Quarter Poems - Poems about Quarter

Be leaved In your redemption As whole Leave is unworthy Of spirit Usual day Ends of spittle held Under nectars perch, hast child as babe Layed beneath wounds crown? Neither beckon of blankets coldened ease Wells, as slavic despondent ledgers Nor, blathering distinct indemptions buffet Break winds towards lightnings laughter ...

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I first fell in love with baseball back when I was 8 yrs old when I went to a Yankee game and was very fortunate to have gotten to see the great Mickey Mantle play. It was a school class trip, and the highlight of the trip was when Mantle hit a foul ball and...

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First Quarter Moon The first quarter moon wants me to learn to speak curly hair language. If I don’t their rage concerning being bullied by prunes the size of cement trucks will cause: more cracks in paths. The first quarter moon also wants me to take a wallet out to dinner. Wallets love to treat themselves too, but they won’t...

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I woke up at a quarter to one, with the angels walking hand in hand My temperature had risen to a hundred degree and I had a grinding headache that was bothering me For the past two days, it rested in my forehead and creeps slowly into my right eye forcing spiritual tears to flow consistently from my eyes and...

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I listen to the sound of the clock on the wall tic tock, tic tock and my spirit began to grow tall the winding road that connects the village to the sea Is calling me to keep its company, the trees are standing in line and and destiny is running all over the vine the river will crest soon and...

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A challenging game aligning quarters in row to push a bunch out...

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I rarely pay for things in cash, Although some stores prefer it. They charge more for a credit card, So customers deter it. But at the local bagel shop, I placed my morning order And realized that, when tallied, I’d be somehow short a quarter. I asked the counterman to please Remove one single bagel, To prove I wasn’t out to, By some method, well, finagle. He...

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A bright shiny quarter was rolling its way toward a young man with large bills to pay The nickel rolled by, ignored and shunned ~ all the young man’s accounts were dunned ...

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Just soul of 3 quarters of an ounce: Exist in earthly body, Accomplish planned tasks, Generate energy and leave; Endure pain and joy, During all my life; Negative and positive both prevail, React to ambiance surrounding mine, Life was full of joy and sorrow, Until I relinquished the body; Caring friends and kins, All accompanied up to burial, Tears in eyes, gesturing bye; But...

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It's quarter to three, The Bundy clock is ticking It's talking to me....

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Gunga Din can have his gin… Old King Tut his beer, but I’ll rely on the sparkling wine. Just a bit before dinner, imbibe… just enough to create a sigh… a cabernet sip for the heart… My purple-tinted glass is high; I fill it nowhere near the brim - halfway between a half and quarter to five. I can do without a glass, but what kind...

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Do you ever wish you'd never been born? Never again? Do I play a role in your misery? Or, did our paths cross to confirm inevitable suffering? I'm weak and addicted. Mayonnaise brain. Unfiltered rants that indulge self hate. Pushing the limits. I don't want to be what I created. Seem is adjacent. No satisfaction. Coincidence is comfortable in the simile of...

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In the light of autumn skies, one might sense this blind turbulent endeavour, raptures veering like some wanton thunderstorm, behind dark moon frost allure, amber leaf vortex among bemused grey clouds, gust-ridden disco blue hue, tumbling high jinx from skyline moist beams, damp rot urban shed cluster, nomad squatter plight, so at odds with pending freeze, summer folly red blaze passed,, heatwave immigrant rues latent scorn, a...

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Walking in the back streets of Paris On a warm balmy evening Talking with a friend enjoying The night and watching As the people went on their way Unhurriedly ,also enjoying the day. The pace was slow Sun a fading glow Shadows growing long Nearby a busker sang a love song While a nightingale Gave a melodius refrain We imagined a little ball Which we...

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So insecure and insignificant, And I just can't take it and keep it in, What's it to you ten years from this moment on, If I were long gone? So weakened and broken, I can't lift even my own spirit. What's it to you if I finally admit All along I've been tired of being so strong? So dismayed and...

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