Peter S. Quinn Poems

stirrings over desire
from touching deep sky

my memory hiding
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time eyes
blue morning reality
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Give me another song
Under dark threshing shed
Love to the feelings belong
Where shall these words lead?
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Trees of my feelings are poems by me,
I can't as God, make a fruit bearing tree;
I hold in memories, moments I feel,
Sometimes in poems, they are all so real.
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There is a love story in the season,
That comes and goes again temporally;
For every heart has its own reason,
To love and then once more, as the birds be free.
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In and out the gossip
Whom do we really know?
The tongue is so slippery slip
In smoothness and its flow
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You may think this is a blah blah, but it actually isn’t…

Love is an easy word
More or less always so
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Winter days go by
Blissful moments opened sky
- Reasons for each try.
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'All love's alike - the ever returning
Flame of the morning and breeze of the night,
Like the fumes of life in hearts are burning
And weighting upon what is wrong and right.
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Oh playful heaven – sweet!
How a wonder is star dust;
With lingering so neat,
That never on earth will rust.
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