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Poems By Poet Peter S. Quinn  1/28/2015 10:10:20 AM
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Sonnet 163, The Stage

We have tried to find a way, out of here,
But there are no other places around;
We can not seek what is not to be found,
For each step backward is still very near.
Sometimes the past is not gone anywhere,
We lose in life senses and sometimes ground;
And stand in such discoveries astound,
To be in the same steps as mad king Lear.
But fear not for entire world is the same,
It gives you of both what is right and wrong,
And praise you even though you deserve none.
For all in here is like a stage or game,
Or a story that goes on all day long,
Until our sense of what is what, is gone.
Peter S. Quinn



Sonnet 168, The Wandering Night

The wandering night so profound and dark,
With faraway lights of the stars to come;
In oceans of clouds so little they spark,
That one's still wondering where they blink from.
And so it is with light that day has given,
It dies into unknown of dreamy thought;
For what is of this day's never out livin',
Into the nighttime that forward is brought.
Like the dark shadow that steadfastly grow,
When moon is in clouds and earth is in night;
Faraway stars in dreams they then will glow,
Until once more the dawn comes again bright.
A wish from a star falling from the sky,
Should always live longer, never to die.
Peter S. Quinn



Sonnet 23, Before Winter

I've seen it in my dreams they're yesterdays
Swans of tomorrow that are going deep
Swimming into the darkness which will creep
When moods from forthcoming winter plays
In lifeless colors of languor and grays
This later when life reoccurs will sleep
Though moments of dullness through it will leap
For feelings and falls are swollen with amaze
Undo none work that in faint are now weak
For the shades in the spring will become strong
Once more when the days are filled with light
And of happiness you can again speak
With thoughts which to the summer only belong
When winter's past its inanimate height
Peter S. Quinn



Sonnet 28, Clouds in the Sky

Clouds in the sky they are made out of love,
Nature is the artist magnificent;
Everything there, isn't heavy and above,
And made rather fluffy in the distant.
I guess everybody has a dream cloud,
Where there's a wishing rainbow coming to shine;
Though sometimes we are in doubt, and not allowed,
To know where it is, cause the weaving's so fine.
All unwritten love's upon a cloud somewhere,
Just waiting for us to go and catch it;
And we, equally waiting for love to share,
Just step by step, and little bit by bit.
Cupid's flying about with his arrows,
Giving happy moments - drying sorrows...
Peter S. Quinn
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Poems By Poet Peter S. Quinn