Peter S. Quinn Poems

There is emptiness inside me,
From the days that have gone by;
Will I ever feel or see,
What makes summer hours high.
...

Like morning flowers sweet
the day has come so neat,
with drops of dew
and songs anew,
...

The earth is yellow,
Under the winter's aglow;
Spring will come and grow,
A seed from under the snow.
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Passages of secret days shining on,
Pilgrim's tale of dusty roads and desire;
Carefree thoughts of times in yesterdays gone,
Different world of meaning - forgotten fire.
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Each morning of our life,
There is a new song
And when dusk arrive,
These, remain and carry on;
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The ocean is full of waves,
Moving just to and fro;
My longings and my craves,
Moved there from long ago.
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I have found a way to faraway stars,
They lie in strait lines from each of life's fate;
There are so many wounds and many scars,
Some are newly done, others rather late.
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There's sorrow and pain
Wherever we want to go,
We search thoroughly in vain
To prosper and grow;
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Poems from the north,
Are frozen on the ground;
Winter's songs going forth,
Like wild wolves hound.
...