Last Commented Quatrain Poems (302)

to decide how things must be
or tell you what is best for you, nor
clothes of a bystander wear, watching silently
while you are threatened or killed.

So, in your life, what role do I play?
How does one make a difference
but not get in your life’s way?
Questions that haunt are deeply instilled.

Searching for answers, pecking the keys
to type paved pathways to freedom
Doors and hearts opened, fingers squeezed
back-spacing over hatred, a better life to build.

With wounds and demons to fight
both from within and without, all
as our circle closes tightly, under harsh light,
ozone comes through holes waiting to be filled.

Though within the spectrum of light lies,
within its whiteness, colors, we cannot see
those bands of caring that span the skies
until by refraction rainbow-beauty is spilled.

While it is not for me to decide
or to tell you what is best for you
It is for me with you to abide
together, by beveled mirror, revealed.

Assailed by the mist and chill
Day is dawning cool and damp
Coffee warm I drink my fill
As dimness hovers over camp

Another day behind me now
Another day before me still
To slog on upward, aching
On this quest toward the hill

My feet they feel so heavy
But I know I cannot tarry
There's naught to do but climb
For there are things that I must carry.

One day I'll look behind me
As I've cleared the hill ahead
And it will be then worth the cost
But the time till then I dread.

Nothing good is had with ease
This quest is no exception
And I only need to keep my trek
Onward, in the right direction

Long gray day before me
Long gray day behind me
One less than the day before
Till my angel's light shall find me.

three people read my poem a day
shit that's three more than none
WELCOME TO MY NEW HOME

Welcome here you all
And my, you got so tall
Mom, your hair looks great
As usual dad is late

Latently late on such a day
He hasn’t seen me since I went away
Dad’s hip hurts and his hair is turning gray
But the game of my being ever wrong he’ll still play

Mom, how’s Aunt Sally and Uncle Joe
I know both of them move very slow
Their son Derrick comes to visit when he’s able
And he brings along his girlfriend named Mable

So tell me is the house in good shape?
And how about that lovely landscape?
I always loved that 300 year old oak
And when I was a child I believed that tree and me spoke

So Derrick, you knew the tree with wisdom one learns not in school?
It said “Sometimes one must but it’s better never to break a rule
But I wouldn’t listen to the old oak tree whenever it spoke to me
And that’s why I’m behind bars for twenty to thirty-three
© 2011.…~free cee!

Trudged outside to drive to work
Warmed the car and applied some torque
Wheels spinning and going nowhere
Except downwards until I didn't care

Seems I'm stuck I saddly lamented
A mild spell made snow soft I vented
What should I do now I thought
Phone in to work and explain I ought

Whatever will I do with myself today
For in my house I am forced to stay
Well I'll happily while away the hours
Go to PC before my disposition sours

A happy place where I may jest and fun
Somewhere they laugh at my bad puns
A place where people always lend a hand
No buried heads in the pages or the sand

A wondrous place of creativity and mirth
Simply not like any other on this earth
Where kindness and sympathy abides
Understanding as constant as the tides

A place where the sun is always shining
They gladly listen to my constant wining
A place where people are reaching out
Sanctuary where I can scream and shout

Now that I've got your attention
Glorified all as helpful by intention
Do you consider it less than absurb
Could you all push my car past the curb??

I HOPE YOU PEOPLE ARE PAYING ATTENTION TO HOW A GREAT POET, SUCH AS I, KEEPS THE PEOPLE'S ATTENTION, BECAUSE OFTEN WHEN I CAN'T GO TO SLEEP I LOG ON TO THIS PAGE AND THE BOREDOM OF MOST OF THE POEMS LULLS ME GENTLY TO SLEEP

TWO OF THIS BUT ONLY ONE OF THOSE

Four white wall tires and one white whale
One tuxedo and a ripped and ragged sail
Four cops, and one criminal in jail
A hundred bucks in my pocket but it’s two hundred for bail

A pair of doves and peace declared from above
A hundred eighty pushes but only one shove
Some salt on the table but assault is a whole different thing
Three thousand copper bracelets but only one real diamond ring

Steal a bit of time and steal that one real diamond ring
White picket fences and a fence that will buy almost anything
One cerulean blue sky beset by a single cloud
One silent prayer but ten million said aloud

Let me take you to wherein oppression ends
Ain’t no such place in a world of a hundred enemies and only two friends
Oppression leads to depression and depression leads to death
Now breathe deeply for the doctor and take your last sacred breath
© 2011.…~free cee!~
POETS CAN ONLY BE DECLARED POETS WHEN POETRY IS THEIR MAIN CONCERN, AND NOT JUST TO TAKE UP THE LONELY SPACES OF TIME BUT TO TRY AND MAKE YOURELF MORE PLEASANT---AIN'T NO CHANCE OF THAT HAPPENING, CUZ U AIN'T FORGIVING AND YOU AIN'T A POET....BUT THEN AGAIN, WHAT WOULD MAKE ME THINK I AM AWARE AWARE AWARE AWARE AWARE OG ANYTHING....YOURS IN BORDOM, BELEAGUERMENT AND BEASTS THAT EAT ONE'S BRAINS OUT, GOING FROM THE MADULLA OBLONGATA TO ~~free cee!~

I do love you so
But where have you gone?
I do love you
And it must be so wrong

I got up this morning
You were nowhere my mate
I fell ill in my mouring
For we were to have a first date

I missed you so much
And you caused me great pain
The emptiness as such
I could surely never ever faign

I started to dress as all grew slack
Could find you no where
Singles of blue, brown and black
My face a lonely blank stare

Where is my colourful mate
To even one of my lovely socks
I lament and anxiously state
I'm derranged and in shock

Thirty singles for a single foot
I can't understand a stitch
Who could have gave you the boot
Nothing to wear what a botch

I searched the old dryer
I even searched the washer too
Things have gotten dire
What is a sockless man to do

Matched them up for size
One black and one blue
Fear in my shocked eyes
Traumatized with first coffee with you

rewritten in 50-word rhyme


Bold feathers reflecting sunbeams red
in flight’s pattern to elude
small, winged force of nature did
swoop, outsized, generations to protect, obtrude
diving hard into vulnerability, unseen but surely felt
to distract from its future’s cradled heart
dark, small, unrelenting, each blow it dealt
until regal red-tailed intruder did depart.

