A Quadrille was a popular dance in the 18th and 19th centuries, performed by four couples in a square formation representing the sides of the square. (Quad = four). While I’m not asking that you dance your way through this form, I am inviting you to write a Quarille.

A Quadrille is a poem that consists of 44 words, no more/no less. You could infuse meter or not. You could introduce rhyme, or not! As long as it is 44 words, you’re golden.

The Quadrille was introduced to me by our friends over at dVerse Poets Pub and is a regular feature there on alternate Mondays (with the Haibun)!

This Lewis Carroll poem is NOT a quadrille poem as described. It is more about the dance. It was just such a fun read, I included it here!



The Lobster-Quadrille

by Lewis Carroll

Will you walk a little faster?’ said a whiting to a snail,
‘There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle — will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?

‘You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!’
But the snail replied ‘Too far, too far!’ and gave a look askance —
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

‘What matters it how far we go?’ his scaly friend replied.
‘There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France —
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?


Won’t you join the dance and write a Quadrille?

110 thoughts on “INFORM POETS – QUADRILLE

  1. I love writing these little quadrilles, so thanks for another opportunity.


    Coffee is made. Plates on the table.
    Radio’s on, but silence takes over.
    The dog sniffs the air; falls back
    to sleep. A morning cough from upstairs,
    emptying lungs of sleep. Rain drips
    from the gutter as I sip coffee.
    Silence never tasted so good.


    © Misky 2016

  2. My first quadrille to read Misky, and I think you did an excellent job. Silence never tasted so good. You set the bar high. I will have to drink my coffee before I can write mine.

    Titillating Titles

    Our grandparents counted years by scores, money by bits.
    Now we measure our data by gigabytes and bits.
    “Mind your P’s and Q’s,” was our parent’s admonition.
    Monikers versus labels, vintage or current revision,
    It’s good to know a rose is still a rose.


    I had a thought today.
    A thought that the world
    was playing a cruel and
    vicious joke. And I spoke
    this thought out loud
    and a crowd formed.
    En mass they cried,
    “We don’t get it!”
    Neither did I!
    Guess it just wasn’t funny!

    © Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016


    I found the sparrow
    lying on its back,
    buffy brown, dingy gray,
    wounded wing revving flightless.
    Gently I lifted the bird
    (boy and sparrow staring eye-to-eye)
    and carried it home
    where it mended.
    Can we keep it?
    Mama said No.
    Let it fly free.



    Outside her bedroom window
    the world was closing down.
    Once the smoke of bombs cleared,
    she’d see a leveled city
    reduced to rubble.
    Still, with clasped hands, she prayed
    this nightmare would end.
    When she opened her eyes,
    she saw a new sun rising.


    Picture This

    Scenes form magically
    God’s hand at work
    No two alike
    Once gone, gone forever
    Unless they are captured

    By luck or on purpose
    A camera takes focus
    Scene framed up
    Awaiting the press
    Of the shutter button

    Eye hand coordination
    Quick click
    Picture this

    © Earl Parsons


    My cat looked out
    and saw a bird
    on the other side
    of the window pane;
    she did not pout
    (the idea is absurd)
    but arched her hide
    and commenced to complain.
    She bothered me so
    that I let her go
    to pester sparrows.

  9. Walt, this form, if it can be called that, sound like a lot of fun, mainly in the freedom it permits within the 44 words.

    By the way, I meant to thank you for all the work you put into the recent PAD. Your devotion to poetry and poets is so impressive.

    Fall of ’67

    It’s o-dark-thirty, I’m flying,
    death surely on its way,
    I see my mother,
    dead nine years.
    I am no longer matter.
    Go back, you can’t stay,
    still work for you,
    important matters.
    Easy now to understand,
    the work is peace,
    all that really matters.

    There is a mystic meter to life’s moments
    As they run like glints of sand
    Through Mercy’s Hand
    To phantom lands
    Of Done
    Longer, Darling,
    Mosey slower through
    This day before the door
    To Never More soft snuffs its gold to gray

    A Moment of Ecstasy

    A renegade mood seized me
    I ditched the façade of dignity
    shed my shoes and danced
    in the dewy grass pranced
    with a twirl and pirouette.

    A pretty, pastoral vignette
    like lambs kicking their heels,
    lasses doing cartwheels
    just for the joy they feel.

    Permanent Snowbird

    Raised in the cold of Northern Maine
    Used the Air Force for my escape
    After Okinawa, Japan and Hawaii
    No more yearning for the cold
    Tried South Dakota for just one year
    Too cold up there, so moved down here
    I’m a permanent Snowbird

    © Earl Parsons

     Cloudy With a Chance of Dreams

    We blew shiny bubbles
    into the air
    that floated far beyond
    our reach
    carrying dreams
    with them
    they disappeared
    into the summer clouds
    where they
    waved back at us
    the sun
    burst them with a
    gentle “pop”
    and dreams rained
    down on us

  15. Only Fooling

    Cheshire Cat’s grin floated
    through trees, faded.
    Neither teeth nor body
    reappeared. Red Queen
    was feared. “Impossible,”
    said White Rabbit. “How
    could she catch him?”
    Hunt was on. Alice came
    upon stripe, and soon cat
    materialized. He had coaxed
    dormouse into hide and seek.

    (Sorry to be so late!)


    U nderneath a canopy of clouds
    P uffing with a dragon’s breath, a hot-air balloon,
    L ifts us high
    I n a large wicker basket
    F loating quietly, peacefully
    T raveling along over the town
    I look up
    N odding to the
    G od of Heaven with a wink and a smile.


    Use some hyphenated words
    among your forty-four words
    and make mental merry-go-rounds
    of devil-may-care brain-draining sounds
    composed of up-to-the-minute beats
    and proffering better-late-than-never treats
    so red-blooded readers enjoy
    the long-winded constructions employed.
    Can a hyphenated word
    count as one word?
    Just ask Microsoft Word.


    Will you, won’t you join the dance?
    Won’t you, will you take the chance?
    Would you, could you use your words,
    write some poems (quite absurd)?
    Will you take the steps you need?
    Won’t you join us? Plant your seed?
    Will you? Won’t you?

    © Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016


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