|
Details |
William Peters Poem
my Sun is Orange
my morning Sun is orange
The yellow is stained
with the Blood of my People
for that is what we
are reminded of
each day
when it rises from the East
to greet the world
i see my world
clearly
we once lived with a hope
that the atrocities of Hate
War
and indifference
would go away
but it did not
my hope has been misplaced
somewhere
and i can not remember
where i have set it down
it might have been that day
i lost my arm
or that day
when my Father was jailed
or that day
when my Sister was killed
she was only 3
no, i think i lost my hope
the day
my Mother no longer cried
her eyes have been dry
for many a year now
and somehow
by some grace
she still has enough love in her
to hug me
once in a while
through that pained smile
that still adorns her face
just so she won’t completely break
there is a noise i hear
it is a loud silence
that stays with me
through my callousness
for the gunfire
and the bombs
and the screams
i can not hear them
they have long ago
assaulted and killed
the dreams of my Family
my village
my people
and it is now working on
Humanity
where is the sanity
in this methodology
to be found
every day is “Ground Zero”
where i live
every where i look
i see Ground Zeros
and we have lost count
of those who
are no more
because of what you call War
but you and i
never had a dispute
that i know of
If so, please tell me what i did wrong
to cause you harm
that you should exact such wretchedness
upon me
and others like me
i know not of the Politics
of it all.
i have never met a Politician
are they so different
than we the people ?
if it’s Oil
i give it to you
if it’s right
take it freely
i will not raise nor put my hand
against that
of my Father’s children
there was a time
when all i thought of
was simply
finding Joy in my life
i have since given up that quest
for i see far too much
of that other stuff
which deserves not a name
my Sun is no longer Yellow
but i do pray my Brother
that yours is
my Sun is Orange
This is dedicated to all the Villages, Peoples across our Globe who must endure the Politics and Sickness of War.
© 1 July 2013 : william s. peters, sr.
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
The Instant
As we age our way
On into the sunset
There is much yet to do
We reflect on our own paths
And the people we have met,
The things we have experienced,
The places we have been,
And those we have love,
And those we have lost
Some have crossed over
That bridge that awaits
Our arrival . . .
Some have just chosen
To go a different way . . .
Yet in truth,
All of these reflections
Are what has contributed
To what we see ourselves as . . .
Today
The remaining question
That lies before us,
Has much to do with
These things,
But at the same time . . .
Very little
Legacy perhaps
Will be what we are ultimately
Judged for
Who are you,
What did you contribute
To the good of the whole . . .
Did you see your self
As a soul apart,
Or as a soul a part of ?
The greatest judgment
We will ever face,
Is that of our own
Truth of Self
Lingers at the corners
Of our consciousness . . .
Will you walk down the street
In your ‘Now’
And meet your potential,
Or will you continue
To attempt to avoid
The inevitable ?
Who knows the time
When we will be in a moment
Transported
To that bridge
That must be crossed . . .
Aging our way
Is not always
The way we may go . . .
Some times it comes
In but an instant
© 12 january 2019 : william s. peters, sr.
www.iamjustbill.com
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2019
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
I will not hold back
My dreams have traveled
As far as the heavens exists . . .
And beyond
I have created my own dimensions
That I may dwell
In a certain certifiable solitudionous state
Where I visit
To reclaim my ‘Self’
And recover my divine balance
I have looked into the eyes
Of ‘Reciprocity’
And saw my self
Looking back at me
Examining my
Authenticity
I have spawned
Alternative lives.
Existences
That I have lived to their fruition
In but a
Blink of the eye
I saw you there
My heart has danced
To the undulating rhythms
Of concordant harmonies
Shared betwixt
The Waves of the Oceans,
The Moon
And the Mother of all things . . .
Earth
The pathways and the waters
Of Life
May be uncharted
But have I not been this way . . .
Before ?
