Peter S. Quinn Poems

Love's clement moments are never the same
They touch with lovely gaze but do not dwell
And burn in their instances turning flame
Each outcome is varied without a foretell
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There is a rose of yellow
In the gardens of the fall
Going reddish brown mellow
When the winter's night call
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There is so much of nothing
But it’s nevertheless always here
Keep on with their bruising
From something about everywhere
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The water is clear to mirror each day
Through the tranquility of moods and waves
Each picture an image of what one craves
It shows every clearance of much way
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Good end in the beginning from here to there
Everything comes in before showing
That meaning of the day and evening going
It starts to come up to show it’s somewhere
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Thanks for being that kind
In my heart and mind
I'll prosper your way
To give worth something to say
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We are all sinking with our wings of buying
In the days of ahead and global die
There is darkness into tomorrow sky
With every beat going on and its trying
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Sometimes love is so sure to let you go
Walk away without a reason or run
Trying to let you forget all the distance fun
That once had a meaning to follow the flow
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I remember love songs now
That I thought were gone
Feelings confusing somehow
Running through on and on
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I have a piggy-bank and a top hat
But nothing is coming in
I must have done something wrong at that
Perhaps I did a capitalism sin
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