Random Quatrain Poems (303)

At any time whatsoever
Whether day or night, night or day
There's always some CS blogger
Who is up with something to say

Some post blogs of their very own
Others merely make a comment
Some just peruse to see what's shown
And with viewing, they are content

CS blogging is taking place
All across the entire globe
With no barrier to creed or race
There is no need for any probe

Among all the differing views
There are times when conflicts arise
Such cases, CS mods diffuse
For bloggers here, that's no surprise

So let's all enjoy the blogging
And to the rules be attentive
In the process of so doing
Remember to live and let live

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

I clearly recall Vigus who was around eight
Wearing a girl's dress climbing over their front gate
His folks thought this apparel would keep him at home
And discourage him from leaving their place to roam

When we played a game of marbles on the bare ground
He would tuck the dress between his legs and stoop down
This was in preparation for his turn to “pitch”
So he could aim at the target without a hitch

His first language was a version of French patois
Which he learned in his native island, St. Lucia
When we first met and he spoke French patois to me
I, not understanding, would nod approvingly

We made chocolate ice cream from sifted dirt and sand
And sought someone to taste our own special brand
He was my next door neighbour and as a young boy
Playing together as children brought us great joy

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

Spiritual but not religious
what does it really mean
This claim is quite prevalent
on today's scene

Is it just a new age fad
or is it contradictory
If in fact it is the latter
then what is the discrepancy

Religion has divided a person
into body, mind and spirit
It claims it seeks the spirit's welfare
and is sincere about it

If religion really deals with the spirit
then why is there such a fuss
that many still continue to claim
they are spiritual but not religious

The pops and creaks and grunts and groans,
Are caused by my condition.
Arthritis, not old age, you see,
Puts me in this position.

Still young of heart and mind I am.
With wild imagination.
Just aching joints spread here and there,
That cause me irritation.

I try hard not to let it show,
This awful aching pain.
But if perhaps you catch a wince,
Arthritis once again.

I do some carpentry at times,
Some painting and some plumbing.
Each take their toll, my body pays,
Just wishing for some numbing.

But work I must, so off I go,
Into the breech once more.
Just take it slow and carefully,
As I go out the door.

There's some folks seem to understand,
And some who never can.
They think my pain a weakness so,
Think me a lesser man.

I hope one day they find a cure,
To end this woeful mess.
But until then, I'm what you see,
In pain and under stress.

Don't get me wrong, I can't complain,
There's others facing more.
I wish them well, a healing wish,
Their wholeness to restore.

He pulled out every trick he had learned from what others had been writing,
but no matter what he tried, the fish just were not biting.
He tried grubs and snails and rare Brazilian skinks; maggots,
salmon eggs, and every bait that stinks.
He finally shook his head and spoke, "That's everything I had
and not a nibble did I get, what say you, grandad?

The fisher looked at him and winked, said "You need to learn some more. Just remember there's a fine line between a fisherman, and an idiot on the shore. I told you once, now this is twice: come back and see me later. And next time don't bring along your voice, you little master baiter."


Third times the charm he thought, as he showed up on the dock
and sat down to wait the fisherman, on his favorite rock.
Two hours passed, and still he hadn't shown
the boy just sat and waited there, on the jetty all alone.

A passerby just shook his and said "Old Jed is gone. Reeled in by the greatest Fisher, been a week since he passed on.
He told me if I saw you, did my old pal Jed,
that he left you all the fishing gear that there was in his shed."

While the boy was trying cope with the fisher being dead,
his unheeding footsteps took him over to the shed.
His hands sought out a bamboo pole and a bobber made of cork,
and baited a worm upon the hook before his mind could work.

His sensibilities came to him with a little splash,
of sinker hitting water and the leaders flash.
He sat there contemplating Jed until the dawning light.
And as he sat there silently, the fish began to bite.

A lesson learned too late is still a lesson learned,
for Jed had taught the boy exactly that for which he yearned.
The fisherman is gone, no more for worldly strife,
but where he used to sit and fish, there's a new one, such is life.

DOPE DIDN’T KILL ME BUT BEING A DOPE WAS DOPEY

I smoked cheap cigars and played old guitars~
I even drove thirty-five year old cars~
I had reminders of dope dealing from all of my scars~
But my proclivity, I proclaimed, was for drinking at seedy bars~

The seedier the better it was for me in there
Because then I was in my element with nothing to fear
Walk down the street being me and you were taking a chance
I was shot at, choked, bludgeoned but no one ever used a lance

Old enemies never forgot, they simply waited by and by
Some hoped I had died and the others just prayed that I’d die
These people used to stand in neighborhoods they believed I would frequent
But s**t, I’ve been escaping enemies since I was a juvenile delinquent

I owed so many people money that it’s hard to recall
I just knew I must have owed something to all
Due to dollars…..dope…… dirty deals and the like
The only one wasn’t searching for me was busy with his finger in a dike

So I was diligent in my efforts to evade debts unpaid
The only thing I didn’t need a loan for was to get laid
Then one day I ran into Big Billy and Dangerous Dave
And I know how close I came to writing this missive from my grave
© 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~

DID WILL, BILL AND GIL GET THEIR PILL?

I have this great idea to invent a pill
Make it so men can get pregnant as well
Dudes walking around in camouflage
Get a huge belly and know pregnancy is an un-earthly hell

This pill will be mandated and mandatory to ingest
Let’s let men do what women have been doing since Eve
Let the future climb out of Walter’s womb
With little baskets to make and baby blankets to weave

So mommy is in one hospital room and daddy’s in another
And our peaceful home will be noisy for quite a while
One kid from her and the other one from him
And the dad wonders how his wife can summon a smile

Don’t all of you get it, there’s been a problem for years
And we should have monitored each and every birth
Because all we’ve accomplished is a problem made worse
And doesn’t everyone understand we are over-populating the earth?
© 2011.….~free cee!~ FREEPOETRY

I take up my guitar;- full of blue promise,-
As I remember you;- how much I miss;-
To find a chord,- (a favorite of mine);-
And strum down soft and think of first love's bliss.

As I work my way across the blues scale,-
Notes caress the air in sound's subtle veil;-
(In what was just before a hollow box);-
And maybe in the next world love won't fail?

I'm not drinking tonight;- my head is clear;-
When desire is gone,- there's neither love nor fear,-
(I used to drink alone most ev'ry night);-
To dream the dream of you;- when you were near.

Well,- love is true,- and love there still remains,-
In ashes now;- burnt by an old flame;-
(Caress of blues;- that now softly turns to jazz);-
I tell myself that first love's cut can heal again.

Many loves have come and gone;- yet there are none;-
That set as true in night as first love's sun;-
None I remember were as true as ours;-
My heart transported,- as my hand doth strum.

If tears were left,- then maybe I could cry;-
And lose my disappointment to the sky;-
(As jazz turns to blues,- then softly back again);-
If for just one night, you would now with me lie.

Though over time your memory doth fade;-
It's all I have;- the memories we made;-
As each new chord hangs softly in the air;-
This I recall;- as each blue note is played.



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