Poems are like memories...
They get lost one by one,
Like falling autumn leaves
Sometimes seem almost done.
Yellow brown red scent
Into the footsteps going,
What was suggested or meant
When life its pace is slowing.
The music for no instrument
Only the colors bleaching,
In garden's rainy days relent
When to the end it's reaching.
In the flower seeds of tomorrow
That cautiously life prolongs,
A hope of a dream to borrow
With next year's springtime songs.
Poems that now have begun
With shadings falling silence,
Within the autumn shadowed sun
In nearness hue light blench.
A light from a curving rainbow
Coming on with its pearly string,
Afternoons ending glow
Soon to the winter shall sing.
Poetry by Peter S. Quinn
Read 951 times
Written on 2018-04-12 at 10:48
Tags Autumn  Memories  Poems 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Poems Are Like Memories
Poems are like memoriesThey get lost one by one,
Like falling autumn leaves
Sometimes seem almost done.
Yellow brown red scent
Into the footsteps going,
What was suggested or meant
When life its pace is slowing.
The music for no instrument
Only the colors bleaching,
In garden's rainy days relent
When to the end it's reaching.
In the flower seeds of tomorrow
That cautiously life prolongs,
A hope of a dream to borrow
With next year's springtime songs.
Poems that now have begun
With shadings falling silence,
Within the autumn shadowed sun
In nearness hue light blench.
A light from a curving rainbow
Coming on with its pearly string,
Afternoons ending glow
Soon to the winter shall sing.
Poetry by Peter S. Quinn
Read 951 times
Written on 2018-04-12 at 10:48
Tags Autumn  Memories  Poems 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
|
Jamsbo Rockda |