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Poems By Poet Peter S. Quinn  8/29/2014 7:23:20 PM
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  PETER S. QUINN
 
 
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  3797.     

the river lingers on (From,134 Picture Poems)

the river lingers on
as fairies fold gently
summer wings
in the fading sun

autumn dances
with silky butterflies
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 

   
   
 

  3798.     

The River Sings On (From, The River Sings On)

The river sings on,
Flames of flowing waves;
Where have days gone,
That once was of the braves.
I and you are finding
Destiny and new hope,
Swirling to new glory,
Holding on to the robe
Of new seeds and story.

Playful is the evening,
With the soft and the sweet;
When the shades are abandoning,
Days of easy street.
Find your ways and journey,
Where each story goes;
We have each our tourney,
Where the past all glows.

Nothing have I lost,
That memory hasn’t found;
Stones they shedder dust,
If we are only earth bound.
River streams going,
To the sea of unknown deep;
Experiencing and growing,
We are what we reap.
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 

   
   
 

  3799.     

The Rivers of Time

The rivers of time
Will find the future ways,
Within steps we climb
Fortune to us each plays;
Nothing forever is hidden
There's a reason for all,
Of them we're never ridden
Later we reach our call.

Rivers are streaming on
Making it to the sea,
When our steps are done
Purpose will set them free;
Dark the thoughts may be
Unclear the sight to reach,
Much further we will see
If we hold on to each teach.

The rivers of time
Flowing freshly through earth,
Always new and sublime
In each try and birth;
Nothing is easy to come
We have to try it again,
There are fortunes for some
When water reaches the glen.
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 

   
   
 

  3800.     

The Road Goes On (From, Poet on WWW)

The road goes on,
And movies you to dreams;
Where fantasies run,
And everything strange seems.

The passes are mildly away,
Double-crossing the sights;
In twilight's before the day,
And stars on they wishing flights.

Moving earth's harmony far,
Through the spheres and hours;
Somewhere there is a newborn star,
And the seeds of new flowers.

Where tomorrow has no sense,
Only the profanation of our joys;
And each is given a fair change,
From falseness and its decoys.

You and repudiation of innocent,
Like the seeds in earth to grow;
All became from some accident,
And now to life must, must go.

Love has much to do with it all,
What is meant to bring to gold;
You must have its purpose call,
For your place to give and hold.

Be aware of what isn't refined,
Ourselves and some things to come;
Each to each accomplish is assigned,
So much to have or bothersome.

Inter-assured from each in year,
Therefore which are and which to miss;
Each understanding with all its blear,
What we take for granted or dismiss.
 
Peter S. Quinn
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Peter S. Quinn