Quickwords Vol. 25 – Quarters

Oh dear deity, it’s the twenty-fifth volume of Quickwords! That’s a quarter of the way to my goal of a hundred volumes, so why not take the opportunity to write some poems inspired by the concept?

Four quarter coins, tails side up, leaning on each other upon a sleek black surface. Only the foremost quarter is in focus.
Photo by George Paul Becker

| Quarter Machine |

Four quarters I jingle in my hand
The machine will take one at a time
Four chances to get that pyrite trinket

Four, a golden eye with one thousand lashes
Three, a platinum spoon with my old initials
Two, a crystal syringe with a bit of blood
One, it comes a-tumbling down
Some gold for this choosy fool

| Half, as |

Me oh me, as cheeky as can be
As whole things are what you want,
Scorn I receive for half, as singing on the job seems to be a faux pas
But I sing and I dance, so surely I give barely a quarter, as far as I know

Either way you’ll be mad
And you’ll have every right to be
Expectations call for respect
But talks from you when “you” aren’t real
When you are not one face, but countless
Who asks for my work other than me?
It seems to me to get any as — without context — an effort
Is better than none at all

So to all with inward hate for not doing enough
Patience is due in payment to self
For we are all but holding on
And as wholes are something we cannot always give ourselves
Half, as well, is sometimes too much
Give a quarter, or less, as much as you can
Give something, always, but never give nothing

| Partial Steps |

“With each step you take you travel halfway to the door.”
On my second step I pause
To see a quarter of the way left
Already I know I will never reach that threshold truly
Never quite,
So, as I stand,
I ponder the path of partial steps to that place called perfection

| Volume 25 |

25 out of 100
Volumes of words rarely quick
1 out of 4
Poems about the one in four
A quarter of the way there
A quarter past the hours spent in my quarters
Hiding from a virus that knows no quarter
Quartering a shield of art, study, love, and rest
I flip a quarter to decide if I should stop using other meanings of the word
But I forget to call it before it lands

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