Food Quatern Poems | Examples
These Food Quatern poems are examples of Quatern poems about Food. These are the best examples of Quatern Food poems written by international poets.
The Quatern poem's a special blend
with stages that are layered well.
First line is one that, till the end,
will make the flavor grow and swell.
The ending sound of other lines
should match each other, two by two.
Then broken up at certain signs,
line one repeats its flavor too.
This mix creates a certain flow
of flavors that enriches taste.
So easy to digest and show
when taken in, there is no waste.
With stages that are layered well,
first line is one that, till the end,
will make the flavor grow and swell.
The Quatern poem's a special blend.
CockaLeekie
I love my cockaleekie,
and if I could have my way.
I’d have my cockaleekie,
almost each and every day.
I love my cockaleekie,
and to it I will be true.
For in my cockaleekie,
only the best cocks will do.
I love my cockaleekie,
in the morning noon and night.
I want my cockaleekie,
with black prunes so sweet and bright.
I love my cockaleekie,
and if I could have my way.
I’d have my cockaleekie,
almost each and every day.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
The morning sun is peeking in,
last night was a hot SLUMBER night.
Be gone hot summer days and nights,
the cool autumn is dancing in.
I dress for the busy work day,
hearing the sound of a GUITAR.
What is in the hot MISTY air,
making me full with deep sadness.
As I leave for the day WEARY,
I smell the sweet purple LILACS.
A beautiful morning flower,
for the butterflies to enjoy.
Can I CAJOLE you to make lunch,
ETCHING memories from my youth.
What a heavenly home cooked meal,
now filled with love I can just SIGH.
What seems an impossible feat
of forte and noble resolve
to boldly face the bitter gale,
a smallish bird feathers the wind.
His wildly beating wings afford
what seems an impossible feat
of willfulness against his foe,
as he hunts for suitable prey.
He hovers so he can find his
preferred meal scuttling around in
what seems an impossible feat
to escape the eyes of the bird.
Such beauty in nature is rare
and one should be awed by the sight
of the kestrel’s stamina in
what seems an impossible feat.
Enlightenment recovery is what some need
once they’ve faced a visit to ER.
Some go there with broken bones; some bleed.
And some may leave, yet always keep a scar.
For some – beyond the physical it goes.
Enlightenment recovery they need,
for visits to ER sometimes can expose
things from which the afflicted must be freed.
If bad habits are the things that lead
some to a hospital emergency,
enlightenment recovery is what some need.
They should heed this warning with urgency!
Maybe there are bad things folks have pursued
that cause their health to worsen with great speed.
Treat the body right. Also eat good food.
Enlightenment recovery is what some need.
Oct. 23, 2022
For Chantelle Anne Cooke's Er: Enlightenment Recovery Poetry Contest
While homeless people beg for food;
partiers celebrate New Year's Eve.
Cheerful festivities flourish;
only steps from empty bellies.
Drunk revelers sing Auld Lang Syne
while homeless people beg for food.
Happy hugs and midnight kisses;
are juxtaposed by poverty.
The haves, helping out the have-nots;
was last year's failed resolution.
While homeless people beg for food:
they're kept discreetly out of sight.
Friends ply guests with delicacies
and large amounts of alcohol.
And by midnight, they're vomiting:
while homeless people beg for food.
I question the concept of God:
when the world engages in war.
There's no food to feed the starving:
yet plenty of guns to kill them.
After seeing hate run rampant,
I question the concept of God.
For He supposedly loves us:
yet sends souls to Hell forever.
History debunked ancient Gods
held up to ridicule today.
I question the concept of God:
there are so many to choose from.
I do not disparage belief;
or those who find comfort in faith.
In this technological time,
I question the concept of God.
It's not personal, it's business,
says the guy overcharging you.
Knowing you'll begrudgingly pay:
they keep squeezing until you're broke.
You cringe inside each time you hear:
it's not personal, it's business.
And yet, partial payments increase
the amount owed on their ledger.
With no job, you live off food banks
and grift on the street for your rent.
It's not personal, it's business;
doesn't help when your hydro gets cut.
Society's a heartless beast;
that chews up souls and spits them out.
And as life beats you down, you hear
it's not personal, it's business.
