               Coos, giggles, an orange speck gain the distance,
          A grinning baby receives the same fate,
     While some garden remains behind a closing gate,
And a sun sinks past a white picket fence.


Date: 08/20/2019
Writing Challenge 2, August 2019 - Enclosed Rhyme - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode

Quaint Inanity

Quaint Inanity. 

Sometimes ago I'd thought of the idiosyncratic Shenanigans our politicians  employed  in declaring their manifesto. They're  quite rapscallions. 

Exhibiting hoity-toities during their declarations of flapdoodle, they 
Tune their cozenage to the rhythm 
Of rascality. 

And you see kaleidoscopic legs picking
The nimbus of the elfin music. 

And they're swayed into cotillion till their Fela* commute to dirge. 
      18:07:23:18:52

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