Sister Sun - Brother Moon
Sister sun
Brother moon,
It's the summer
Of early June.
Winged across
Spears of thought,
Rainbow flush
Brought to us.
It's for you too
Light our mind,
Of colors true
Our eyes may find.
Sea of touch
That comes around,
That means so much
As lost is found.
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poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Corners Everywhere (From, The Barka Lyrics - II)
Sit down
Wait your change
Nothing is going forever
There are corners everywhere
To begin your journey
Times are complicated
With too much to do
And nothing to please
In the same way
You can give me this and that
And never give too much
You have your ways to accomplish
What surrounds your thought
And sets your mind
There are corners everywhere
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poem by Peter S. Quinn
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50 (from, ‘What's Really Happening - In 54 numbers’)
Each love is like racing cars,
Driving through the final line;
Wounds from losing - all its scars,
Shiver up your spine.
You, the driver of speed car,
Formulates through the years;
Rotten deals with feelings are,
Making clouds from tears.
Take the car and steer it well,
To lives fortunes and each fame;
You could likewise drive to hell,
It's a speed life's game.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Fire Inside (From, The Barka Lyrics - II)
Fire inside
Through the years must glide
Days coming through
Each one is new
Through each life's tide
Stormy weather ride
Gray and darkish hue
Blending futures cue
Fire inside
With fire inside
Heart and feelings bide... Yeah!
Fire inside
With fire inside
Heart and feelings bide
Days are clearing the night
On and on we will go
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poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Flower Flower
Flower flower,
Seasonal art;
Gracious thing
Glory all worth,
New in each spring.
Beauty you are,
Breaking a heart;
Of you I sing,
With my full breath
And spiritual wing.
Flower flower
Fragile and new,
With summer so sweet;
Beauty beyond,
Tenderly treat.
Forever newborn,
When summer shall start;
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poem by Peter S. Quinn
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9 (from, ‘What's Really Happening – In 54 Numbers’)
Lust and love is everywhere,
It keeps on burning, in my skin.
I see your face here and there,
But forgetfulness soon shall win.
Treason's for our love begun,
When I found the 'drugs of joy'.
Thereon started lust and fun,
For a party zone driven boy.
If you drift to my cloud one day,
Don't mind, if I've forgotten you.
My ship did leave your 'home bay'
And feelings, we can't renew.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Let The Joyful Sunshine Come
Let the joyful sunshine come
to the inside little some,
where emotions hide
with our thoughts abide,
- and we don't know where are from.
Summer like a sweetest rose
going through and then it goes,
colored treasures
eyesight pleasures,
- all there in from lightness grows.
Everything is moments new
from the gray and to the blue,
many sunshine days
nothing long though stays,
- for each time is going through.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Walk With the Wind 6
31
the wind goes around
circling the trees and bushes
this October noon
32
drooping leaves yellow
on to the ground of the night
winter slowly walks
33
as the wind blows
with its many hollow voices
- night goes to star fall
34
momentarily breeze
over my roof and windows
singing for winter
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poem by Peter S. Quinn
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There Is So Much to Say
There is so much to say
With complicated reasons
And the varieties of way
In new and yearly seasons
We have but a little while
To say our thoughts and mind
To walk the distant mile
Before those hours are behind
Blessed are the interrelations
Of every village and tree
There is so much graduation
In there thoroughly to see
Where brook is flowing freely
Breezing whispering leaves
Water streams colors steely
The greenery fields and sleeve.
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Wilderness Flower
Wilderness flower
Wilderness flower
Beautiful in its innocent blue
In morning young hour
And rain falling shower
Your color is sweetness so true
Like pearls on spring earth
With glowing of light
Each pure and so worth
In arrangement and sight
Wilderness flower
Wearing its headdress so right
My love calls to you
(In the Icelandic wilderness, the first sign of spring are the little flowers you see everywhere – in their blossoming freedom)
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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