Peter S. Quinn Poems

The high electric fruit,
On to the heavens own;
To mankind attribute,
The lives old backbone.
...

It whirls around,
All what is of existence;
Yet nowhere to be found,
Only in by chance.
...

In the palm of space,
There are distances growing;
In many unknown ways,
Thoughts are born and going.
...

The way it is
From a day to day,
Like an epiglottis
In society's cliche;
...

Bring joy to me,
Set them through and free;
Bring joy to you,
Or set for some new.
...

I write and I write and I write...
When I hold a pen I write
When I put my toes into the sand I write
...

Time comes and time goes,
Every way has a little while;
Like a breeze in the airflows,
That will gust on and beguile.
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Tomorrow can never completely go away,
For time's like a thought that comes to play,
Oh all is there for a day.
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One more step to dark,
The hour is now late;
Shadows deepen spark,
Fills up faceless fate.
...

I'm in moods tonight,
Faraway from it all;
Lost my wings and flight,
Watch and see me fall.
...