Kids Quatern Poems | Examples
These Kids Quatern poems are examples of Quatern poems about Kids. These are the best examples of Quatern Kids poems written by international poets.
Ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Fanning breath stirs the heavily laden;
transforms and redraws like playful charades,
prepping, and grooming, all the misshapen.
A pastor's mural paints pure from trespass,
ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Prismatic design grounds tell-tale stained glass
and forest steeples are Redwood's crusades.
Kids taking the plunge, multihued cascades,
succumb to trampling and crushing horseplay.
Ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades,
the bejeweled waits: Sunday's white bouquet.
Awe striking vista blessing amble eyes,
bounteous nostalgia praising persuades.
Peace thine harmonious artwork baptize,
ever-changing Autumn, its shapes and shades.
Some kids are dreading going back to school
They fear running into those who bullied them
Anxiety is heightened by puberty’s demands,
The feeling that no adult really understands.
While many are excited getting back to friends
Some kids are dreading going back to school,
Facing pressures from the unfamiliar routines
Such is the lot of today’s technical-savvy teens.
Feeling threatened in once a safe environment
Bludgeoned with peer pressure and new rules,
Some kids are dreading going back to school,
Concerned someone might label them a fool.
Not knowing exactly whom they can trust
Hoping to make a friend, someone to talk to
Who’ll have their back, who is incredibly cool,
Some kids are dreading going back to school.
Written August 1, 2022
Does anybody out there care
that the world is falling apart?
And kids get shot and killed in schools
by other children, toting guns.
Politicians are liars: yet
does anybody out there care?
They'll let climate change ravage our
overpopulated planet.
As human interactions wane,
folks connect through the internet.
Does anybody out there care
about social skills anymore?
Scientists forecast droughts and plagues,
and still, no one seems that concerned.
Given the fact that all could die,
does anybody out there care?
Darkness, the day she went away,
perpetual rain claimed his heart.
“Hope” her prognosis didn’t sway;
misty mournings, being apart.
His reason for being she was.
Darkness, the day she went away,
his fragile heart came to a pause.
Erased were hopes for one more day.
Laughter he heard from kids at play;
their joy could not revive his dream.
Darkness, the day she went away,
he recalled hearing seagulls scream.
He looked to heaven, asking why
there was naught he could do or say.
Tears still fell as sunset drew nigh;
darkness, the day she went away.
In this father’s mind, there is no other kind
Of noises that so resemble love
As the sounds that come from there, atop of the stairs
The patter of footsteps from above.
They’re scurrying about, the youngest one will shout
His sister just gave him a shove
Then she’ll plead her case, “Dad, he’s in my face”,
The patter of footsteps from above.
I know that one day, those noises will fade,
The patter of footsteps from above,
As the children grow old and their future is told,
And they vacate the nest like a dove.
But one day it’ll be back, from their own kids in fact,
The patter of footsteps from above,
When they come see granddad, and again I’ll be glad,
To hear those sounds I love coming from above.