INFORM POET – QUATERN

A Quatern is a sixteen-line French form composed of four quatrains.

  • It is similar to the Kyrielle and the Retourne.
  • It has a refrain that revolves to a different place in each quatrain.
  • The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four.
  • A quatern usually has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic, or follow a specific rhyme scheme.

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WALT’S EXAMPLES:

IN A POET’S HEART IS BEAUTY

In a poet’s heart is beauty,
it is through a sense of duty
that a true poet will express
what all poetic hearts possess.

This fact one cannot refute, see;
in a poet’s heart is beauty.
Romantic words to rend his soul,
the feelings wrought will not control

the depth of expression within.
To deny this muse is a sin.
In a poet’s heart is beauty.
Lightness of words, sad or moody,

bring delight to such expression.
They lift souls from their depression
never sounding harsh or haughty,
in a poet’s heart is beauty.

© Walter J Wojtanik

 

IN THE EVENING, WHEN DAY IS THROUGH

In the evening, when day is through,
the sun retreats to a place where
slumber awaits her brilliant hue.
Night is her time to seek repose.

And so, in her tired escape,
in the evening when day is through,
star-crossed lovers beneath the moon
hold each other ever so close

and share their dreams. It always seems
that it draws out a kiss or two
in the evening, when day is through.
Seductive sounds surround them so.

Yet sounds, like sunsets, seek repose
as morning approaches once more.
But to be sure, romance returns
in the evening, when day is through.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2020

49 thoughts on “INFORM POET – QUATERN

  1. QUATERNACTICALLY SPEAKING

    I think of quaterns as French by four,
    a chance to rhyme, then rhyme some more;
    a play on words, and then on lines,
    sort of like forks with wiggly tines.

    When other forms become a bore,
    I think of quaterns as French by four
    and write some stanzas broad and stout
    with one line less to worry about.

    Sometimes my poems come in a binge
    and make me wince, though rarely whinge;
    I think of quaterns as French by four
    and write them till my wrist gets sore.

    For me, French forms are the bees’ knees
    and quaterns offer the most to please
    because they amplify the score.
    I think of quaterns as French by four.

  2. What of Beauty

    What is of true beauty in this world?
    color of fish as they glide by
    in a glass water wall inside
    a peaceful aquarium.

    Ignoring the imprints of man,
    what is of true beauty in this word?
    bottom of an ancient tree, humped
    by roots of an elephant’s foot.

    Heaven of sky transformed from day
    to scarlet and plum of twilight
    What is of true beauty in this world?,
    you ask, as night’s curtain beckons stars.

    With human destruction, ignorance
    of science, and animal’s lack
    of land, food, will Mother Nature take
    what is of true beauty in this world?

  3. A Pledge

    I pledge allegiance to the flag–
    my faith feels sadly banner-bound
    to cloths that cannot touch the ground
    where I now stand. I look around,

    long for a county far, unfound.
    I pledge allegiance to the flag—
    whatever colors, black or blue,
    red, green, or white, in any hue,

    if colors matter…pledges do.
    God, does a pledge mean much to you?
    I pledge allegiance to the flag—
    The question echoes in my head:

    “And, what is truth?” the governor said.
    “My kingdom,” Your thorns boldy bled,
    “is not here where you stand.”
    Instead—
    I pledge allegiance to the flag.

    © Damon Dean, 2020

  4. Say Cheese

    Just a click and time is frozen
    a pose that holds a memory
    for years to come in an album
    till nostalgia urges you look

    there the children play on the swing
    Just a click and time is frozen
    Suzy stuck midflight with a grin
    you recall she held tight and squealed

    Grandma beside her begonias
    you always thought she was so old
    Just a click and time is frozen
    when she was younger than you now.

    You hear a sound, look up, iPhone
    pointing at you and the albums
    and you smile as you acknowledge
    Just a click and time is frozen.

  5. Late to the game again. To tell the truth, I’ve been having trouble putting words together lately, especially with all of the turmoil and violence in this nation. It’s so hard to write anything positive when there’s so much to be said about the negative. We all need to fervently pray for America. Satan has taken root and is holding strong to so many with his false lies and hatred. This piece exemplifies the One and our national rejection of His love and His message.

    The Visitor

    The visitor, uninvited
    Walked quietly throughout the town
    From person to person he moved
    Without even making one sound

    News spread quickly about this man
    The visitor, uninvited
    They all came out to take a look
    Then stood against him, united

    Even though he had said nothing
    And his face wore a solemn smile
    The visitor, uninvited
    Irritated them after while

    Together they surrounded him
    With no proof he was indicted
    United they rejected Him
    The Visitor, uninvited

  6. (okay, felt like writing on a lighter note…)

    A Reign

    I think that I can tell you where
    a blazing sun named Sol is king.
    He brought his summer reckoning
    into MY yard, just after Spring.

    Oppressive heat has wrought his pain.
    I think that I can tell you when
    his angry rule became my bane:
    my lawn refused his tortuous reign.

    My browning lawn, it dies. Unfair!
    The fiery monarch does not care.
    I think that I can tell you why–
    his ego, crazed, desires it bare.

    If ever, as my dry lawn pleads,
    a rain might fall from skies, and needs
    a place to go and do good deeds,
    I think that I can tell you where.

    © Damon Dean, 2020

  7. From the Midnight Sky

    The moon smiles from the midnight sky
    The cool wind whispers through the leaves
    Nocturnal critters creep about
    While people dream their sleepy dreams

    The stars twinkle their cheerfulness
    The moon smiles from the midnight sky
    Owls huskily voice their wisdom
    Skunks and racoons scout for food

    Mother possum carries her load
    Rabbits snuggles in their burrows
    The moon smiles from the midnight sky
    Deer hunker down waiting for dusk.

    Clouds hover over the forest.
    Pines sway and sing their gentle songs.
    People snore and turn in their beds.
    The moon smiles from the midnight sky.

  8. Going to the Good Will

    Bus pumpkins shine through wire fence
    exhaust trembling as they rumble
    mysteriously going whence
    we’ve not a clue as we grumble

    in waiting cars’ red snaking line
    bus pumpkins’ shine through wire fence
    its diamonds counted ev’ry time
    a car rolls on; it makes no sense

    I see the gate, become incensed
    by bundles’ tumble, seat and trunk
    bus pumpkins shine through wire fence
    beside the gently-used and junk

    I’ve sheets and towels: son’s former life
    memories’ bright dreams become past tense
    excised by mind’s indifferent knife
    bus pumpkins shine through wire fence.

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