Last Viewed Quatrain Poems (303)

There's a lamp-stand in the corner
it shine its light down on the floor
a red moon out my window
brought the sheriff to my door

I said the whisky made us frisky
we was fighting tooth and claw
she was dancing on my table
with her body in the raw

Then she stole my sports car
took the money from the drawer
while I was sleeping off the drinking
she was running from the law

Last time I'll bed little Suzie
with the hips you can't ignore
with her two guns and ammunition
and appetite to score

OCTOBER

October’s misty mystery is shrouding autumn’s fair
Behind the morning’s muslin gauze, a carnival is there
With barrows full of apples and russet coloured trees
A silhouette is all we get, for October likes to tease

She bathes in brooks of silver rain this Goddess of the Fall
Drying off in crunching leaves that now are summer’s pall
Putting on a dress of sheaves, she’ll dance seductively
Her clothing’s slack but the clock’s gone back and it’s much to dark to see

A single shaft of sunlight before the night comes down
Illuminates her ripened lips and hair of chestnut brown
Shaken by the freshening breeze, October tries to hide
Cold suitors wait at winter’s gate, but she’ll never be a bride

October is a mother though, unspoilt by Eve’s first sin
Who else could manage hibernation and tuck tired nature in?
A dormitory of garden beds slumbers now till spring
Hedgehogs sleep where willows weep and geese are on the wing

Crux of light and darkness, October has her moods
Elusive as the elements, definition she deludes
And still she’s all around us, an omnipresent nymph
Weaving mesh across her flesh of a psychedelic tint

She courts the supernatural the night before she leaves
Pumpkins glowing on the porch, bats suspended from the eaves
We don’t know where October goes or where it is she’s been
Her prime was autumn’s golden time. Her death is Halloween

HERS

The impresario’s impressive and imperialistic chalice of beauty owned it
And made no bones about it
All the documents were signed properly
Which thusly did make it her property
She used it for reasons and purposes for which it was made
Until the music might be made to fade

From the costume of her countenance did the lovely’s corsage come to fall upon the ground

As any man would swear to be the permanence finally she hath found
But she suffered not for there were men clawing and clamoring to pick it up
They were slightly built or short and some were very tall
Yes, the imperialistic aura and her glow proved she owned it all

It was her birthright
She was born with it
But never to suffer scorn for it
As her sheep were shorn of their dignity and/or pride
When the crown of luxury took every royal stride
And deemed a new subject to bid her every call
For this was a lady who truly had it all

She was the law, the layer, the jury and the judge
And men get a spark up their spine if she’d but give them a nudge
I’ve seen the pictures of her beauty which line the second floor hall
Why?
Because the preeminent pretty pretty much owns it all
© 2011.…..Phreepoetree ~free cee!~

What awaits on the other side
After death takes one's breath away
Billions have taken that last ride
Yet what awaits no one can say

A belief is just a belief
It may provide some with solace
And give a measure of relief
But it's not a proof in this case

All persons will know the answer
When death comes knocking on their door
That's all that can be said thus far
And how it may be evermore


(iambic tetrameter)

I had to look twice, cause I wasn’t sure
Didn’t want her seeing me staring at her
She caught my eye though
And threw me a wave
She played the Princess and I played the knave

We talked for a while in awkward phrases
Tackling topics in gradual stages
She told me she missed me
And I had to be brave
She played the Princess and I played the knave

We dropped into a place where the coffee was strong
I lied when I told her I couldn’t stay long
She said that’s okay
It ain’t you I crave
She played the Princess and I played the knave

She asked if I loved her
So I said I could try
I’d never admit what I cannot deny
But she seemed satisfied with the answer I gave
She played the Princess and I played the knave

We lay on her bed with the moon staring in
Sharing a joint and drinking her gin
The night was so still
And quiet as the grave
She played the Princess and I played the knave

Rainy mid morning woke us both up
The breakfast she made went cold in my cup
I imagined how easily
I could make her my slave
She played the Princess and I played the knave

If I see her again, I think I might hide
Stick my libido in a bag with my pride
Don’t pass no judgement on how I behave
She played the Princess and I played the knave

I've felt that bitter, mocking, stinging cold.
I've survived miserably through desperation.
I saw around me captains of industry arise
as I declined.

but something has happened.
something new, I can feel it.
slowly gaining back momentum
dashing through my veins.

