Pete's Poetry

Hats

Posted by in A little Burst o Truth, Children's, Poems

I am the boy who wears hats.
Like Bartholamew Kubbins,
I wear them for protection.
I wear them for warmth.
I wear them for flair,
Or to keep my hair—from flying.
Some I never wear,
Only hang them up
Like dreams upon the wall…

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…To find her gone
Blank like the memory
Of my fiction

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satisfaction

Posted by in A little Burst o Truth, Death and Chocolate, Poems

Will we ever find satisfaction
with our situation,
with ourselves, with others?
Send me a scrap, a slice, a morsel,
a moment of peace, a piece of pleasure,
a hint of happiness,
even fleeting fragments of fulfillment,
send me a smattering of satisfaction.
The Stones’ sad assertion…
shouting submission to darkness
be damned! I can.
I can.

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