A Feeling Or Perhaps Its Bliss – A Song Poem by Peter S. Quinn

My home is where my home is
With something inside its clear
A feeling or perhaps its bliss
Of something wonderfully dear
A glass within a glassy wall
Through nobody's but my own eyes
Each day short-rained in its call
With collected faces in disguise

The midair temper of each tide
That's flowing ongoing to please
Each shadow dancing in its stride
With anything one there sees
Like something of a dimension's own
Imaginations like the bluish moon
The many faces that aren't shown
Though you will notice them soon

My home is where my heart is
With all its compartments stores
Each way that let up blindingly this
To make the senses to yours
Attachments that might please a fancy
Or bring them to their own falls
Future entered and exorcised in dancy
Whenever to opportunities it calls


(I am a poem said the poet, and the world is also poetry.

All the best,

From Peter S. Quinn – who uses rhymes to make music

http: //www.poemhunter.com/peter-s-quinn/poems/page-100/
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http: //members.sibeliusmusic.com/Peter
Google 'Peter S. Quinn'

“Let the new wave come and rise to billow”

…and thanks to everybody who found the time to write some comments, I’ll be back soon)