I have sang along
With many different types
Of birds
Emulating their charming
Chatter, chirping
And the characterizations
Of their presence
And congruity
I have peered
With my naked primal eye
At the Sun,
The Moon
And the Stars
Embracing my endless possibilities
And all that may be
Can be,
Will be
And is
I saw you there as well
I have thought about things
Until I was high on them;
I have thought about things
Until I believed
There was no way out
Of the abyss
I created
From my own consciousness
I have even though about things,
Until my head began to hurt,
And my spiritual zeal
Wilted
Like the dated and
Unnurtured flowers
In the Gardens of Hope
I live mostly
With my heart on my sleeve,
But from time to time,
There are vagrant weeds,
Fears
And doubts
That visit my doorstep
Hoping to claim my abode
As a home
And share space
Along with my ego
And it’s un-founded esteem
My ‘Soul’ is of all things
And all things are
Of my ‘Soul’
And the truth of ‘it’
And all of its darkness
And grandeur
Can be found
‘Right Here’
In the ‘Singular’
We call ‘Now’
Will not you sing along with me
As we skip through this journey of wonder,
Wandering here and there
With no particular agendas . . .
But love
I see you there . . .
Me . . .
I will not hold back
© 6 january 2018 : william s. peters sr.
www.iamjustbill.com
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2019
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
this poem came to me as a result of my visit to the West Bank, Rumallah while walking down the street observing.
Her Eyes
Her eyes
. . .
They showed no emotion,
Like a calmed wave-less sea.
I watched,
But she did not even blink
Nor did she seem
To notice life
As it passed by her
On the street.
There was a quiet resolve,
But I detected a subtle anguish,
Endured for much too long.
She had acquiesced
To some degree
To the life she was given,
Afforded . . .
Would some semblance of peace
Change her eyes,
The in-expressive peering
At life ?
What if
. . .
The things
We so often
Take for granted,
Changed?
We observe life at times
As if it is a preordained right.
We take for granted
Far too much . . .
Things, such as joy, laughter, peace
And love.
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
the Garden of Even
there once was a Village
that had a Garden
where nothing but Love ever grew
the Fruits were Divine
what was mine was thine
this was what everyone knew
and then came a thought
which some sadly bought
that i was different from you
and to all of dismay
came forth the day
when this paradigm then became true
the children were confused
and some were used
to further the separation of self
and some gathered night
and held on quite tight
for they thought that things were wealth
and as time went on
the old life was gone
where they all lived simply as one
and wouldn’t you know
even their personal glow
was fading and almost done
but much to their mirth
the Mother called Earth
gave an awakening call
it was not for the few
but all that She knew
she called before the fall
now some did transcend
before the end
of this fictional story i tell
but within every myth
there is a sweet gift
that each may come and dispel
so please come on back home
to the garden you’re from
where all is balanced and square
the Garden of Even
where there is no needin’
for love indwells everywhere
(c) 2010 : Williams S. Peters, Sr.
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
The Life of Death
When the leaf
Began it's new journey
Cascading through the air
As it fell from the limb
Of the tree,
It was not death
Within its embrace,
Nor its destination,
But that of a new life adventure,
For it would go on
To become the nurturer
Of the soil
That feeds many roots,
Many trees,
Many limbs,
Many leaves
Who will
At some time
Also embark
On a greater mission
Of expression
As that of this leaf
The Life of Death
Bless up
I know not whether a tree sheds a tear or laments that of the loss of a leaf or a limb but I do.
(c) 14 December 2018 : william s. peters, sr.
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
The Letter
I sent a letter to
Lady Karma
And that Blind
Lady Justice . . .
Hopefully they
Will wake the "F" up
And do their appointed jobs.
I wrote this letter
With my sharpened quill
Of consciousness,
Compassion,
Empathy,
And need
The ink was a special mixture
Of tears,
And of blood
I expressed the pain
We as a humanity
Are collectively suffering
By the hands of the few
Who think selfishly
Only about and in their
Grand delusions
And from the cortex
Of their
“God Complex”
This letter
Was the hardest write
I have ever done,
For I had fears,
Pain,
Exasperations
And frustrations
Because
I doubt
If anyone would
Read it
But . . .
