Trumpian Sophy's Quatern

Former President Trump lies all the time.
He can’t help himself he is a con man.
But, he fears in his mind he is past his prime.
To his followers, he is a real he-man.

Now, at long last, he is on trial for his crime
Former President Trump lies all the time.
Will he be found guilty, and serve hard time?
Will he, in the end, be sentenced to prison time?

He spends his time committing cybercrime
In the end, he is nothing but a criminal.
Former President Trump lies all the time.
Unpredictable, unforgivable.

In 2024, we must all choose.
Two old candidates past their prime-time.
If we make the wrong choice, we all may lose,
Former President Trump lies all the time.





New Prompt: The last form in this Poetry Week is a form invented by Sophy - Sophie's Quatern.
Information about this form can be read here: "Sophy's Quatern"

Title of your work: Being Free (in honour of Liberation Day in The Netherlands tomorrow)
Sometimes new forms are developed especially for a contest. This is such a form. It was developed for a “Poetry folly”, in which poets were allowed to write poetry at its worst, just for the fun of it. So my friend Sophy (543) developed this form:



* Sophy’s Quatern contains four stanzas of four lines each.

* Every line has ten syllables.

* No meter required.

* There is a rhyme scheme:
-- abab, caca, adad, eaea

* Line 1 of the first stanza is repeated
-- as line 2 of second stanza
-- as line 3 of third stanza
-- as line 4 of last stanza.

An example:

Sometimes new forms are developed especially for a contest. This is such a form. It was developed for a “Poetry folly”, in which poets were allowed to write poetry at its worst, just for the fun of it. So my friend Sophy (543) developed this form:
-- abab, caca, adad, eaea


Rain falls down, after a morning of sun
the bright blue sky has disappeared; it’s grey.
Children argue; they don’t have any fun
they have to stay indoors; but will not play.

Hear, a mother screams, a frustrated voice
rain falls down, after a morning of sun.
I close my eyes and sigh, I have no choice
than go on; this, my work, needs to be done.

My husband comes home… boy! He had to run,
too much rain fell on his head, I just smile
…rain falls down, after a morning of sun…
then nod… complaining is just not his style.

The last strokes on my painting, it looks nice
Content I finished what I had begun.
My children play Yahtzee, rolling the dice;
rain falls down, after a morning of sun.