Kids Quatrain Poems | Examples
These Kids Quatrain poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Kids. These are the best examples of Quatrain Kids poems written by international poets.
The paper sack left on the floor
has come to life. It’s haunted. Look!
It’s growling and gyrating now—
gone wild. It’s time somebody took
control. Aha! I’ve got ya now,
my little kitties in the sack.
I’ll get your lunch now, Pat and Pete.
Okay, I’ll let you ride my back.
Ouch! Watch the claws. They really hurt.
I’ll put thick blankets on my lap.
Then you can be so comfy but
won’t draw blood. Soon we’ll take our nap.
You’re fighting for the bouncy ball.
Sometimes you’re an aggressive pair;
but, after all, you’re little ones.
Sometimes my human kids won’t share!
Don’t climb the curtains, Pat. Oh, Pete,
you’ve overturned the water dish.
I see what y’all are staring at.
You can’t get to the kids’ goldfish!
You’re so much like the kids when they
were small—just into everything.
When they get home from school, we five
will have ourselves a happy fling.
A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance
to your steps, as you walk the tightrope of life.
Quote By William Arthur Ward
We were young and filled with responsibilities
new to town, married and in our early twenties
My husband needed surgery and I didn't drive
with two small kids I had to find a way to jive
When I got to the hospital I bought him a souvenir
one big fury ape with a grin that said, "I'm here! "
He wasn't in bed so I put the ape in bed instead
a nurse came in, she almost fell over with dread
He came out of the washroom and found it there
when it comes to humor we make quite a pair
He soon recovered and the ape came live with us
I took driving lessons, now I don't take the bus
This is a true story of how I used humor to cope
years have come and gone still I climb the slope
Using humor in a crisis can surely help my dear,
it can ease the soul and help you when you fear.
On the shore sun tanner's bathing
Boating people, passing; waving
Seashell looking- children explore
Sun tanner's bathing on the shore
Summertime house rental booking
Children explore- seashell looking
Sipping sea breezes with my spouse
Rental booking summertime house
Kids licking flavored ice freezes
With my spouse sipping sea breezes
Having fun when the sun is ticking
flavored ice freezes- kids licking
Spending my summer in the sun
When the clock is ticking, having fun
No way can this be a bummer
In the sun spending my summer
I love the sights of Christmastime
from manger scenes to mistletoe.
Sweet, joyous sounds pervade the air
from "Praise the Lord" to "HO HO HO!"
I give to those who are in need,
for God says, "Love your fellow man."
Then when I shop for family,
I buy them every gift I can.
The carolers and choirs perform
"O Holy Night" and "We Three Kings,"
while celebrants in living rooms
sing tunes about what Santa brings.
A prayer precedes our Christmas feast;
the smorgasbord brings great delight.
The kids soon snuggle near the fire
enrapt as Dad starts, "'Twas the Night . . . “
This season is a splendid time
that bears a special, holy name,
so as I smile through "Jingle Bells,"
I won't forget why Jesus came.
The space between stars is not empty
though JLo and Ben’s might be dead.
It seems that they can’t sell their mansion,
‘cuz who wants an unlucky bed?
The kids wish the stars kept their distance
like diddling P. Diddy, right?
But they’d offer little resistance
if stars got assaulted at night.
The space between stars is not empty,
but the distance, exceedingly great.
There’s pervy and curvy b-listers,
but not many good ones of late.
----------
Prospecting for gold
in a mosquito-infested ravine
The junior explorers all mighty keen
to prove their skeptics curmudgeony scolds
And sure enough, they return all gap-toothed smiles
pans overflowing with rare and precious gems
The kind prospectors turn up in sequestered mountain glens
at the bottom of creeks that twist and turn for miles
Old-timers gawk at the kids in wonder
their colored stones, all shapes and sizes
containing abundant suspicious surprises
~ Whose rock garden did these little ones plunder
Because God loved the world, He sent His Son
to be the sacrifice for sinful man.
Belief in Christ as Savior guarantees
a home in Heaven. This is God’s firm plan.*
Just as He cares about our afterlife,
God cares about our time here on the Earth.
It’s His desire to guide and bless each life,
for each of us, to Him, is of great worth.
God loves all people—those still in the womb;
the terminal, aware the end is near;
those challenged with afflictions of the mind
and body; those whose days are steeped in fear.
He loves the ones distraught enough to take
the lives He gave them, which He would redeem
with love from that deep pit in which they’re trapped.**
His power to repair lives is supreme.
I live a life worth living, as do you,
the kids next door, the widow down the street,
the homeless, those who dwell in prison cells,
and famous people we will never meet.
The world may see some lives as more important
than others, but we know God’s thoughts and ways
aren’t ours.*** All lives are equal in His eyes.
For this sweet gift of life, let’s give Him praise.
