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Poems By Poet Peter S. Quinn  12/18/2014 11:17:46 AM
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  PETER S. QUINN
 
 
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  4045.     

To New Born Springtime

She's the lady of the lake
The new born springtime
Her soul that plays at night
On the harp of nocturnal colors
The whisper of the wind
When the nightingale sings
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 

   
   
 

  4046.     

To Non Existence

To non existence the moments must go
With each their vestiges that came to be
The wandering thoughts that now fly on free
Like the falling glimmering pallor snow
Days that ones were are retrospect's glow
Traveler along the winding dark sea
Crossing murk without their lively spree
Something of recall in tide's time flow

Days be forgotten to times of yore
Like carillons ringing their soundings leave
Echoes that are transformed to new fullness
What has been here the ages can not store
Only to memories they will retrieve
In churn out there as well to less and less
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 

   
   
 

  4047.     

To Our Time – Sonnet

Each time is of summer or winters bright
Of love and compassion so temperate
New morning of feelings that comes with light
That everything thereon must generate

Our life is to behold its bouquets vow
And give of its meaning each day some more
For the time that we have is only of now
For nothing of this life is ever for yore

Each summer shall pass into its fading way
And give us autumn of memories dust
For time that we behold shall never stay
Therefore me must give and our heart trust

We for these instances like buds of May
In each our working of reverie and play
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 

   
   
 

  4048.     

To Snowdrop

1.

The sea wolf comes with each tide
Circling the waves of the weary darkness
Its dark cloud will sound its wind through the ray
And give its way to inner light
What it else brings, who will know
Only few hours and minutes more till beginning burn
When the stars will fall off to shine
To the mistress - the 'pale head heavy as metal' (sic)

2.

Flowers of dark surround the head
With inside wintering bouquets’ from earth
Weasel and crow are searching still
Giving a thought to the inside grown wild,
Like a flash from light, each understands
Through the mind of darkness of normalness
Death is not within these infinities
Nor madness that pursues Snowdrop

(Inspiration: Ted Hughes’ Snowdrop

Now is the globe shrunk tight
Round the mouse’s dulled wintering heart
Weasel and crow, as if moulded in brass
Move through an outer darkness
Not in their right minds,
With other deaths. She, too pursues her ends
Brutal as the stars of this month
Her pale head heavy as metal) .
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Peter S. Quinn