Peter S. Quinn Poems

There is the joy of strangeness,
The gliding clouds drifting;
Within every ebbing freshness,
That the mist is lifting.
...

The deep of my ocean is soul
The dark and clean waves that lie hidden
And full and lots of what didn't
The soul that you feel with a touch
...

ónefnd eru ljóðin
sem tungl og stjörnur eiga
sem fara um
hverja nótt
...

Now times are still to share
Like a nest is full of life
Each road that leads to here
In fate and a little strife
...

In hope there is a fire that keeps burning,
In a flaming candle that lightens each day,
In there, is a future constantly turning,
To what it is worth and crossing our way.
...

nú eru dagar dimmir
og drungi yfir tíð
ennþá sefur sólskyn
og sumur góð og blíð
...

Black holes
and metagalexies

finding beginnings
...

True dreamers shall never die
When they do a poem or a song
Time might catch them and fly
But they will be singing along
...

morrow's child
precious rays
spins and plays
white gold so mild
...