Most Commented Quatrain Poems (302)

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Big guys with chainsaws revving loud,
Fake blood and spiders hanging down,
Screams and eerie music blaring,
Sheets floating cross the "haunted" town.

These places don't do much for me,
Guess kids are more who they are for.
My mem'ries are of dressing up,
And traipsing, begging door to door.

Course we had to soap some windows,
Or TP houses without light.
Up and down the blocks we hurried,
With candy on our minds that night.

When all the goodies had been got,
And all the pumpkins' candles gone,
We'd drag our bags back home again,
While vainly trying not to yawn.

Now's my turn to carve the pumpkin,
And hand out goodies at the door.
But very few come round it seems,
The spirit's gone forevermore...

friendship remains for D and C
with the balance of power shifted
new life into the mixture has come
with happiness to be gifted

though it was just at tips of fingers
there is no rest for R and R
yet the aroma of love still lingers
baked goodness dripping from a star

T partially consumed by S
J nearly done in by K
alphabet of love failures
on the heart doth heavily weigh

cell turned against itself
to destroy from inside out
love’s loss it was that turned the switch
research will prove, no doubt

overwhelmed by grief of loss
sleep tossed from night to day
time would turn quickly for one
the other later would have to pay

T swept up by love of M
who proved to be the one
J dangles without letter to come
match step-for-step life’s fun

blizzard flakes of besotted love
fall from heaven and blanket ground
obstructed view by clouds above
storms continuing to surround

waiting for love in stormy weather
swirling snowflakes strike the cheek
‘til love returns and makes life better
wait, a new year starts this week

Honesty is the best policy
That's a lesson I was taught at school
But today in a world of trickery
Is that merely advice for a fool?

One time a person's word was his bond
A handshake was used to seal a deal
Today, no oath can be relied on
For some are always trying to steal

I shall be honest in my action
For to myself I have to be true
In each and every situation
No matter what others say or do

Peace of mind is most important to me
That's why I shall always strive to be free
To act in all truth and sincerity
For honesty is the best policy

A young bud sprouts from its parent plant
and blossoms to a lovely rose before long
With time, its beauty fades and it dries up
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A young sapling takes root and flourishes
Soon a mighty oak stands firm on the ground
With time, it decays to a dried up old tree
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A baby bird sitting helplessly in its nest
grows into a majestic eagle strong
With time, its glory fades as it ages
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A defenceless lion cub hidden in its lair
matures into the mightiest beast around
With time, he becomes a decrepit old male
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A beautiful angelic darling baby girl
becomes a world beauty and wins the crown
With time, wrinkles and old age take their toll
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

Hello to a new life of hope and promise
Goodbye to a life that's now going down
Time marches on irreversibly
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

The vast night sky, my empty page,
In starlit words I sink,
Moon beams ignite my muse and sage,
And steep my thoughts in ink.

I gazed inside my heart to write,
Where flows a lifelong stream,
I dipped my pen in to the night,
And wrote a morning theme.

My poems they can be dark or bright,
As feelings I impart,
Conveying sorrow or delight,
But always from the heart.

Hear my advice, my poet friends,
In fantasy just roam,
Poetic vision never ends,
So dream and write a poem.

Out in the open meadow
Swaying in the breeze
I am a wildflower
Living a life of ease

The seed from which I grew
Was blown here by the wind
It landed on the earth
And that was my beginning

I am watered by the rain
And fed by the earth
Each of them is dear to me
My life depends on both

My beauty is free for all to see
Even a little child
I love the life I am living
I enjoy being free and wild

Another year all shiny new,
What will it bring? How will we do?
Will there be fame and fortune great?
Will all our troubles then abate?

Some moan and wail in sad lament,
About time wasted, poorly spent.
Oh how has all our precious time,
Gone up in smoke while we reclined?

The past is past no need to cry,
Don't waste your tears or even sigh.
With each new dawn new hopes arise,
In every night stars fill our skies.

Let this year bring good times to all,
Peace and comfort on each befall.
May love be strong and pure and true,
My fervent wish to all of you.

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The Mother's taken brush to sky,
And painted leaves of red and gold.
In hues of riotous display,
She slings her paints with strokes so bold.

The crisping air, the chilling breeze,
They tell the tale of things to be.
But here before the winter's blast,
She gives us this one final spree.

The Autumn here in Ozark hills,
So beautiful beyond compare,
With scenes that bring the heart such joy,
You simply have to stop and stare.

With camera I tramp around,
To try and capture this sweet time.
It doesn't last, but just for now,
We must enjoy this perfect clime.

So here's to Mother's plan so fine,
That gives us all such a delight.
Her glory is an endless line.
Her beauty makes the heart take flight.

Morning is the springtime of the day,
Awakening, rebirth, renewal.
Warm and fuzzy creatures, out to play,
The scampering of feet diurnal.

Midday can be thought the summertime,
For summoning up the resources.
A time of strength in the warmer clime,
Thus gathering up all our forces.

Gloaming brings us autumn's retraction,
Pulling in all tendrils from chilling.
Protect, retreat, nature's reaction,
In every creature instilling.

Winter, of course, comes with the darkness,
Huddling deep in our safe retreats.
Outside is the gloom and the starkness,
As we sleep til the pattern repeats.

Thus cycles within one another,
In endless arrays, ever-changing,
All prepared by all-knowing Mother,
In seemingly random arranging.

Just one more wayside tourist trap?
Oh no, the wizard said!
And gals with pistols looking sad,
Although they've roses red.

A feathered redhead splits the air,
So loud it sets you free.
A beet so sweet with rhythm wild,
And scent so heavenly.

Who cares if limbs are kinda thin,
As veils fall all around?
Amphibians drowse in quiet repose,
In bedclothes that they've found.

Infirmities be damned, he cried!
Too hot, and vivid too!
Disguised as hut, a manse is found,
Who knows just what is true?