R. H. Peat Poems

Flying Fingers (Ode to the Guitarist)

Soft sounds written in naked sky,
the alphabets of beetles, tiger moths, and
...

Perfection

Every oak will lose a leaf to the wind.
Every star-thistle has a thorn.
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Ocean Depths

This tide from the past reappears
in the moment, and the Ocean
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Dead Fish Laughing

Post Op. fried-egg and sliced-ham
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Enigmatic: Dead Polar Bear

I.) The polar-bear is black beneath transparent hair,
each blueberry conceals a pentagon on its bottom,
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A Fawn in Days

The fawn is dead upon the emerald
field where milky narcissus bloom
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Mother's Dark House (A Dirge)

Smooth and white as a neatly quilted bed,
Sheeted silence glistened sheer and pristine;
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Let's Enjoy the Journey:

You stopped me on the tracks;
I slipped on the butter —
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What's Left Behind

All the trips have been made
between the house
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At The Destination:

All the blue sky above the oaks
is too much to hold without wonder.
...