AND SO IT’S A QUATERN?

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The Horses Graze

The horses graze on yonder hill.
The grass is thick and green and good
on such a day when wind is still
there in the pasture by the wood.
Nearby a spring where elks have stood,
the horses graze on yonder hill.
A picture posed like Hollywood,
they munch close to the daffodil.
They chomp until their stomachs fill
with grass and hay just as they should.
The horses graze on yonder hill
in that high-country neighborhood.
They are the kings of brotherhood.
They chomp in sync with cowbird’s trill,
a peaceful sound well-understood.
The horses graze on yonder hill.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

Note: The Quatern form seemed just right to go with my photo here. The ancient French form of four stanzas in iambic tetrameter, using only two rhymes was a bit of a challenge, due to the particular rhymes I chose. Set-up as follows: Abab bAba abAb babA .   Poets, try it. It’s fun!

 

 

THE SEARCH

Cougar

The cat went searching for a mouse
to bring to house.
He climbed a gate
and stayed out late,
still looking for a mouse or rat.
Persistent cat
kept on his search
and found a perch
where birds were roosting for the night
but they took flight
before his eyes
to his surprise!

© Copyright, Freeda Baker Nichols

This is a Minute Form of Poetry

 

 

Banner Mountain Girl # 73 the Baker Sonnet–Land That I Love

I love my country land because I’m free.
America, a land of which I’m proud.
I sing her praises in a voice that’s loud.
It is a land that fills my heart with praise.
My country is the only place for me.
My land is beautiful from sea to sea.
Among world maps she stands above the crowd.
She is the greatest in so many ways.
I pledge allegiance and respect her flag
and fly it high on dark or sunny days–
it must not touch the ground or even sag.
America, a land of which I’m proud.
To honor those who for my country died,
I stand, salute the stars and stripes with pride.

© Freeda Baker Nichols
Flag of the U.S.A.1098161_660780950601531_626397485_nEagle at Banner Mt.

 

 

 

Banner Mountain Girl # 72 — Spring Is

hens and roosters

Hens and roosters — wild violets at Banner Mountain Homeplace

 

Robin

Spring is

as warm as sun on robin’s breast
as soft as yarn in blackbird’s nest
as cool as breezes when they blow
as white as gentle flakes of snow
as tasty as sunflower seeds
or nasty as tough bitterweeds––
polecat babies in black and white,
who stir a stink in dark of night
tornado winds that scalp the hills
and crack the eggs of whippoorwills––
a “fraidy hole”––a cellar deep
where even greenish frogs can creep
a rain surprise in hasty splash
that brings forth thunder with a flash
newborn kittens in loft of hay
song of sparrow at end of day––
dogwood blossoms in Arkansas,
a welcome time chock-full of awe.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

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Banner Mountain Girl # 66 Winter’s Night

As rain begins to turn to ice,
When sun sets,
Protect pets–
Subfreezing temps are never nice.
Mittens, cap
Fur-lined wrap.
The little birds arise in flight,
Feathers fluffed
Hanging tough.
They roost in trees in winter’s night.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

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Birds