Last Viewed Quatrain Poems (304)

Tigress and Piglet both in critical need
third-party interest in doing good deed.
Into this mixture stir acceptance, to taste
smoothing the bitterness that differences make.

Mother’s milk drying up, spirits sinking down
after triplets succumb to death-call’s sound
is a story that pulls the heart strings, anew
but, alas, a fabrication – just not true.

Sriracha Tiger Zoo is the 2004-photo place
where animals mix without notice of race
Saimai nursing piglets, herself, nursed by a sow
Shows us peace is possible in the here-and-now.

Sow Benjamaj divides her nursing time
between tiger cubs and her own baby swine.
Who would think she could hold all so dear?
For this, she’s awarded mother-of-the-year.

The photos taken, real, doubtlessly prove
when giving love, there is little to lose.
Visual entertainment for visitors to see
serves as inspiration for you and for me.

Benjamaj and Saimai to us do not preach
through their actions, rather, do they lovingly teach
all things are possible when we look at each other
not with predator eyes but with those of a mother.


Saimai & Piglets

Sometimes on a summer
when the skies are blue
I think about those childhood friends
the birds that never flew

Dead and gone by accident
sicknesses we knew
I only hope they're growing tall
on some sweet avenue

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?

BREAKFAST AIN’T EGGS BENEDICT FOR SURE


You can arise whenever you choose to
And that’s why I’m so jealous of you
You can eat whatever you pick out
As for my breakfast there ain’t no doubt

I know precisely what will be on my metal tray
Except sometimes it’s milk or water to start off my day
Your pantry is full of food I don’t even recall
As I use an old filthy tee shirt to keep me warm as a shawl

Your lunchtime might be at that little tavern we know
But now my lunchtime is delivered row by row
That tavern was cozy and meant a lot to me
And so did my being free

But powder and pain brought me here
And here I’ll stay year after year
I receive opened and censored letters in my mail
The missives people send me here in jail
© 2011.…Phreepoetree

~free cee!~

sometimes when we're lost, need found
wonderin' what happened back there
find ourselves dazed, lookin' 'round
what made us feel like this...despair

we know we should be grateful now
jus' want to turn this thinkin' 'round
but can't seem to get into it somehow
get these feet back on solid ground

where is that centered nirvana state
we think we can remember back then
just make these blues disappear...abate
peaceful before, wanna get back again

hands weighing tons are hard to reach out
fumblin' 'n stumblin', movin' a hard motion
when megrims surround the soul with doubt
when feelin' da blues is life's hued emotion

we all get da blues, in a friendless funk
but passin' through these pitiable times
hear eight bar guitars, our gaiety shrunk
wrappin' ourselves in blue quatrained rhymes

we'll make it past to sunnier days fo' sho'
so sing and hum and stomp, cry and moan
put dem blues down when we don't want no mo'
yet know with the blues we're never alone

© agoodguy2have 2011-04-08

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 shouldn't but I do
Have command of my lovers hands,
Though I don't need their tanned advances
Or their delightfully soft demands.

Flecked with yellow and cinnamon
His lovely warm brown eyes,
Are the charming and most disarming
Keys to my demise.

For I drown in their soft beauty
Regardless of where he reposes ,
So he plies me with Belgian chocolates
Wrapped up in the reddest of roses.

Trapped here within this blackest of sin
That surrounds me when he is gone,
I know,
It's wrong,
His gold ring tells me so,
But when he begs, 'Be my other woman'
Then my lips just won't whisper 'no'.

---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----

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...

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.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

The bird is now a pile of bones,
Potatoes and gravy all gone.
The meal of the year is over,
The one that's been cooking since dawn.

Football games have been won or lost,
The parades' last floats have passed on.
Nothing but reruns on tonight,
And cartoons from old days long gone.

But still we watch in placid glaze,
A soft calm has settled on all.
Who needs entertaining right now,
As Thanksgiving nighttime does fall?

We are stuffed and sated and full,
All gone are the cares of the day.
We drift in a euphoric haze,
As triptophan takes us away.