Peter S. Quinn Poems

morning walking
lingering on
...

There was this little willow tree,
That lived for many seasons;
It had its branches wild and free,
Without giving any reasons.
...

Winter's pale roses
Always long for cold
On windows frosty poses
Until the ice can't hold
...

The birds have flown together
And found their ways at last.
Day is nearly gone into the forest dark
With passions the hours gave,
...

Poems of summer are like butterflies,
On colorful wings they faraway go,
Into the forest where flowers seed grow
And a gust from the wind falls down and dies.
...

Feelings are painless or pain such is music,
Life eternally on of joy and sorrow;
Each of its own half of what we do sic,
Not of the same way as that of tomorrow.
...

Light symphonies play,
before cold dawn makes a day
- twilight's misty way.
...

The leaves are all dead,
and summer dreams aforesaid
- better springs ahead.
...

If ever there was
A true love
It was in the ways
We were taught
...

ICT overdose and its 'comatose'
I'm under its spell once again
'Cause I and my keyboard are close
Both within its contrast terrain
...