Following thirty years
of power building, rife
with billions taken from
the people, land and life

Soles now upturned
facing toward heaven’s light
LEAVE spelling out dis-
respect through all the strife

A nation’s self-portrait
Tahrir Square rounding out
hope captured in hands
upholding freedom’s shout

Shoes held high, speaking
the people and army stand
together as one, answers
awaited by prayers’ demand

Six-0-three pm with
Sunset prayers ended
as strangers hugged and
roars, heard, ascended

Power transferred from
Mubarak to the people’s pride
as proudly Egyptians honor
those many who have died

Peaceful strength, humor laced,
dictator’s reign did cease.
May those who liberated now
govern this nation in peace.

SHE SAT ON HER BED, HE IN THE DEN
SHE WITH A BOOK, HE WITH A PEN
SHE WAS READING ABOUT LETHAL DRUGS AND THEIR USE
WHILE HE SAT WRITING A SINCERE YET FAR-FETCHED EXCUSE

SHE CAME DOWN AND SET THE TABLE
WHILE HE DID WHATEVER HE WAS ABLE
BOTH HAD SOMETHING TO SAY THAT WAS REAL
BUT FIRST THEY WOULD EACH SHARE A MEAL

A YOUNG ROASTED LAMB, PEAS AND CARROTS
AND THEN BOTH BEGAN TO SPEAK OF THEIR HABITS
HER'S WERE BENIGN BUT HIS WAS OF GREAT CONCERN
AND BOTH PARTNERS HAD A LOT TO LEARN

SHE HAD A PROBLEM WHICH HAPPENED TO BE HIM
AND HOW THEIR FUTURE SEEMED FAR TOO DIM
THEY USED SOME MONEY TO DRESS THE LADY WITH CHARM
SOME FOR RENT, FOOD AND THE REST TO SHOOT UP HIS ARM

UNFORTUNATELY THERE WOULD BE NO COMPROMISE
FOR SHE WAS INTELLIGENT, HE NOT QUITE AS WISE
SHE DEMANDED AN END TO HIS DRUG ABUSE
AND STOP USING THAT WHICH SHE DEEMED REFUSE

FOR TRASH IT WAS TO A LADY SO SWEET
BUT HE SO ACRID AND INDISCREET
SO BOTH CLIMBED THE STAIRS AND INTO THEIR ROOM
SHE TO PACK HER BAGS AND HE TO RESUME HIS DOOM


DIVERGENT NEEDS WOULD KEEP THEM APART
SHE SO SOFT AND HE WITH HIS HARDENED HEART
SHE PACKED HER BAGS AS HE USED THE BATHROOM BUT NOT AS A JOHN
THEN HE AROSE FROM THE TILE AND TURNED THE KNOB ONLY TO FIND HER GONE

IT HURTS TO RECOLLECT THIS SORDID STORY
AND UNFORTUNATELY IT WAS NO ALLEGORY
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD IT WAS AGONY
FOR SHE WAS LOVELY SHE AND I WAS A DESPERATE ME
(C) 2011...~free cee!~
author's note....it is acceptable for James Taylor to rhyme Boston with frostin' because in song it sounds okay. However, when someone, no names mentioned, uses the word "oughter" and jams it into a poem to rhyme with "daughter" that person should take at least one year of Analytical Poetry (i took two) or abandon poetry for prose.....does anyone remember the word "order?" This is only my opinion and you can take it from whence it came. ~f.C.!~

a 17 year old white kid shouldn't be in such a place
and shouldn't be in such a lady's embrace
yet there strolled I in the darkness of desperation
and all too soon mine became a hazardous occupation

my eyes saw the midnight moon but it mattered not
i went there whether the weather was frigid or hot
walking amongst people so different from me
yet that lady would allow none of us to live free

my eyes widened when I saw what lay straight ahead
a lady that could leave me comatose or dead
yet a 17 year old white boy sat on the street
craving in the cold and searching in the scortching heat

a 17 year old white boy shouldn't be there
and back then that lady filled people with fear
but i needed immediate relief only she could provide
as I continued to let the lady become my only guide

all those years ago among friends I was the only one
and day by day heroin had me on the run
seeking on corners and looking in bars
while a white boy in Harlem may as well have been on Mars

I was a stranger meeting strangers by the score
and that's what I'd done a hundred times or more
because no matter what was happening the lady displayed her charm
and she grew more grievous with every shot in my arm
(c) ~free cee!~
P.S. did you people know that the only adjective in the English language that cannot be modified by an adverb is the word "unique"....like she's either unique or she ain't unique, if one chooses to adhere to the rules my creative writing professor in my second and last year of college told me, "free, if you want to adhere to the rules you won't say VERY unique" So I don't. and I find that unique....as in a unique eunich