from Peter John

Archive for the ‘Life and Death’ Category

Love Survives


Photo of George Clark Stone walking across wilderness bridge with fishing pole

George Clark Stone May 25, 1936 – November 4, 2012


Love Survives
By Peter John

Do you search for an answer in the rising Sun?
Do you reach out for comfort from the Moon?
Does your heart long for friendship when the day is done,
When the sky seems dark too soon?

Love survives in the desert.
Love survives in the sea.
Love survives in the memories
Of you and me.
From before we are born
To beyond our lives
Love survives.
Love survives!

When you welcomed your brother who was on the street
Did you offer him shelter from the rain?
At the crossroads where happiness and sorrow meet
The joy overcomes the pain.

Love survives frigid alleys.
Love survives fields of snow,
But it still takes a burning
For a hearth to glow.
When our vengeance has answered
Our hateful drives
Love survives.
Only love could still survive.
Love survives.

It dangles our hearts on a web between
The best and the worst we can feel.
For love sends a scalpel to slice our souls,
And love brings a balsam to heal.

Love survives every promise we fail to keep.
Love endures every fault we pass by.
After anger and envy have wept to sleep
Love alone still survives.

Love attends to the sunshine
But can offer the shade.
Love inhabits the hovels
That our hatred made.
When the night’s creeping darkness
Has left us blind, fear arrives
Love endures it and survives …

When you’ve found all your answers in the sunset’s glow,
When you’ve danced with the moonbeams on the sea,
When I’m never returning, only then you’ll know
The depth of your love for me.

Love survives — I remember
Tender nights, you and I —
Love survives when we wish
That it could simply die.
From before we are born
To beyond our lives
Fate contrives,
Anger weakens,
Hate deprives.
Love survives.

—-
(c) 1991 Peter John Stone. All Rights Reserved.
COntact the author for permissions.
—–

Read Why it's important to say "I love you"on the Mind Candy Blog

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Happy Endings


Image of "The Searcher" by Heather Horton

Image: "The Searcher" by Heather Horton. Used by Permission. "I am taken with dreaming of other places, other realities, while at the same time remaining grounded" -- Heather Horton http://www.heatherhortonartwork.blogspot.com/

Happy Endings
by Peter John

I believe in happy endings.
I believe in rainbows, too.
Although today
Is sad and gray
Tomorrow will still shine through.
I believe that a beacon of love as old as time
Can glow like new.
I believe in happy endings.
I believe in dreams come true.

I believe in new horizons.
I believe they’re everywhere.
The future’s gift
Is when we lift
The burdens our brother’s bear.
I believe that we’re each a desire expressed
In someone else’s prayer.
I believe in new horizons.
I believe that people care.

I believe that God is with us.
I believe His grandest schemes
Compose a plan
That teaches man
The simplest eternal themes.
I believe that His blessings distill
Till happy endings flow in streams.
I believe that God is with us
In our rainbows and our dreams.

—————

©1988 Peter John Stone. All rights reserved. Any free distribution of this poem is authorized provided it 1) includes author credit and copyright notice, (2) the author is notified of its use (3) http://mirrorsinaprism.com is referenced. Contact the author for permissions in ANY use that involves any commercial application.

Premonition


Premonition
by Peter John

The first time that my brother came to visit
My uniform had almost left me mad,
Till on a foreign shore
He found my barracks door,
And I forgot why things had seemed so bad.

A voice I know, a face that looks familiar —
A face that carries features of my own —
He offers me his heart
When mine is torn apart.
He opens up a harbor far from home.

A questing heart, a mind that masters meaning —
A body strong, a soul that earns no shame —
Though I came first in birth
He helps me feel my worth,
And makes me proud to share his family name.

Another time my brother came to visit
When I was free but still had dues to pay.
He stepped into my cell,
Dispelled my private hell
And heaven didn’t seem too far away.

It bothers me to think how much I hurt him
When we were children learning how to grow.
But when I try to say,
He laughs it all away,
And I’m the one afraid to let it go.

So when the Stars and Stripes have brought him homeward,
And set him free to wander once again,
He’s sure to come to me.
I know I’ll never be
As good a man as he’s already been.

The next time that my brother comes to visit
I’ll open up that special jug of wine.
But he can’t help me drink.
So, when he’s gone, I think
I’ll drink it by myself, and I’ll feel fine.

(c) 1990, by Peter John Stone, All Rights Reserved. No use is authorized without permission from author, but the author offers reasonable terms, and entertains any proposals.

