Peter Black Poems
|42.||When I'M Far||12/22/2014|
|51.||Moment Of Death||12/22/2014|
|54.||The Myth Of Er||12/22/2014|
|55.||The Singer's Grief||12/22/2014|
|56.||A Summer Nymph||12/22/2014|
|57.||A Space Of Time||12/22/2014|
|58.||The Stanzas Of Life And Death||12/22/2014|
|61.||The Next Day||12/22/2014|
|62.||Out In The World||12/22/2014|
|63.||The Clean Life||12/22/2014|
|70.||Tithonus And Fallacia||12/22/2014|
|73.||The Natural World||12/22/2014|
Comments about Peter Black
The Natural World
This human world is fixed with chains and locks.
Children are told with their arms and legs clasped,
'Do not think of what is not sold or bought.'
As they are led from closed box to hot box,
Where the inner light has grown faded, gone
Out of the mystic; we forgot the songs
That put dancing into innocent feet,
Around tribal fires and roasting meat;
Now we chant dirges to the greedy gods,
Loving captives of interest and clocks.
But out past the city and sprawling ways,
Of powdered bricks and electricity,
Beyond the dead lands where forests were ...
Sweetness and scorn when I wake in a mourn,
Curse the night that held dormant feelings born,
Kissed from the demons; the ghost of what is
Left me say hope in tomorrow now lives.
Begins when I awake with my eyes gleamed
Of the shade and the moons sick feely beams,
But the sun, it rots the day; says, 'What now? '
For truth, that hope like the moon had gone down.
So waking, you look at the one you love,