Not bothered by gluttony, bring me pie
Warm cookies, brownies, cake, frosted and sweet
I love the good stuff, and I will not lie
Give me honey, syrup, a daily treat
I would like to try new things. I truly would.
Not bothered by gluttony, bring me pie.
If you would like to and if you would,
Orange honey biscuits please, before I die.
Just thinking of these biscuits makes me sigh.
I had one once with chamomile tea.
Not bothered by gluttony, bring me pie.
Thoroughly satisfying, they can be.
Line up your best desserts, all down the line.
Cinnamon rolls? Sure. I’ll give them a try.
My metabolism is truly fine.
Not bothered by gluttony, bring me pie.
When through the keyhole he did peep,
he saw his parents on their bed.
He thought that they would be asleep.
But something else he saw instead.
He thought they’d heard him at the door
when through the keyhole he did peep.
He ran away in silence, for
he feared to be in trouble deep.
He’d seen them lying with a heap
of snacks he’d never known about.
When through the keyhole he did peep,
at last their secret he found out!
“No chips or cookies given me,”
their young son thought, “they are so cheap!”
What awesome junk food he could see
when through the keyhole he did peep.
Jan. 22, 2019 for John Lawless' Slap Muse And Turn It Loose Poetry Contest
I smell hamburgers on the grill
their sizzle sounds scrumpdillyicious.
And I can't wait to sink my teeth
into a rare barbeque treat.
At my favorite picnic spot
I smell hamburgers on the grill.
And my skin gets tanned by the sun
as I walk shirtless on the beach.
The flowers are all in full bloom
spiking the air with summer scents.
I smell hamburgers on the grill
and my mouth begins to water.
My children are playing baseball
and my wife is hosing them down.
But, I'm off in my own world...for
I smell hamburgers on the grill.
(Quatern)
June 14, 2018
Summer Fun Poetry Contest
Nayda Ivette Negron
The truth stood downcast in the lie
I know you’ve fibbed; I have the proof
You cannot look me in the eye
Still adamant you told the truth
I love to watch you backpedal
The truth stood downcast in the lie
Don’t lie to me… there’s no medal
Your mum you think you can defy
Did you eat all the apple pie?
(Crumbs are visible on your face)
The truth stood downcast in the lie
You grin and say the pie was ace!
You say sorry, and then we hug,
Your hunger you did satisfy
I ask you did you eat the slug!
The truth stood downcast in the lie
The truth stood downcast in the lie contest Sponsored by John Lawless
Title of the poem is from a line from 'Lyin Eyes' by the Eagles
32 syllables per stanza checked with how many syllables
07/27/16
Thankful for bountiful blessings,
We gather on Thanksgiving Day
To feast on the gathered harvest.
This is the American way.
We gather on Thanksgiving Day
With all the dear folks we love most.
We each bring our favorite food
To help out our hardworking host.
To feast on our gathered harvest
Is a right that we gladly share,
As we all humbly bow our heads,
Thanking God for His tender care.
This is the American way,
Thanksgiving is a holiday,
Coming fourth week of November
When the harvest is stored away.
.
In A Dark, Dark Room
Tormented in a dark, dark room--
Smelling the foulness in the ground;
Flickering shadows in the gloom
That feed upon me, all around
Bound hand and foot, with neck exposed,
Tormented in a dark, dark room,
I only slept, when coffins closed,
With nightmares of impending doom.
I heard above a muffled boom
My eyes assaulted by the light
Tormented in a dark, dark room
Never more will I fear the night
I signed on with Van Helsings Free,
Hunting vampires from tomb to tomb.
I rescue others, lost like me--
Tormented in a dark, dark room
A true friend gives what is needed.
One may not know him as a friend;
do as the Good Samaritan,
healing aid readily extend.
The bond may not be direct. He,
a true friend, gives what is needed.
Kindness distributed can be
tender words, food to eat, money.
Compassion, more than being nice,
is a golden commodity
a true friend gives. What is needed
are more willing to sacrifice.
Invest true measures of yourself--
patient love--into those you meet;
these words have worth! Dare I repeat,
a true friend gives what is needed.
Copyright, July 15, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
For Random Acts of Kindness Contest
Debbie Guzzi, sponsor