*John 3:16 **Psalm 103: 4 ***Isaiah 5: 8 and 9
What happens to all the oranges
hanging on my neighbors' trees
would they let me have a bag of em
if I bargained or said pretty please
Why are all the fruit-tree houses near
the Sharing Shelf not sharing any
or perhaps i'm too slow and miss
the time when they donate many
Or do they sell them to the markets
or give them to far-off food banks
someday maybe I'll grow my own tree
full of juicy oranges, and join their ranks
Add to that a lawn-to-garden meadow
sprinkled with wildflowers -- my fantasy
and a Little Free Library of only-kids books
in a tiny uncluttered home by the sea
But not the beach -- they're too scantily clad
...I guess I could grow one from seeds, now
without having to move out for this plan to work
I'd share as many oranges as the tree will allow
World War 3, if such a war would happen,
will probably not be what we expect.
A war is being waged right now, and yet,
by many, it is not even suspect.
A Trojan horse I’d say that it resembles.
It looks so nice that it’s got good folks fooled.
While those aware of it spill wisdom’s words,
their thoughts are disbelieved. They’re ridiculed.
The kids in schools in nearly all the world
are being taught new ways. These ways seem sweet.
They cancel culture, rewrite history,
and do not care for concepts like “compete.”
They put their propaganda on the news,
on the internet, and in the movies too.
They’d have us all live in a New World Order
where things against our will we’d be forced to do.
They have a goal to make us all be cashless,
dependent on them – freedoms stripped away.
It’s not a war with bombing or live combat.
They want us under their deceptive sway.
This “war” we’re part of has been planned for years,
and in my country, China has been taking
our land and money. Communism’s creeping.
Alas, we’ll fall unless all start awaking!
A loving son held Mama's hand
and said, "We've such sweet memories.
If you feel strong enough today,
I'd love to hear your favorites, please."
Then like an eager child he leaned
a little closer. Mama said,
"My precious times with all you kids
and your sweet daddy fill my head:
the picnics Sunday afternoons,
the games of tag and hide-and-seek,
sweet watermelons in July,
and wading in our backyard creek.
Your daddy held us spellbound with
his yarns; he spun them on the spot.
We watched old Westerns; I recall
how you loved Tonto as a tot.
(Her voice grew weaker.) What we had
was something money cannot buy.
Those simple pleasures are the best--
I'm ready, Son, so please don't cry."
Sunk comfortably aloof in his mauve reading chair
Dad's evening reverie; pipe, cheese, crackers and book
His world vanished in smoke swirling into the air
For his family; an occasional vacant look
Yet he'd take time to spin me a bedtime story
Of enchanted lands and daring schemes
Flights of fancy depicting heroic glory
Betraying his real life's unmet dreams
My dad's inner home, the one he preferred
Was far from our world's cruel, petty strife
His family and solace was the written word
Though he was good to his kids and true to his wife
This world was too much with him somehow
A scathingly mean-spirited bother
But I just remember his soft kindness now
Blessed to have had such a father
Fake admirers of John Keats are spotted,
To check out if their luck goes as plotted,
Accepted the challenge,
They were so brave,
But they turned out to be kindergarten kids, so naive,
How come a person claims to be Keats' admirer?
If he hasn't faced the pain and is not a survivor,
Whoever hasn't read John Keats' letters,
Should be tied with a long chain of fetters.
The philosophers in this group drowned and dead,
They'd found a purpose in Lela, or their beloved,
When asked a question about Keats, they fell to the ground,
Some were bold enough to answer; the rest made no sound.
Written in response to questions asked to John Keat's admirers.
“The US First Cavalry arrived in Manila on February 3, 1945; it proceeded to Santo Tomas University north of the Pasig River, where 3,785 Allied civilian prisoners of war had been kept for over three years”
from internet article: Liberation of the Philippines 1945
Twelve years in a Chinese mission
followed by three years in prison
with over three thousand others,
me, mom, four sisters, two brothers.
Daddy had been killed in Hong Kong;
a fact we didn’t know for too long.
Funereal time: nightmarish
February 3, (1945) we cherish.
Back in America, time passed;
Mom ran an orphanage at last;
Her kids, her finest residents;
seven lives, the best evidence.
Some seventy-eight years later
back home now with my Creator
Funeral time: celebration
February 3, (2023); it's done.
written: February 17, 2023
Sponsor Constance La France
Contest Name Writing Challenge -F Words
I imagine that somewhere... exists---
(I'm not sure, but my theory persists)
Moms who read --what their kids read-- from school
Then... :-) they book-club about it -- how cool!!! :-D
His sad heart broke into pieces,
Every time someone declared "no",
No one wished to marry a clown,
But they all enjoyed his joke show,
With sad eyes, he hid behind smiles,
Keeping his broken heart hidden,
For a clown is supposed to make
Them laugh, and tears are forbidden,
His life, he spent cheering up kids,
But he would have none of his own,
His feelings in tatters, he grinned
Outside, while he felt all alone,
Thus, he died of a shattered heart,
Closed his forlorn eyes forever,
Left behind a smiling bequest,
But true love he attained never.
3rd January 2023
"Tatters" contest
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