Just the same
In the name
Of all that is Holy
I penned these words
With an absurd belief
That it would make
A difference
The Letter
© 10 december 2018 : william s. peters, sr.
www.iamjustbill.com
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
Conspiracy
We hear, we listen
To a history
Formulated in conspiracy
To lift up that which is low
That it may be edified
As we eulogize
The truth
Our youth
Stand not a chance
For all that is left
Is to enhance
The lies told
Boldly
In the history classes
Of the mass asses
The heresy
Of the conspiracy
May get white-washed
In the history classes
And the staged propagandist
Agendas,
But truth
Can never be refuted
Though often disputed
Who will tell the stories
Of the ‘morrow . . .
Will it be you,
I,
Or some other guy
Whose eyes are blurred
And fail
Due to their own reason
The whole of the world
Is filled with
Errant information
Which is the formation
Of the downfall
As we fall down
From the crests of the mountains
Of our divinity
As we show far too much disdain
Towards our humanity
Insanity it is for sure
As we live in these darkened rooms
That do have a door
To the outside,
But we choose to hide
In the shadows
Cowering
While embracing the showering
Of deceits
Shall I repeat that for ya ?
Insanity it is for sure
As we live in these darkened rooms
That do have a door
To the outside,
But we choose to hide
In the shadows
Cowering
While embracing the showering
Of deceits
When will we awaken,
And stop forsaking
The essence of the present
We term life ?
© 11 january 2019 : william s. peters, sr.
www.iamjustbill.com
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2019
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
Past Times
Old men dreams
Embraced in the fading
Luminescence
Of the waning moon
Some buried
In the soils
Of the forgotten
Upon the shores
Of lands once visited
Flashing memories
Of the vigor and valor
Giving cause
For false bravado
The twinkle in their eyes
Long since dulled,
No longer erect
Is their verve,
But their
Semi virile
And absent minded ego
Could never admit
Such a thing
Can not move fast
These days,
Nor do we think
As sharply
As we once prided ourselves,
But i am wise ...
I think
Life has a way of humbling one
In ways never before considered
Times past
This could never be
An admission
Because every reflection
In every type of mirror
Pictured me
As Superman ...
Or Jesus Christ
Never considered the weight
Of blasphemy
In my younger days
Because then
I could outrun Karma,
But now that my pace
Has slowed,
She comes bearing gifts ...
Some heavy weights,
But most sweet fruits,
So I must have accidentally,
Or unconsciously
Done a few things right
I am still an explorer,
Discovering new pains,
Aches,
And a lack of mobility,
But that is ok,
For I still have my dreams
Of a past
I think
Used to be
(c) 16 december 2018 : william s. peters, sr.
www.iamjustbill.com
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
William Peters Poem
ever for
my soul joyfully weeps in anticipation . . .
of your coming
…home.
i know with all due certainty
that you bear for me a bountiful heart,
filled with the gifts of “Heart”,
with no limitations.
Through many restless nights
i rode the dream streams
of colorful light beams
looking over the horizons
of my aspirations . . .
lookin for you
All my senses enlivened
with the urge but to be of you . . .
through you . . .
in you . . .
once again . . .
for you complete
the “me” of “me”.
Over the eons
i have watched
the waxing and waning
of my passions and desires,
knowing that only your heart
could align my path with my truth.
Need i say that
the warm velvet of your ethereal touch
grounds me in the soil
of the garden of “Birth and Death”
exposing my silly illusions . . .
that i am finite.
Yes Love,
in my delusional haste to live
and the creations of my own hauntings,
i knew you were always there . . .
heart in hand
flowing with the essence of all life
. . . love.
For with Love,
Death willingly is trumped
and thus submits it’s veil of deceit
to what “IS” . . . Life!
So. my dear
bring me the breath of “BE”ing that sustains us . . .
bring me the Joy Divine
bring me my Life’s Light . . .
Light my Lantern once again
bring me our life
that permeates all “BE”ing . . .
that i may awaken
and be transformed in the . . .
ever for.
© 5 February 2010 : william s. peters, sr.
Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018
|
|