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Best Poems From
PETER S. QUINN
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801.
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The Sky of My Sky (from The Lost Sonnets)
The sky of my sky is the same as yours
And like the dreams of my dreams shall go on
We are the peace keepers and conquistadors
From our cells of the inside to each aeon
We will follow our dreams to clear the way
Aspire and wonder to the steps of the new
And the sunshine's the same wherever we stay
Whether it's cloudy outside or the sky blue
Much of our spirits have made the same thought
Brought us together or driven apart
Schools may differ of what we have been taught
But inside our breasts - beats all the same heart
Follow your dreams on and see them come clear
Give of your knowledge from what you have learned here
Peter S. Quinn
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802.
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The Song
Oh morning come here all newfangled again
To shine here over these greenery hills
When daybreak comes in its freshness stills
From roundness of waves through in fjords glen
Where rebellious of dark had wings of dim
And dreams of obedient from the far deep
In hours of glow less relish thoughts did keep
When shadows were dancing in beaming slim
Oh climb to melody of hope ascending
To bring every hour its radiance shine
Give of love's heart what love is commending
Never again to darkness dwindle or twine
Oh morning of spirit your hours of flame
To give every love song - truly its name
Peter S. Quinn
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803.
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The Trees Are Bare (a jazz song)
The trees are bare of leaves today
With many laments inside the ground
Now winter's here on earth to play
With thoughts from dark newfound
Tress that had leaves
In summer of June
Now in their grieves
Of a frosty afternoon
A thought of love song
Has left on to dream
With hearts to prolong
Its melting bloodstream
It shouldn't be ended
Though summer love dried
And frosty drops blended
What with autumn has died…
Peter S. Quinn
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804.
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There Are Roses In The Garden (From, Dried Flowers)
There are roses in the garden with much fresh,
Like sea that has opened its wings flying birds;
Going footsteps the future will enmesh,
Travel along all what goes on forwards.
Instants and hours that must find its pathways,
Traveling eagles and the houseflies so small;
Coming darkish winter later spring days,
All what catches moments makes its right call.
The wanderer that is crossing at night,
Finding the earth under his worn shoes;
Transient clouds drifting in its high flight,
All the seeds that in seedlings continues.
All that is transformed again to the new,
When the summer comes green again here through.
Peter S. Quinn
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