The saddest man I've ever found Is probably the circus clown Who wanders round from town to town Seeking praise and world renown. Acting playful happiness Giving crowds an hour of bliss Pretending nothing is amiss Blowing kids a goofy​ kiss. But when the crowds have ceased to shout His inward-self starts coming out He wonders what he's all about Giving space to long held doubt. Once alone there's naught remains No joyful kids or family pain No loving wife who helps sustain Just fellow travelers on the train. Gypsy wandering drags him down Another night, another town A stable… Read the rest
Category Archives: Peter’s Writings
Things Peter writes for his own benefit, not necessarily intended for or made available to the general public.
Forgeting
I forget my keys and people's names, Just every kind of thing. Schedules, dates and meeting times, To the forefront I can't bring. Why is it then that there are things That would be best forgot, That never will be deep repressed, Ere I will or not?
Unimportant
Second fiddle, second rate Left to swallow bitter fate Wanting more, wanting praise To have at least some glory days Even friends seem not to see The deeper longing inside me And sorrow when I'm pushed aside My disappointment I just hide. Half a sentence uttered when They interrupt me, cutting in Didn't notice I was there And moved along without a care Thoughts of mine are questioned quick As if my logic wouldn't stick Wrong by default, why ask me Never mind, just ignore me.
Drip
Drip, drip, drip, drop, To the bottom from the top, Through the night I hear plip plop, While in bed I flip and flop, Should jiggle handle on the pot, To cut the noise and make it stop, But I never leave my spot.
Special
The adults all say that I'm unique, A different, special child of God, But I'm not a dumb or clueless kid, It's all because I'm downright odd.
Allergies
Whoever thought a body part, Could run and win a race, Especially without arms or legs, And stuck onto my face. Its endurance is remarkable, And speed is quite profound, Running non-stop day and night, With jumping, leaps and bounds. You'd think it would've proved it's point, And stopped to rest by now, But my runny nose just won't stop, To rest or take a bow.
I don’t believe in fairy tales
A yellow bird with three-foot legs, Gypsies stealing rotten brats, A bunny poopin' chocolate eggs, Vampires who fly like bats, The monster underneath my bed, A fairy thief who stole my tooth, Krampus behind Santa's sled, The troll under the attic roof, I'm sure these are a made up lot, To frighten kids and keep them straight, But I don't buy it -- not a jot, I'm much too smart to take the bait. But Santa on the other hand, Who never once has brought me grief, And brings me presents very grand, Is surely worthy of belief.
Gray Area
When you're young you know it all, The world seems black and white. Complex issues broken down, Devolve to wrong or right. But vision blurs with heightened age The crispness fades away, Hardened edges smear and smudge, Sharp contrast blends to gray. Living lessons teach restraint, In judging others deeds, Right and wrong still hold their ground, But leave space in-between.
To be a bird
Would you like to be a bird, And fly up in the sky, Dart around the puffy clouds, And soar up oh so high? Eating worms and slimy things, Pecking bark for grubs, Munching fleas and bottle flies, And other kinds of bugs? Would you like to be a bird, The sovereign of the sky? If you do, so please yourself, But as for me... Not I!
Sour Sucker
A pickle puss and sour sucker, Sam was such a boy, That nothing ever pleased him, Nor gave him any joy. When given treats and candy, He would fret about his teeth, When taken to a movie, He complained about his seat. The swimming pool was much too cool, The hot tub much too warm, The sofa cushions way to soft, Rain showers were all storms. Then one day a passing man, Questioned very loud, If there could be anything, Of which Sam would be proud. Hearing this Sam wondered, Just what it was he liked, And smiling he concluded… Read the rest