Peter Dome Poems

Whispers in a cursing wind
anger in stormy skies
rain falling like mournful tears
fear in the heart
...

The need to express myself
drives my pen to write
the paper tells my story
Each poem a jigsaw piece
...

Born into a life of poverty hardship and squalor
where hunger bites and disease is rife
in the dirty cobbled streets
where its a daily battle to stay alive
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Before there's a rainbow there must be a little rain
before you find true love
there must be a little pain
you may run from your problems
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Oh how I wish
I could have set free
the native American Indian
with pride and dignity
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Each line on her tired face
could tell many stories
her hair maybe sparse and grey
but when I look into
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A room full of mottled multicolored butterflies
enclosed within a creative space
of artful design
to inspire and aspire
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Trough the long ever changing
corridor of time
that history sometime revels
Echo's of the past have a habit of repeating itself
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Iv'e never been one to follow people like sheep
and I'm not afraid to stand up for what I believe
I may not be loved by everyone
but I strive for goodness truth and peace.
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Sometimes
I feel like I'm standing upon the edge of a cliff
swaying too and throw
in a icy cold biting breeze
...