A Song Coming On


A Song Coming On
by Peter John

I feel a song coming on.
When the night air is silent
A symphony tugs on my ear.
I feel a beckoning song
And I wish I could share it,
So all who would listen could hear.
I ran from the rhythm of rocks by the sea
For stillness in solitude under a tree,
But whispering moon dust keeps chanting at me.
I feel a song coming on.

I feel the dawn coming on.
In a scepter of brightness
Assaulting the night’s stubborn shell.
I feel the beckoning dawn,
With a voyage commencing,
And strangers all wishing me well.
Now plunging through spindrift that begs me to stay
I struggle for breath, kicking blankets away
Toward menacing hands that await me today.
I feel the dawn coming on.

I feel the pain coming on.
From the piercing extrusions
That gouge at the death in my skin.
I feel the beckoning pain,
Tugging arms groping outward
From eyeballs compelled to gaze in.
A cold iron virgin is waiting to feed,
And wrapping my world for the howling I bleed
When razor fine feathers advance and recede.
I feel the pain coming on.

I feel a friend coming on.
The beginning of healing,
Auroras that melt where I’m bruised.
I feel a beckoning friend,
While caution responds.
I’m a puppy who’s always abused.
But loyalty answers if honesty’s there,
And each of us offers our efforts to share
The burdens to pressing for one back to bear.
I feel a friend coming on.

I feel a love coming on.
In a garden of daisies
An orchid unfolds into bloom.
I feel a beckoning love,
Though I pause to embrace it,
Determined to give it some room.
The space in a heart that a love needs to grow
Is worth all the blossoms that finally show
When roots sink so deep they will never let go.
I feel a love coming on.

I feel a dream coming on.
Though my eyes are wide open,
My senses soar out into space.
I feel a beckoning dream,
And a rainbow keeps scattering
Kisses all over my face —
And jasmine is dancing through tickling haze,
To echo in highlands where unicorns graze —
A fragrance I fancied I’d find from a phrase.
I feel a dream coming on.

I feel the night coming on,
The comfort it offers while
Gently it’s settling in.
I feel the beckoning night.
It’s a shroud of deception,
So firm, so incredibly thin!
With nothing to fear but my skin in a gown,
When flickering flames force a choice from my frown –
To snuff out the candle, or let it burn down.
I feel the night coming on.

And I feel a song coming on …


(c)1983, 1992 by Peter John Stone. All rights reserved. No use is authorized without permission from author, but the author offers reasonable terms, and entertains any proposals.

The Wind is A-Risin’


THE WIND-IS-A-RISIN’
by Peter John

I feel those drops begin to fall.
I watch them splatter on the wall.
Is there a way that I can call my home?
Can’t buy a car, can’t hitch a plane,
And waiting for a drenching rain,
I wonder if it’s worth the pain to roam.
Is it worth the pain to roam
Too far to call back home?

And the wind is a-risin’
And the clouds are a fallin’
And the sky is hangin’ low,
And if you ask me where I’m goin’,
I’ll say, “I don’t know.”
And if you ask me where I’m from,
I’ll say, “The place I’ve been.”
I’d like to move, but I don’t dare
Until that voice can tell me where,
Until that still, small, voice can tell me when.

I’ve played the games that rule the night.
The winning’s never worth the fight.
The fighting’s never worth the teeth I lose.
I’m living hard, and living fast,
I’m hoping that my life won’t last
If living’s never worth the life I choose.
Will the memories I choose
Be worth enough to lose?

And the wind is a-screamin’
And the clouds are a-crashin’,
And the sky’s about to fall,
And if you ask me what I want,
I’ll say, “I want it all!”
And if you ask me what I’ve lost,
I’ll say, “I’ve lost my place.”
I’d move ahead, except I fear
No still, small, voice will reach my ear.
I need a voice to coach me in this race.

The storm of life has worn me out.
It’s torn my mind and made me doubt
My purpose here, and in a life beyond.
The waves of time soon pass away.
Though some might capsize ships today,
They’re only troubled ripples on a pond.
Will the ripples on my pond
Lead to a life beyond?

And the wind-is-a howlin’
And the clouds are a-drainin’
And the sky is almost down,
And if you ask me what life is,
I’ll say, “A beggar’s town.”
And if you ask me what death brings,
I’ll say, “You let me know.”
‘Cause when I get there, I’m afraid
That facin’ each mistake I made,
A still, small, voice will say, “I told you so.”
I’d like to move, but I don’t dare,
Until that voice can tell me where.
Without a still, small, voice I just won’t go.
—-
Peter%20John
Hear Peter John perform “The Wind is A-Risin'”for a live audience
—-
Lyrics copyright 1979,1988 by Peter John Stone. All rights reserved. No use is authorized without permission from author, but the author offers reasonable terms, and entertains any proposals.

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