Peter S. Quinn Poems

White roses of the night,
Lose not sharpness or bright;
Though dark are day themes,
Of some wishes and dreams.
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Growing clusters full of mood,
Flowing tears they intrude;
Loving ways refined and crude,
Past is always past.
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Surrounded and coming
Phantoms of the future
Weathered eaten pillars
The undulating sutra
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Each onward motion we haven't yet seen
Into directions forever and all in between
Flames of winter blooming of spring
Day that are taken to words that sing
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The music that softly plays in the ear,
Where ocean falls in circles, in a shell:
The songs of the past, the dreams we still hear,
The memories from sea which therein dwell.
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This day is young,
And always sweet and always free.
So much to long,
And find out for you and me;
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Day comes easy
From dark turning
Over into the flesh
Mustering the grass
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All summer love I feel in hearts today,
For it is this time of season - now here,
Where I go to nature for sightings play
And later with others my pleasures share.
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If you are a poet then carry the flame,
That is burning of fire within a soul;
And gives you vision and a certain role,
But firstly you must learn how this to name.
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It stood like starlight in the darkest hour,
The enlighten ways of the unknown fate;
A distinguish illuminated power,
This came from the darkest hours moments straight.
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