Peter Rolny Poems

With hands held wide by painful stings,
The Savior proves the love he brings
Pricked of thorns the life grows dim.
With tears the Father mourns him.
...

I see fuzzy shapes of verdant mass;
Trees, trunks, a decaying carcass,
Like inkblots at first but then a spire,
A city. Above it broods a fire,
...

On this evening pure and free,
The sun is sinking below the sea.
A strand of trees and mountains blare,
While flowers trumpet in the air,
...