Quatrain Poems (303)

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The kiwi is a fluffy fowl
With a long, slim, pointed beak.
But Kiwi's come to mean to all,
Folks of which I wish to speak.

I've made some friends online you see,
And they have taught me quite a bit.
The culture is quite int'resting,
They are a folk of soul and wit.

Whalers, sealers, traders and such,
They put the island on the map.
Shepherds, miners, farmers then came,
The rich resources there to tap.

Maori tribes lost all they had,
To greed and violence of whites.
This led to their almost collapse,
These horrid wars and bitter fights.

But now there's harmony so sweet,
As natives and Kiwis made peace.
With grit and courage they have won,
The trouble and the wars surcease.

Mountains, forests, beaches so fine,
Their island home has ev'rything.
This paradise in which they dwell,
Enough to cause a tear to bring.

Though I've only seen in pictures,
And some few videos and such,
It is a place I long to see,
Upon these shores I yearn to touch.

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As I looked into the mirror
That face looked back at me

Tell me what did I see
That face staring back at me

It looked like Ive seen it before
But something about it I didn't know anymore

I heard it call out my name
But it just kept staring at me the same

Did I know you at one time I said
Or something about you that seemed unread

I still don't know who you are
Will you tell me please

It's just the inner self you see
It's you looking back at me

The chill's arrived, the crop is in.
It's time for feasting to begin.
The smell of baking fills the night,
And time has come for bonfire's light.

Let's raise a mug of hearty ale,
In lantern's shine from hill and dale.
To toast the harvest and the feast,
And gather round the roasted beast.

While gathering from near and far,
We'll make a wish upon each star.
Haul in the wood and light the fire,
This is a feast not fun'ral pyre.

The veil is thin between the sides,
Where living lives and death resides.
So don your mask and chase away,
The evil spirits on this day.

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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.

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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...

We fought like cats and dogs as kids,
But made up as we grew.
Yet loved each other all along,
That, at least, we knew.

Though only three years older than,
She thought it made her boss.
But I did not take orders well,
And ev'ry line would cross.

She married young, and not so well,
Divorced then right away.
He used her to get papers so,
Stay in the USA.

Then tragedy struck later on,
Blood vessel in her brain.
Six months in a coma as,
Our mother prayed in vain.

Though over thirty years ago,
It still hurts to the bone.
A fighter to the end, you see,
Was my big sister, Joan.

My friend had introduced us,
That crisp late autumn day.
He'd told me she was easy,
Would let me have my way.

But she was babysitting,
Her younger brothers, three.
Had to wait until they slept,
Before she would be free.

So we necked a little while,
My hands went roaming round.
I got so damned excited,
My heart began to pound.

Then the kids came in from play,
We quickly jumped apart.
She made us all some hotdogs,
I tried to slow my heart.

When she put the kids to bed,
We necked again some more.
She checked in then after while,
They had begun to snore.

So I took her by the hand,
To lead her off to bed.
She hesitated then cause,
They may wake up, she said.

I swept her up in my arms,
And carried her to lay,
Upon the bed so sweetly.
Then closed the door to play.

The condom that I carried,
I slipped on inside out.
Of course it slipped right off,
Oh such a clumsy lout.

Was over in a moment,
My trigger was so prime.
But hey give me a break now,
It was just my first time.

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?

We all have a hard luck story,
A sad sob tale to tell.
No more songs of fame and glory,
Just tolling of the bell.

I've heard them all from near and far,
No joy seems to be had.
I lost my job, my wife, my car,
My luck has all been bad.

The skies are grey, the wind is cold,
My health is failing fast.
You hear these stories often told,
The end has come at last.

No sad songs any more I sing,
The bluebird's on my sill.
With sunshine to my life you bring,
My heart with joy you fill.

So tell me not the tales of woe,
Won't hear them any more.
Just sing me songs soft, sweet and low,
Of happiness in store.

Stains on yellowed linens,
On arms of easy chair,
Tear stains on a pillow,
And stains in underwear.

Coffee stains on tables,
From burning midnight oil.
Stains on faded bluejeans,
From gas and grease and soil.

Tar stains on crooked teeth,
From years of sucking smoke.
And similar addictions,
Like coffee, tea and Coke.

Stains that tell a story,
Of life lived day by day,
Until the final staining
As life's blood drains away.