I found you.
A friend.
My beacon on the mountain
A criminal and you have pardoned me.

Now my eyes see
See through the buildings and capitalism
to the fields forever untainted by Man
I have seen the Promised Land.

But who am I
to deserve such a guarantee
the paradise that awaits foe me?
I am but a mere lamb lost in a meadow.

The Lord Bless you and Keep you
He is my shepherd and saviour
No longer am I a weakend sheep
But a mirror to reflect His love to all

Isaiah 30:18
"Yet the LORD is waiting to show you favor, and he rises to pity you; For the LORD is a God of justice: blessed are all who wait for him!"

for give, for giving
the whole world seems
forgiven for living
these ends to extremes

for give me mine
indiscretions that
seemed so benign
i nearly fell flat

forgive me my will
that hard hit the wall
hardened me until
i forgot to recall

for give ruled golden
those marking my way
to many beholding
indebted to repay

forgive petty tiffs
words carelessly blurted
would take back if
not mindlessly inserted

forgive for deceiving
those loved the most
close bonds bereaving
pride left to boast

forgive me my pride
that brought to the brink
in cold heart to abide
hardened armor to chink

forgiving and forgetting
letting bygones be bygones
setting aside regretting
merciful pardon undergone

for give, to live
free from our angst
amongst the living
forgive to give thanks

© agoodguy2have 2011-07-30

HIDE AND GROW WEAK

It was a very slow progression
But a very long depression
I’d try to say the words she needed to hear
While I watched temptation as it grew near

Her laughter was my playground and play we did
I was out seeking her while my little girl hid
She used to get angry when I wouldn’t play house
And then there was “Tiny, her tiny pet mouse

Her friends would sleep over and have a pillow fight
I’d be sitting in the living room hearing screams of delight
She was little and loved pancakes with peaches and cream
But now her childhood seems to me only a very short dream

She met Billy and he stole away all of my hope
He got her to follow as he started shooting dope
I watched a free little girl turn into another man’s slave
And that’s why I’m kneeling now at my young daughter’s grave
(© 2011.….Poefree

CERTIFIED CURSE’S ASSISTANT


Did you know there are places our old folk are kept?
And if sadly they have no one else a guardian must decline or accept
If they choose to eat they’re served the cheapest part of the pig of course
However these elders aren’t aware that they may be eating horse

You’ve got your cocky little C.N.A.’s who think they have absolute power
And they’ll ignore the old people’s pleas at any particular hour
“You know, “ I said to one “Mrs. Wagner hasn’t eaten in more than ten days”
The C.N.A. responded “don’t make me no never mind ” and then she asked for a raise

Many of the Nurses are the same damned way
They don’t give a damn what the elderly have to you say
Cold sores, bed sores mount up by the score
But they say, “it’s five o’clock and I’m out the door”

So to wrap things up tidily some of those places will kill the old
And believe me because I saw it first hand and wasn’t just told
The C.N.A.’s run around not listening to what Mr. Hirsh said
Well perhaps they’ll take their job a little more serious when they find Mr. Hirsh dead

These professionals act without care or concern
So in school a lack of sympathy is the first thing they learn
The frail and elderly should receive mercy from the staff
Instead they are at thee mercy of the staff, and that ain’t no laugh © 2011.…Phreepoetree
(AND THE ADMINISTRATER HERE IS AN ALLIGATOR)

Whipping the master rites
still lightning high
unabashed solo
red freedom sky

Tamed by a jaguar
down on the plain
westerly wallow
the fevers engrained

When all thoughts of mercy
in deep foreign soil
ran hard in the corners
the sword and the foil

Served up like soup
the neighbor's disdain
damn with the fallout
Lord let it rain